Life of Privilege Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Book Description

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  Life of Privilege

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-527-7

  ©Copyright Amanda Bretz 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright April 2015

  Edited by Sarah Smeaton

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 2.

  What’s her Secret?

  LIFE OF PRIVILEGE

  Amanda Bretz

  Living the life of a celebrity isn’t always as perfect as it seems.

  Katherine Dawson was born into a life of privilege as the heiress to an apparel dynasty. Between judging a reality TV competition for budding fashion designers and having been the face of her family’s clothing line for most of her life, she’s one of the biggest celebrities in her field.

  When she becomes engaged to up-and-coming television producer Nathan Taylor, she appears to have it all. To any outsider, she has a picture-perfect life, so when Katherine leaves her groom-to-be at the altar and disappears, the tabloids are full of speculation over her sudden departure.

  Fleeing New York to hide out in Seattle, she quickly finds that living the life of an heiress in hiding isn’t as easy as she thought, especially after she meets a magnetic writer named Royce Reynolds. In her new life on the West Coast, she struggles to keep her anonymity, and experiences a relationship with a man who wants her for the person she is, not the celebrity she used to be.

  Dedication

  To my dad, for telling me I could do anything I wanted in life.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Louboutin: Christian Louboutin Suisse SA

  Dom Pérignon: Moët & Chandon

  Louis Vuitton: Louis Vuitton Malletier

  TMZ: Time Warner Inc.

  E!: NBCUniversal Cable Entertainment Group

  CNN: Time Warner Inc.

  Prius: Toyota Motor Corporation

  Hummer: General Motors Company

  Chanel: Chanel S.A.

  Xanax: Pfizer, Inc.

  Valium: Hoffmann-La Roche

  Dr. Phil: CBS Television Distribution

  Beecher’s mac and cheese: Kurt Beecher Dammeier

  The Iliad: Homer

  Pollyanna: Eleanor H. Porter

  Styrofoam: The Dow Chemical Co.

  Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson

  Chapter One

  “Daddy?”

  Katherine Dawson’s voice echoed off the stone walls of St. Patrick’s cathedral. As one of New York City’s oldest churches, the structure had enough prestige and beauty to hold Sunday service, memorials, and it provided the perfect setting for storybook weddings.

  When her father didn’t answer right away, Katherine gathered the heavy material of her wedding gown in her hand and walked the few steps to reach her dad. She looked down at the enormous bouquet of flowers in her hand and almost lost her nerve. Yet the longer she stared at the arrangement of white roses, calla lilies and orchids, the more it reinforced her gut reaction to this day. Like the stunning flowers arranged so perfectly in the bundle, she was also trussed up and made to look pristine. She too was arranged at her peak, the moment in her life when she was likely most attractive. She knew if she went through with this decision that just like the flowers, soon she would wither and lose her beautiful essence. Through the heavy wooden doors, she heard the faint strains coming from the fifteen-piece orchestra. They were preparing to play the wedding march. It was now or never. If she had any chance at escaping the glamorous affair, it was in this moment.

  “Daddy.” She stood in front of her father and knew she must look as panicked and frightened as a wounded animal. “I have to get out of here. I can’t go through with this.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked fast to push them away. Once the waterworks started, she didn’t know when they might stop. She dropped her hold on the dress and reached for her father’s hand.

  “I’m leaving. If you want to stay and deal with mother’s temper tantrums when she finds out I left Nathan at the altar, so be it. Daddy, I just can’t do this. Well, won’t you say something?”

  Her father cleared his throat and it was then she noticed the tears that had formed in his eyes. She hated that she’d let him down, but she couldn’t go through life with such a momentous lie hanging over her head. She stood on tiptoe, wrapping her arms around him for a quick hug. “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. I don’t want to be a disappointment to you, but I have to stay true to myself. You won’t see me for a while. I’m going away, but I don’t know where yet. I’ve got to go find out who I really am without all the pressures of being Katherine Dawson hanging over my head.”

  “Kitty Kat,” he whispered, using her childhood nickname, “I could never be disappointed in you. I’m crying because you’ve made me happy. Go find yourself. Follow your dreams. That’s what I’ve always wanted for you. I love you.”

  “Daddy, I love you, too.”

  She turned her head toward the heavy wooden doors again. The wedding march was playing. She had to go now. Preparing for the sprint she knew she’d have to do to make it to the limousine that waited outside, she kicked off her silver-sequined Louboutin heels. Dropping her bouquet on the ground and gathering her skirt in her hands, she hurried out of the front door and down the church steps.

  In her haste to escape the wedding, she’d forgotten about the crowd of reporters and spectators gathered along the sidewalk and in the street. At least fifty black cameras took aim at her and several eager members of the paparazzi stood right in her path, their camera flashes going off. She refused to look into their lenses, even as they called out to her by name. Her gaze was locked in on the back door of the limousine. Once she got there, she’d be home free.

  “Katherine! Katherine! Why are you running?”

  “Have cold feet, Katherine?”

  “Where’s the groom?”

