A Beautiful Heartbreak ( NYC Series #1) Read online

  A

  BEAUTIFUL

  HEARTBREAK

  a NYC series

  Book 1

  By

  ALORA KATE

  “I hear voices in my head and I love that it’s totally okay.”

  ~ Alora Kate

  Copyright © 2017 by Alora Kate

  All rights reserved.

  Editor: Silvia Curry

  Cover by: Alora Kate

  This is a work of fiction.

  Characters, Names, Places, and Incidents

  are products of MY Crazy Imagination.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in

  any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording,

  or other electronic or mechanical methods,

  without the prior written permission of the publisher,

  except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews

  and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Copyright © 2017 by Alora Kate

  THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

  To the ladies in my life,

  your love and support mean the world to me.

  These are just a few …

  Silvia Curry, Ella Winters,

  Kim Sutton, Sylvia Volkmer Schneider,

  Shani Kenny, Jen Taylor, Michelle Volk,

  Tiffany Uran, Emma Osborne,

  Sarah Darlington and Stephanie Bingham

  Thank you to these amazing BLOGGERS…

  Blogging For The Love of Authors and Their Books

  Elusively Ella's Bookishness

  The Chronicles of an Abibliophobiac

  Belles, Books & Scandals

  One Click Chicks.

  There are so many more.

  I wish I could list them all.

  And most of all, THANK YOU READERS!

  I love hearing from you and reading your reviews!

  Happy Reading!

  Dedicated to Silvia Curry

  For your words.

  Meaningful.

  Thoughtful.

  Endless words.

  This book contains graphic language.

  Recommended for 18+

  A

  BEAUTIFUL

  HEARTBREAK

  a NYC series

  Book 1

  By

  ALORA KATE

  Chapter 1 - Ki

  “Shit,” I muttered, dropping my camera to the side and heading toward the crosswalk. A rather large moving truck parked in the middle of the street and had blocked my view. I had to get a picture of the customer with the yellow envelope in their hands to complete the job. My super-hot best friend Alexa confirms their names, serves them, and I take their picture as proof.

  It helped that Alexa was five nine, had blond hair down to her ass, and perfect heart-shaped lips. The men just couldn’t help themselves. It helped tremendously when we did investigative work. She got to flirt and drink, while I stayed hidden in the shadows, taking pictures and making sure we had the proof needed for our clients.

  I rushed across the street, saw the envelope in the man’s hands, and started snapping pictures of him holding it the best I could. I wasn’t even looking into the lens but felt the autofocus vibrate against my finger, and I knew that would have to be good enough. I was a professional photographer, and I felt confident I’d have at least one picture that would satisfy the person who hired us. It was all I could do. The man didn’t seem to care he was being served as a witness for a grand jury because he only had eyes for Alexa.

  Alexa.

  Alexa.

  Alexa.

  The men loved Alexa; me, not so much.

  I had braces. My hair was much shorter, and I referred to it as dirty. Not because I didn’t wash it but because it had too many colors. Dull colors with no shine or life to them. Green eyes that weren’t striking or intriguing, and sparse lashes that needed at least three coats of mascara to look halfway decent. Alexa was always trying to give me a makeover, constantly complaining that I didn’t show off my womanly curves like I should. She was the beauty; I was the brains of our operation. My strengths came in my organizational and budgeting skills, as I was the more frugal one when it came to saving money. We were complete opposites, always have been, and it was what brought us together. Like a couple, opposites attract.

  I got to the other side of the street when Alexa turned to walk my way, and the man’s eyes watched every single step she took with her knee-high black boots. I smirked at her, she shrugged a shoulder at me, and we started walking down the adjacent street.

  “That was too easy,” she commented while I looked through my pictures.

  “It’s always easy for you.”

  She linked our arms and pulled me to the right. I followed, knowing she was preventing me from running into anyone while I looked at the photos, something she often did.

  “One of these days,” she said, while I tried not to trip over my own two feet, “I’d like a challenge.”

  “Uh-huh,” I mumbled while I found the perfect picture. “Got one.”

  “You always do,” she said smiling, weaving us in and out of the crowd.

  “I like what I do.”

  “Who knew that we’d be here, running our own business together in the lovely city of New York.”

  “And flirting our way through life,” I added, teasing her but in a good way. She knew I was joking, kind of.

  “I literally get paid to flirt with guys. It’s the best job I could have ever asked for.”

  “We make our hours.”

  “We boss each other around,” she said as we turned the corner, heading to the courthouse to drop off the picture I just took.

  “We have to, or this would never work between the two of us.”

  She stopped and pulled her phone out. It must have been on vibrate because I never heard it ring, but it was noisy like it always was. Horns were honking, the sounds of motorcycles and scooters zipping in between traffic. Drivers were yelling out their windows as the lights turned green. Street vendors selling imitation purses and watches shouted over the hotdog and newspaper vendors, fighting for each customer. Thousands of people talking on their cell phones at the same time. This was the voice of our city, and it had a life of its own.

