Exposed (Dare to Dream Book 3) Page 2

  “I won’t go to see someone, little brother, so stop pushing. I’m fine.”

  “Whatever you say, brother,” he retorts as he huffs a frustrated breath. He grabs his briefcase and heads out the front door. Oliver’s head pops up as the front door slams.

  I rub my face with my hands in an attempt to knock away the cobwebs. It’s no use. I live in a state of perpetual exhaustion. When I moved in with Gabe a few years before, I only intended to stay for a few months. Two years later, I’m still there.

  When Sheila and I divorced, I needed a place to go since she wanted the house and anything else she could get her hands on. I didn’t put up a fight as I didn’t want it. We weren’t married long. A year, maybe two. I can’t remember and it all seems like a blur. I knew from the beginning it wouldn’t work out, but I decided I was getting older so I should at least try to make a go of it. That was really piss-poor thinking on my part. It was a disaster from the beginning.

  Back then, I still practiced law and Sheila loved everything about that. When I told her I would stop practicing to become a P.I., she flipped out. I think her exact words were, “How could you do this to me? What will people think? A private eye? Is that even a real job?”

  So much for unconditional love and support. We split a few weeks later. She didn’t like the direction I was going in and it wasn’t what she had envisioned for her life. Papers were filed, the divorce was quick since we had a prenup and no kids, and I gave her the house and some money. She was happy to settle quickly and move on. And move on she did with another attorney in Tampa Bay. One of my least favorite people in the world, but at least they can make each other miserable.

  I reach for my phone and leave a voice mail for Mrs. Bannon to notify her that I have the photos and video she requested. I’ll get them uploaded and sent to her attorney today. Blackmail isn’t a nice thing, but this prick deserves it after the beating he gave her. She said it was the first time, but I don’t believe her. I think it’s gone on for a while and this time was merely one of the worst. I hope she gets away from him before it’s too late.

  Melinda

  When I finally peel myself off the floor and end my pity party, I head to the shower. I decide to go to my office to occupy myself. I let the warm water run over my body, washing away the filth I feel over Nathanial’s transgressions. Then it occurs to me that I should probably get checked for STD’s.

  “Fuck!” I yell aloud as the thought sickens me. If that son of a bitch gave me something, he’ll be sorry.

  I dress quickly and head downstairs to the lobby of my building.

  “Ms. Morgan.”

  “Hi, Pete. How are you?” I turn toward him and smile warmly.

  “I’m well, thank you for asking. I wanted to warn you there is a swarm of paparazzi out front. They’ve been here for the last hour and have asked if you’re here, so I wanted to give you a heads up.”

  I release a long sigh. “I see. I’ll have my driver come around back. Would you mind accompanying me?”

  “Of course. Let me tell Julian I’ll step away for a moment.”

  “Thank you.”

  Frustrated, I step to the side as I don’t want to give any of the paparazzi a glimpse of me. I can only imagine the mayhem that would ensue if they do. Feeling trapped, I shake my head and look down at the floor and wish it would open and swallow me right now.

  “Right this way, Ms. Morgan.”

  Pete extends his arm for me to go before him. He’s always been such a gentleman, the quiet anchor to the building, and goes above and beyond his duties. I’ve asked him a million times to call me Melinda, but he won’t hear of it.

  I glide past him and down the long corridor to the back of the building. I had texted my driver earlier and hope that he has already made it around back. Pete takes the liberty of opening the door to check before I step outside.

  “All clear,” he says as he steps toward the black Cadillac SUV and opens the back door. I hop in quickly, eager to get out of here before anyone notices.

  “Thank you, Pete.”

  “It’s my pleasure. I’ll keep an eye out for Ms. Emily to ensure they stay away from her.”

  My eyes widen. I had forgotten about Emily. Those vultures will do anything for a story, including harassing my twenty-one-year old niece.

  “I’ll have her text you when she gets close to home. She can meet you around back so you can let her in, okay?”

  “Of course.” He tips his hat, shuts my door, and steps backward toward the building.

