Exposed (Dare to Dream Book 3) Read online

  Exposed

  Jennifer Kittredge

  A CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE NOVEL

  Copyright © 2018 by Jennifer Kittredge

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  the country in which the infringement occurred.

  A JENNIFER KITTREDGE Title

  IMPRINT: Contemporary Romance

  EXPOSED

  Copyright © 2018 by Jennifer Kittredge

  Cover Artist: Desiree Koudele

  Editor: Judah Raine

  First Publication: 2018

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2018 by Jennifer Kittredge

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

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  Dedication

  Gram, there aren’t enough words to describe how much you are missed. I wish you were here. I know you would be so proud of me. I miss you every day. This one’s for you. -Your Princess.

  Chapter One

  Melinda

  ‘Melinda Morgan, one of America’s top models, can’t keep a man to save her life.’

  If you Googled me, you’d find a headline reading something like this, and it would be…well, let’s just say it would be fairly accurate. I have no trouble getting a man. In fact, there have been multiple times in my life where I needed a long stick to keep them away from me. While the attention is flattering, I’m at a point in my life where I long for something more than a surface romance. Quite frankly, I’ve had more than enough of those and I’m tired of them. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m unlucky in love. It sounds cliché, I know, but for me, it happens to be true.

  People tend to fall in love with the idea of me, but when they get to know the real me—the one who isn’t made-up or photoshopped, they decide they like the airbrushed version better and eventually leave. Only this time, it’s a little different. I’m the one who will actually leave.

  The tension in my body has me wound tight. Knowing I will tell my soon-to-be-ex-fiancée that I’m leaving him has made my level of anxiety sky-rocket. I fidget nervously with a strand of my hair. Lately, I feel as though I’ve lost who I am and need to gain some serious perspective on my life. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for all that I have. I mean, who wouldn’t be? I live in a beautiful penthouse apartment in New York City that overlooks Central Park. The longevity of my career is staggering compared to other models, and I have wonderful friends whom I’ve essentially grown up with in this industry. I appreciate all of it, even though I feel that it’s suffocating me at the moment.

  I walk to the large floor-length windows and look out at the park. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. It’s something I don’t take lightly as I know it can all be taken away in a moment. That’s why I’ve expanded my career to include not only modeling, but also a clothing line, perfume, and eyewear. I wanted multiple streams of income, so expanding into different avenues has allowed me to achieve that.

  I jump when the front door opens.

  “Hey, Aunt Mel. I didn’t think you’d be home today.”

  “Hey, Em.” I smile at the sight of her. “I took a mental health day,” I respond with a low chuckle as my twenty-one-year old niece looks quizzically at me.

  “When have you ever taken a mental health day?”

  “Never,” I admit and shrug my shoulders, “but there’s a first time for everything.”

  “Is everything okay?” she asks hesitantly.

  I sigh and fold my arms over my chest.

  “Truth?”

  “Truth.”

  “Not really. I feel a little caged in. And I’m breaking up with Nathanial.”

  “What?” Her eyes bug out of her head. “What do you mean, you’re breaking up with Nathanial? I thought he was the one.”

  “I did too.” I sigh as I turn to look out the window again, my arms still folded.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I hate to admit it, even to myself, but Nathanial hasn’t been exclusive,” I say and try to hide the hurt in my voice.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says as she stands beside me and leans her head on my shoulder.

  Emily is my brother Ryan’s daughter. She came to live with me when she graduated high school. Her mother passed away when she was six months old, which changed the trajectory of all our lives. I was fifteen when the accident happened. Ryan was devastated and Mom and I swooped in to help him the best we could. I would run home every day after school to be with her so he could go to work at the restaurant he now owns. Life fell into its own comfortable groove and Emily became the most important thing in my world.

  When it was time for me to leave and pursue my dream to become a model, I almost let it all go to stay home with her. Ryan and my mom wouldn’t hear of it. They would not let me put my life on hold in order to stay in my hometown with Em. Leaving was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Before Emily, I couldn’t wait to get out of my hometown, but after she came, it was like ripping me from my own child when I had to leave her. I was thrilled when she asked to stay with me when she was accepted to NYU. I think the only reason Ryan let her attend was because I was here.

  “I’m so sorry, Aunt Mel. You deserve better.”

  “Thank you, my girl.”

  I plaster a smile across my face because I don’t want to let on how I really feel. I’m crumbling inside but put on a brave face for her because I know she’ll worry.