  “I need to take this call,” she said, shaking her phone in her hand. “Get your ass up there and turn that photo in.”

  I smiled, she answered her phone, and I rushed inside the courthouse. I weaved in and out of people, listening to the random conversations as I passed the many people coming and going. Everyone was busy. Rushed. Running around like crazy. Dressed in suits and fancy clothes. It was annoying. I hated being in here, but it was part of the job.

  Josh’s door was open, a clerk for one of the judges, and he looked up at me when I walked in.

  “That was fast.”

  “That’s why we make the big bucks,” I said sarcastically, knowing that all process servers get paid the same amount of money.

  “Why do you keep using that?” He was referring to my Nikon camera.

  “Do I have to explain myself again,” I replied, pulling out the memory card. I handed it to him so he could pull the picture off it.

  “Fine. I’ll stop asking.” He slid the card into his laptop and then ran a hand through his blond hair.

  I smiled. “It’s about time.”

  He grabbed a yellow envelope next. “Time sensitive.”

  “They always are.”

  He raised an eyebrow when I didn’t take the envelope. “You don’t want it?”

  I reached out to grab the envelope, and his fingers tightened on the edge he held.r />
  I smirked at him. “You know we don’t turn down work, Josh. In a city this competitive, we take every job that comes our way.” I pulled on the envelope, which he released before he pulled the USB card out and handed it back to me. I was hoping to get out of his office before things got awkward.

  “Wanna get a coffee? There’s this great café down the street that just opened. I’m sure Alexa wouldn’t mind if you took a break. You still have the afternoon to serve this one.”

  I sighed. So much for getting out of here before it got awkward. Josh asked me out every time I stepped foot into his office. At first, I thought it was cute; I was flattered. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to date him when he first started asking. We were new to the city, our business was just getting off the ground, and I could barely take care of myself, let alone promise time to someone else. Now, it’s awkward. I consider Josh a friend, but we don’t hang out or do things together. It’s strictly business. Plus, I just didn’t feel any kind of romantic connection toward him. He was cute, don’t get me wrong. I’m not even sure if I have a type. But, I know that Josh isn’t it. He’s skinny, like amazingly skinny but not in a bad way. His light blond hair suits him. I only ever see him in button-down shirts and slacks, so I don’t even know if he has a style outside of the office.

  My silence was enough of an answer for him as he released the envelope. His cheeks had shown a hint of pink before he averted his eyes back to his laptop. “Right. Thanks for the pictures.”

  I slid the envelope into the bag hanging off my shoulder before turning around and making my way out of his office. “See ya later, Josh.”

  Once I returned outside, Alexa was just ending her phone call.

  “We got another one,” I told her.

  She grimaced, and I immediately knew something was wrong. “Mind doing this one on your own?”

  “I can’t do it on my own.”

  “I told you if you got some highlights, it’d help you feel better about your hair.”

  I smiled, reminding her of my braces.

  “You get them off in like two weeks,” she reminded me.

  “Doesn’t help me today.”

  “You don’t have to flirt with them.”

  “But this is how we work. You flirt, I take the picture.”

  She hesitated, looked down at the street and then to her shoes. “It’s my mom.”

  I sighed. Of course it was. That woman always knew how to worm her way back into Alexa’s life. “Not again, Alexa.”

  “She’s in rehab.”

  “For like the hundredth time.”

  “I actually think it’s the fourth time.”

  I stomped my foot. “You’re blowing me off for her.”

  “Jesus, Ki, I’m not blowing you off for her. This meeting is really important to her recovery. She’s never made it this far. I’ve already postponed three times. I think this could be good for her. For us.”

  “She’s screwed you over many times.”

  She sniffed and looked away. “Don’t remind me.”

  “I can’t get you to change your mind?”

  She shook her head no.

  “Fine.”

  She reached out for my hand. “Thank you. You can do this. Google the name, see if there’s a picture of them online, that way you’re prepared if they lie. Turn the camera on, put it on auto, and it’ll be ready for you to snap their picture.”

  I groaned. I really didn’t want to do this. I was not a people person.

  “Is it due today?”

  “By seven.”

  “What’s it for?”

  “Nope,” I said smiling. “You don’t get to know anything. Go see your mom.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, pulling out her phone again. I grabbed the envelope and read the information. All envelopes had the same information on the outside of them: name, work address, and home address. If there was a red dot on it, it meant it was for a Grand Jury testimony. The rest we Googled. He was a lawyer, and he totally looked the part. Strong jaw. Icy blue eyes that held no sign of friendliness. Short styled hair, kept neat.

  I called a friend of mine who’s a court reporter to see if he was in court since I was already here, but he wasn’t. I Googled the address and started walking. He was on the seventh floor of one of the large skyscrapers on this side of town, and it only took twenty minutes to walk to his office.