  “Hey, Mel.”

  “Hey, Harry.”

  “You okay?”

  “Truth?” I ask as I make eye contact with him in the rearview mirror.

  “Truth.”

  “Not really. Did you see the headline today?”

  “I did.” He pauses momentarily, then catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “He’s a prick.”

  I smile a half smile. Harry and I have been together since I became famous. I never in my wildest dreams thought I would have a personal driver and I didn’t want one, but as my fame increased, it made sense. My popularity soared, and having a driver made it easier for me to get in and out of places quickly. He’s part body-guard too. He may be twenty years my senior, but he’s one of the people I trust most in this industry. In some weird way, he reminds me of my own dad, which is comforting.

  “Listen, Mel. You deserve better than Nathanial. I know you probably couldn’t see it to begin with but a lot of us could. He’s self-centered and was looking for a get-famous-quick ticket.”

  “Why do I keep dating the same kind of guy over and over? They may have different faces, but they all end up being the same.”

  “Truth?”

  “Truth.”

  To those closest to me, meaning those I trust, truth is important, no matter how much it hurts.

  “You don’t think you’re worthy of a good, healthy love. You think everyone out there is out to get you, so that’s what you continually attract. Same man, different face.”

  My mouth opens to say something, but I shut it before I do. Maybe Harry’s right. Maybe I don’t think I deserve anything more than what I’ve had. My whole life, I’ve believed men have only liked me for my looks, so that’s what I’ve attracted. Men who think I look good on their arm, but the value of our relationship stays at the surface. There’s no real depth to them because all they see is my beauty. I swear, my looks are a curse.

  Harry pulls up to the curb in front of my office, gets out, and looks around motioning for the reporters to step back before opening my door. The minute my feet hit the pavement, bright lights go off in my face.

  “Ms. Morgan, any comment on your fiancée? Ms. Morgan, who is the woman with your fiancée? Did you know he was cheating? Ms. Morgan, how are you feeling…are you still engaged to Nathanial?”

  I stiffen and brace myself for the walk to my office door. While I shade my eyes with my purse, Harry takes my arm and shields me as best he can from the paparazzi. He walks me briskly to the front door and I let myself in.

  “Mel, are you okay?”

  I’m comforted by the sound of my best friend’s voice. Sarah and I have been friends since I moved to New York City. We met on a shoot when we were eighteen and hit it off immediately. We’ve traveled together, fallen in and out and of relationships with each other’s support, and have managed to maneuver this industry together to the best of our abilities. I’d say we’ve done pretty damn well. Sarah is now my business partner. She helps me run my MM brand, and I’m so thankful she’s with me.

  I turn with a flat smile, tears brimming in my eyes, and simply shrug my shoulders because I’m afraid if I speak, my voice will betray me.

  “Let’s go to your office, okay?” She links her arm in mine and steers me down the corridor to my office. I chose the one at the end of the hallway on the corner because I wanted a view of the city, and oh, did I get it.

  Sarah shuts my door quietly behind us and I hear the faint click of the
lock. I don’t turn to look at her because I know I’ll fall apart if I make eye contact.

  “Mel?”

  I shake my head back and forth.

  “Mel, you’ve got to talk to me. Don’t shut me out. What the hell is going on?”

  A loud sob escapes me. “I’m the biggest loser when it comes to love.” She’s behind me in an instant, wraps her arms around me, and lays her head on my back.

  “Melinda Morgan, that’s bullshit, and you know it.”

  “It’s not,” I say quietly through my tears. “Look at my history. I can’t keep a man to save my life and I don’t think I would know a good man if I saw one. Why do I keep choosing the assholes?”

  She releases me and steps back to circle around in front of me.

  “Because you don’t believe you deserve anything better.” She grimaces as the words tumble from her mouth.

  I open my mouth to say something then shut it again. I hear the echo of Harry’s words and I’m not sure how to respond.