  “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “I’m meeting Matt and Britt at the coffee shop to study. I stopped by to grab a few things,” she says as she walks off toward her bedroom.

  I love that kid. She is beautiful, smart, crazily funny, and has a good head on her shoulders. I have loved having her here these past few years. It will be a big adjustment when she leaves at the end of the school year. She already knows she wants to study abroad for a year. I, of course, will use that as an excuse to travel to wherever she is to see her. My big brother isn’t thrilled with the idea, but I think it will be the experience of a lifetime for her.

  She returns to the living
room with an arm full of books.

  “Where’s your backpack?”

  “I left it downstairs with Pete. I’ll slide everything in it once I get back down there.”

  “You take advantage of Pete.” I laugh as I walk her to the door.

  “I know. But he loves me.” A wide grin spreads across her face. “I’ll see you later,” she says before she kisses me on the cheek and heads out the door.

  I shake my head and smile. She does have Pete wrapped around her little finger. He’s been our doorman for years and is in his late-sixties, but you’d never know it. He took a shine to Emily from the beginning and said she reminded him of his granddaughter. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her, including watch her backpack so she doesn’t have to lug it upstairs.

  My phone rings and jolts me out of my thoughts. I move reluctantly to find it, knowing it could be something important for work. The name of my manager flashes across the screen.

  “Hey, Melissa,” I say as cheerfully as I can.

  “Melinda. Hi. How are you?”

  “I’m as good as can be expected.”

  “Yes. I was calling about that. It seems TMZ has obtained some pictures of Nathanial with a woman in Cabo. They are pretty graphic, Mel, I won’t lie to you. They’re all over each other.”

  “Of course, they are,” I say sarcastically and try not to sound hurt. I pace in front of my windows again.

  “You know the press will be outside your door the minute they get wind of this? They’ll hound you for some sort of statement.”

  “Isn’t that what I pay you for?” I snap before I bite my lip and pause before speaking again, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s not your fault.”

  “We’ve worked together long enough for me to know you didn’t mean it. I’ll take care of it and put out a generic statement for now.”

  “Thanks,” I say flatly.

  “For what it’s worth, Melinda, he’s not worth it. He was never good enough for you. You deserve better.”

  “Bye, Melissa. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up as I don’t want to stay on the line any longer than I have to.

  “You deserve better,” I murmur out loud to myself. “Yeah, well, how come I can’t ever seem to find better?” Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. He doesn’t deserve them. After two and a half years together, this is how we end—with him as a cheating bastard. I twist a strand of my hair in frustration. Something in my mind tells me this isn’t the first time. It’s merely the first time I’ve heard about it.

  I don’t know why I fall for the same type of guy over and over again. I come from an amazing family and have two parents who adore each other and have been married for forty-five years. I have the role models to show me what a real relationship looks like, yet I always find men who apparently commit but are never truly committed. I think I need to swear off men until I figure out what’s wrong with me and fix it. I grab my laptop and Google TMZ.

  “That son of a bitch,” I say through clenched teeth.

  Dozens of pictures of him with a young, leggy blonde are on the first page of the website. Nathanial kissing her, grabbing her ass, her lips on his neck, her straddling him on a lounger, to name only a few.

  I’m physically sick to my stomach just looking at them. Heat rushes through my body as hurt, humiliation, and anger rise up within me. I snatch my phone and hit his number in my speed dial before I take time to think. While the phone rings, I let out a long slow breath and jump when I hear his voice on the other end of the line, surprised he even bothered to answer.

  “Hello, sweetheart. I miss you. When are you coming out to see me?” Right now, I hate the sound of his voice. Slimy and insincere are the words that come to mind.

  “How about never?” I snap at him.

  “Whoa, what’s going on Mel?” He sounds surprised now.

  “I called to ask you the same thing. Would you like to tell me who the blonde is?” I ask venomously.

  The silence on the other end of the line speaks volumes.

  “We’re over, Nathanial. Do you hear me? O-V-E-R!” I scream into the phone I end the call.

  The reality of my life hits me like a ton of bricks. I allow myself to collapse to the floor, curl into a little ball, and finally let the tears fall.

  Mason

  It’s midnight. I’m tired, yet here I sit in the parking lot of one of Tampa Bay’s most notorious strip clubs, waiting for my client’s sleaze ball of a husband to either show up or walk out. Whichever one it is, I’ll be here to catch him in the act.