  “I’m looking for Mr. Bale,” I said stepping off the elevator. I made sure I was calm, cool, and collected. I could totally serve someone on my own. I was an independent woman. I owned my own business. Who cares if I had plain dirty hair and braces.

  “Thank God you’re here.” She ripped the headset off, rushed around her mahogany desk, and grabbed my hand. “He’s pissed you’re late.”

  My heart stopped. Who tipped him off? Of course, my first solo serve, and it's already going horribly wrong. “How did he know I was coming?”

  “Don’t get cute with me, or him. He won’t allow it.” She kept pulling me down the hallway; I glanced around trying to take in my surroundings, but she kept talking. “He won’t care today, but you better not wear those clothes tomorrow. The entire office has a strict dress code. I’ll send you another copy of the handbook to your email.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “If I were you, I’d bring something to eat at your desk tomorrow because he’s extremely lost but refuses to acknowledge it. His calendar’s a mess; he was late to a deposition today, and we’re all walking around on eggshells.”

  We turned the corner, and I apologized when we ran into someone who dropped their papers.

  “Don’t apologize. Steve’s a first-year associate and a total klutz.” She stopped abruptly at the end of the hallway, in front of a glass door. “That’s your desk.” She pointed to the side, and sure enough, there was a desk facing the office. “It’s just the two of you back here. He prefers to look up and not stare at your back, so the desk has always faced his office.”

  “I think there’s been some confusion.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it.”

  “Hang of what?”

  She literally pushed me through the glass door and yelled, “Mr. Bale, your new assistant has arrived.” Then, she took off running.

  New assistant?

  I’m not the new assistant.

  The man, Mr. Bale, was writing something in a notepad and didn’t bother to look up when he spoke, “We have a joint calendar. Fix it. Then find Smith and Associates’ number, and get them in here as soon as possible. I need a—”

  “I’m sorry, there was—”

  “I don’t like it when people interrupt me, especially when they’re meek about it.”

  Meek?

  He kept writing, and I was at a loss for words. I came to serve him, not work for him. His broad shoulders moved with each stroke of his pen, and I stood there watching him like an idiot.

  “The phone’s ringing.”

  I jumped at his words. “What?”

  He tossed his pencil down and finally looked up at me. His icy blue eyes squinted at me behind a stylish pair of black rimmed glasses. He looked me over and shook his head. “I hope they told you about the dress code.”

  “Sir, please—”

  “It’s Mr. Bale.” His words were heavy with authority. “The phone’s ringing.”

  I turned around and saw that the wall with his door was also made of glass. You could see the desk with a black phone sitting on the side of it and part of the hallway. I turned back to him and watched as he scrubbed his fingers against a hint of a five o’clock shadow in frustration. “I’m sure I don’t have to explain how to answer the damn phone.”

  I glanced back at the ringing phone and cringed, then gave him my full attention. I needed to hightail it out of here. His eyes narrowed and he stood, crinkling a paper in his fist. His crisp, white dress shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, exposing parts of a tattoo on each arm.

  “Don’t stare.”

  “I’
m not staring.”

  “Don’t argue with me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “The phone’s still ringing.”

  “I’m not here—”

  “Answer it!” his voice boomed across the room, and I ran to the desk, grabbed the earpiece sitting on it, and slipped it on. The phone was pretty complex, but I saw a red light flashing next to ‘line six,’ and I pushed it. The handle lifted just enough and the line connected in my ear.

  “Um, hello?”

  “Who’s this?”

  “Ki,” I said, looking up at Mr. Bale who was walking my way. My hands scattered around the desk until I found a pen and I opened the top drawer and found a yellow notepad. “Are you calling for Mr. Bale?”

  I had heard a heavy sigh before the woman spoke. “Oh, for Christ sake! Of course, I’m calling for Mr. Bale. Why in the world would I call his office if I wanted to speak with someone else?” she paused for a minute before she asked with irritation in her voice, “Well, is he there?”

  “Yes, can I ask who’s calling?”

  “His wife.”

  “His wife,” I repeated when he got to the door.

  Mr. Bale shook his head no and then shut his door.

  “Um, he just picked up his phone. I’m sorry?”

  “You’re sorry!” her voice shrieked into my ear. “Tell him he can’t hide from me! That stupid, arrogant asshole.”

  “Is that your message?”

  “How long have you worked for my husband?”

  “I don’t work for him.”

  “Well, obviously, you do, or you wouldn’t be answering his phone. But, you won’t by the end of the week.” The line went dead, and I pushed the handle back down to disconnect.

  “What the hell am I doing?” I took the earpiece off, but the phone rang again. I looked up, and Mr. Bale was once again eyeing me. I felt like he was making me work, like he was making me answer his damn phone. And I did. But why?