  “Listen, you keep dating the same guy over and over again. They merely have different faces. You tend to go for the good-looking assholes who are full of themselves. Sure, they wine and dine you in the beginning and tell you everything you want to hear. But all of them have only wanted to say they’ve been with you, Mel. I’m sorry but it’s true. You’re worthy of so much more.”

  I walk behind my desk and stare out at the city before me. Of the millions of people who are in this city, you’d think there’d be one, just one, who would be right for me.

  “You’re right,” I say wearily. “I get so caught up in the glitz and glamour these guys tend to come with that I lose all sight of what I really want. Why in hell do I do that?”

  “Hormones.” She laughs and a snort escapes her.

  I smirk at her and a laugh bubbles up from within. I let it flow out of me and we are both suddenly annoyingly hysterical at her comment. God, it feels good to laugh. I feel like I haven’t done it in a million years.

  “I think you’re right,” I say and try to catch my breath.

  “Listen, I’m not saying I blame you. I mean, some of the men you’ve dated are hot as fuck. However, they have all turned out to be complete assholes in one way or another. It’s time to stay single and evaluate what it is you truly want, my friend.”

  I crumple a piece of paper and throw it at her. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  She catches it, throws it up in the air, and swats it back at me. “I know. It’s why you keep me around.”

  Sarah and I brief for the next thirty minutes and catch up on where we are with the brand. I’m so glad she’s on board and keeps this ship sailing in the right direction. I’d be lost without her. She’s not only my partner but also the social media genius behind our platform. She thrives in this environment and I love seeing her so happy. She left modeling a few years ago, when the brand finally took off. She said she was tired of all the running around and wanted to be more settled. I get it, although I still haven’t given it up myself. There’s something about it that I still love and haven’t been willing to give up yet. I lose myself in work for the next few hours. It feels good to actually do something instead of having a pity party. I look up when I hear a knock at my door.

  “Ms. Morgan, this came for you. It’s marked urgent.”

  I notice the small package in Viv’s hand as she walks toward me. She’s been my assistant for a year and a half, came highly recommended by a friend, and we immediately clicked. Viv’s attentive, knows when to back off, and gets shit done when I need it to be done. In simple terms, she’s a go-getter.

  “Thanks. I’ll have a look.”

  “Is there anything I can get you?” She pauses momentarily and waits for my response.

  “Hmm? Oh, no. Thank you. I’m fine.”

  I take the package from her and turn it over in my hands. She eyes me curiously but doesn’t say another word and exits my office. I can tell she’s gone because the vibe of the room has changed. I walk back to my desk to open it.

  “What in the world is this?” I say aloud to myself.

  In the package is a thumb drive. I don’t think much of it as I pop it into my computer and wait for whatever’s on the thumb drive to open up. It feels like it’s taking forever when in all actuality, it’s not.

  “Holy shit,” is all I can manage as hundreds of pictures pop up on my screen. But they’re not ordinary pictures. They are all of me in explicit sexual encounters with Nathanial, my ex-fiancée. Bile rises in my throat and I cannot keep it down. I reach for the trash can under my desk and let my stomach unload. There are few things I hate more than throwing up. It always makes me cry and want my mom. Call me crazy, but it does.

  I empty my stomach, lean back in my chair, and my eyes stare at the ceiling. The only thing I can think of is that my life is over if these pictures get out.

  Chapter Two

  Mason

  I’m antsy as I pace my brother’s office. He’s on the phone with a client, and my patience is worn right now as I wait for him to finish up so I continue to pace to keep myself occupied.

  “Jesus, Mase, you’ve got to get a hold of yourself,” he says as he hangs up.

  “Fuck off.”

  “Is that the only complete sentence you can say anymore? Get a better vocabulary, bro.”

  If he weren’t my brother, I’d have punched him by now, but because he is—and my younger one at that–I refrain from violence.

  “Can we talk about this case?” I ask, my voice clipped.

  “Have a seat,” he gestures toward the leather chair in front of his desk.

  I shake my head to decline his invitation. He releases a long, slow breath.