  According to my client, Mrs. Bannon, her husband has cheated for quite some time. She let herself overlook it because they had been together for some time—ten years, in fact—and she liked the lifestyle he provided her. According to her, she didn’t mind not having to have sex with him herself. She decided that whoever he was cheating with could keep him satisfied and she wouldn’t have to.

  That all changed when he came home drunk the other night and asked her for a divorce. She declined and tried to reason with him and that’s when the shit hit the fan. My client wound up in the hospital with a black eye and broken arm. Now, she was out for blood, although she didn’t press charges at the time. She lied and said she slipped down the back steps of their home, which is complete bullshit, of course.

  The door to the strip joint opens and two women stumble out. So much for no drinking in the place. They were clearly drunk or on something. I pull my baseball cap down to cover my face. Not that they would notice me. They’re totally wasted. Having found their balance, they pause and look over their shoulders as if they’re waiting for someone else to join them.

  My gaze returns to the door as it opens again and my client’s husband, Allen Bannon—aka one of the top officials in the city—steps out. A cigar hangs out his mouth and he motions for the two women to come to him. They both giggle and take fumbling steps toward him.

  My camera is up and the shutter clicks away as I capture the scene that plays out before me. A car pulls up—I assume his driver—and they all pile in. I put my car in drive and pull out of the club a good distance behind them them. They head south down Dale Mabry Hwy and take a right on Cypress and I continue to follow. I have a feeling they’ll head to one of the hotels in the area. I’m proved right when the driver pulls into the Double Tree. I pull in, find a place to park, and get out of my car.

  I’m good at blending in, so I take a bag out of my trunk and follow them into the lobby. Unbeknownst to the trio in line in front of me, I’m recording the entire scenario. Allen apparently made a reservation beforehand, because his room key is ready and waiting for them.

  “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Bannon,” the receptionist says as the three of them head for the elevators.

  “Oh, we will, Heather,” he says over his shoulder as the two women fall into giggles.

  “May I help you, sir?” Heather smiles at me—a wide, inviting grin that most men would fall for in a minute. Except I’m not one of those men, so her charms fail on me.

  I pretend to search my pockets as if I have forgotten something.

  “I apologize. I left my wallet in the car. I’ll be right back,” I say as I head toward the exit. I’ve got what I need so there’s no need to stay here for the antics of the three upstairs. God knows how long it will last. According to Mrs. Bannon, not long. A grin escapes my lips, it’s not nice, but the guy’s a complete scumbag. Any man who hits a woman doesn’t deserve any respect in my book, including Mr. Bannon. He deserves to be in jail. I still don’t understand why so many women won’t press charges against their abuser. It doesn’t make sense to me.

  I’m home fifteen minutes later. Thank God I live in the area and I wasn’t in some town far from home. Oliver immediately barks when he hears my key in the door.

  “Hey, boy,” I say and he jumps up for me to pet him. His paws land on my stomach as I try to maneuver my way inside.

  “Oliver.” I laugh. “You need to let me ge
t inside first.”

  I throw my baseball hat on the couch and plop down beside it. He jumps up as well, makes one turn, and curls into a ball to fall fast asleep.

  “I only wish it were that easy.”

  I haven’t slept well since I was a kid. I’ve tried sleeping pills, alcohol, and even marijuana, but nothing works. While I manage a few hours here and there, it’s never substantial and never enough. My brother Gabe says I’ll simply fall over from exhaustion one day. I don’t doubt it. When I close my eyes, the images I try so hard to forget come rushing back in. Gabe doesn’t remember. He was too little, but I do. They’re something I’ll never forget, even though I would love to erase them from my memory. I get up, pour myself a stiff whisky, and take a gulp. It’s the only thing that will help me get a few hours in. I sit beside Oliver and let the whiskey burn the back of my throat.

  Early the next morning, I wake in the same position on the couch, the empty whiskey glass in my hand. My mouth feels like I’ve swallowed cotton. I don’t even remember how many drinks I had to fall asleep.

  “Dude, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

  “Fuck off,” I grumble.

  “Mason, come on man. You need to go see someone. How long has it been?”

  “I said fuck off.” I groan as I try to stand and stumble.

  “I’m fine,” I say as I catch my balance.

  “You’re not fine. You haven’t slept in days, maybe even months. You can’t keep doing this, man. You’ll hurt yourself.”

  I draw myself up to my full height of six-two and puff my chest out. This is my little brother, after all, so I don’t need him to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. I make eye contact and glare at him. He raises his eyebrow and waits for my response.