  “Fine. I need you to look into a Mr. Arnold—Mr. David Arnold. His wife is my client, who’s been badly beaten. They’ve been married for about a year and she claims this is the first time he’s ever hit her. I don’t buy it, but I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for the moment. They had a fight over finances and he blew up at her. It seems he didn’t like her spending more than her allotted allowance without his permission. See what you can find on him.”

  He throws a file in my direction. I pick it up, open it, and start pacing again. What is it with these men who hit women? My jaw clenches as my memories try to invade my mind. I push them away, before they can take over.

  “Mase?”

  “Yeah. Got it. Anything else?” I say as I grab the doorknob to leave.

  “Yeah. You’ve got to get some rest, bro. I’m worried about you.”

  I thrust the door open and hesitate momentarily because I want to tell him to fuck off. Instead, I decide not and head through the door. When I get outside, I take in a huge gulp of air and wonder why I always feel like I’m suffocating in that office. I worked in there for years and now, I feel like a trapped animal every time I’m there.

  My hand runs instinctively through my overgrown brown hair. I need to get it cut but it’s the last thing on my to-do list. What I really need to do is have a drink so I can stop the dark, murky memories from taking hold of my mind. Unfortunately, however I have work to do so that will have to wait until later. At least I’m smart enough to keep the two separate and not let one interfere with the other.

  I sit in my car and open the file on Mr. Arnold. It would seem that the man has a fair amount of money, which means he thinks he’s all-powerful, which also means he’s probably a controlling prick. Mrs. Arnold is considerably younger than him—at least twenty-five years and obviously a trophy wife, some would call her. Or a gold-digger. Either one would be suitable in this scenario. From the information in the file, Mr. Arnold divorced his wife of thirty years for the current Mrs. Arnold. He has three kids all in their twenties, who no longer speak to him. His ex-wife got a shit ton of money in the settlement, along with the house, boat, and dog. The divorce was finalized a year and a half ago and he wasted no time marrying again. What a douche.

  Gabe wants me to get whatever
information I can to incriminate Mr. Arnold so that he has a solid case against him. This, I have no doubt, will be easy enough to do. Guys like him aren’t usually that careful and if they are, they slip up eventually, and I’ll be the one to catch him when he falls.

  I head to downtown Tampa, find a parking spot in record time—which is unusual this time of day—and walk to One City Center where Mr. Arnold works. It’s lunchtime, so I hope to get a good look at him if he comes out for lunch, which I think he will. I wait inconspicuously in the lobby of the building with a newspaper in hand like a few of the other businessmen sitting around me. I sip a cup of coffee as I scan my surroundings for Mr. Arnold. Fifteen minutes later, he finally emerges from the elevator with a young brunette. I sit up straighter to get a better view.

  “Mase?”

  I cringe when I recognize the voice.

  “Mase, is that you?”

  I turn slowly to where the sound is coming from and paste a fake smile across my face. Great, just what I fucking need right now.

  “I thought that was you. What are you doing here? Let me guess, you’re playing Magnum P.I.,” she says sarcastically.

  My ex-wife is beautiful, I’ll give her that. Her long blonde hair shimmers down the middle of her back. as she crosses the room toward me. She turns the heads of every man in here, which she knows and loves, but that’s where her beauty ends. Inside, she’s a fucking monster.

  “Not playing, Sheila. It’s what I actually do now, remember?”

  “How could I forget. You chose your new career over me.”

  She steps closer to me—a little too close, actually—but I don’t budge. I won’t give her the satisfaction of taking a step backward.

  “If I remember correctly, you chose to leave because of my new career. There’s a difference.”

  Her fingers brush my arms lightly. The urge to pull my arm back immediately is strong, but again, I won’t give her the satisfaction of letting her know she has any effect on me, even if it’s pure repulsion. We played this game through our divorce and I wouldn’t let her win then, so I certainly won’t let her win now. She always thought she could seduce me back with the simple gesture of batting her eyelashes or touching me, but it didn’t work. Once she showed me her true colors, I was done.