  Ignoring the inane questions from the media, sh
e opened the door to the back seat of the car. Franklin, her family’s driver, jumped from the front seat, prepared to help her into the vehicle. Katherine met his gaze and she shook her head. He took her unspoken command and hopped back behind the wheel. She could handle the paparazzi. After all, she’d been dodging the vultures since she’d been a teen. Pulling the door closed behind her provided a moment of peace. However, her relief was cut short as half of the camera-wielding men formed a semi-circle around the limousine while the rest scattered to nearby cabs. The car had to move before they got trapped—or worse—were followed by the bloodthirsty press.

  “Where to?”

  Her mind raced while she tried to think of someplace safe the driver could take her.

  “Take me to my penthouse. No, wait!” She knew that would be the next place the paparazzi looked for her. It wouldn’t do if the press followed them to her apartment. Arriving in the sleek, black town car was a dead giveaway. She wished for the anonymity of a taxi.

  “Take me up a few blocks, then I can hop out, hail a cab and have the driver drop me off around back.”

  She glanced down at the ivory wedding dress. She needed to get out of the itchy, Godforsaken gown. It was starting to feel like a vise, squeezing the life from her body, not to mention she was barefoot. If she stepped out onto the street corner in her current state of dress the media would descend upon her within seconds. Damn, so much for arriving in an anonymous yellow cab. She gave him the go-ahead to go to her house anyway, and to her relief, Franklin floored the vehicle, giving no consideration to the assholes with cameras standing around in the street.

  While they peeled out from in front of the church, Franklin assured her that he would drop her off at the private back entrance of her building. Provided they could lose the press between here and the short drive to her place, the car could pull into the restricted garage where she could slip into the private elevator to her house. Being carted around Manhattan in a town car was more her mother’s style. Katherine couldn’t remember the last time she’d had Franklin pick her up or drop her off at her penthouse. Under normal circumstances she preferred to walk or drive herself. As the limo weaved in and out of the mid-town traffic, she felt a surge of relief. She’d pulled off something that had previously seemed impossible and had saved herself from a huge mistake.

  Now, what to do next?

  Looking around the interior of the limousine, she noticed the chilled bottles of Dom Pérignon and twin champagne flutes. A drink sounded heavenly. God knew she needed something to soothe her nerves. Even though she’d gotten away from the church, the stickiest parts were yet to come. After popping the cork on the bubbly, she put the bottle to her mouth and took a long pull. Letting the exquisite liquid dance upon her tongue, she thought about the coming aftershocks of leaving Nathan at the altar.

  Her wedding had been touted as one of the biggest social events of the year. Hell, there had been more media parked out front of the church than there had been the last time the president had been in town. She took another swig of Dom and scratched at the bobby pins nestled in her mane. Pulling the veil from her head, she tugged hard enough to rip a few strands of hair out. Her elaborate updo was wrecked, but she didn’t give a damn. No one was going to see her.

  “Twenty-fifty,” she called to Franklin, giving him her code for the gate to the private garage at her building.

  “I still remember your code. I may be getting on in years, but I remember the important things.”

  He pulled up to the private elevator that led to the penthouse and jumped out to assist her. Katherine was too quick. She’d already hopped from the back seat by the time he’d rounded the car. Despite the warm June day, the concrete floor of the garage was cool beneath her bare feet.

  “Do you want the bags out of the trunk, Miss Katherine?”

  “Yes, I suppose I’ll need them. The three pieces of Louis Vuitton are mine. The rest belong to…Mr. Taylor,” she said, speaking of her now ex-fiancé’s luggage.

  She’d completely forgotten about her baggage. She’d assumed they’d already been delivered to the room at the Plaza where she and Nathan were supposed to spend the night. Thank heaven for small miracles. That would be one less thing she’d need to take care of. The driver placed the largest bag on the ground then sifted through the other items in the trunk. Impatient and knowing she was on borrowed time, Katherine reached in and slung her carry-on bag over her shoulder then grabbed the small suitcase in her left hand.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got it.” She popped the handle of the larger bag up to pull it behind her. Looking earnestly in the driver’s eyes, she pleaded, “I won’t need you anymore today. Feel free to do whatever you want from here. This little…snag has no effect on your pay. If you choose to return to the church, please tell no one where you brought me and please don’t bring anyone here.”

  “Of course, miss. If it’s all the same to you, I could really use the evening off. Don’t worry. I won’t breathe a word of your whereabouts to your mother.”

  “Take the evening off with pay. If my mother tries to say otherwise, don’t listen to her. I’ll have my assistant see to it that you’re paid. Thank you for all that you’ve done for me.” She squeezed his hand in appreciation, wishing she knew where her purse was in her collection of bags, so she could slip him a hefty tip.

  Dragging her luggage behind her, she hurried to the elevator, punched in her access code then rode all the way to the top. Thankfully she had the option of keypad access to enter her apartment as well, since she didn’t want to spend the minute to rifle through her bags for her keys. She knew that time was of the essence. It was only a matter of moments before someone, her mother, Nathan or Tiffany—her personal assistant—showed up at her door. She could barricade herself inside and put off the inevitable by changing the access code to her apartment door. At least then no one could come inside. Of course that wouldn’t stop them from beating on the door or blowing up her cell.

  As though on cue, the electronic device started ringing. She heard the muffled bleeping noise coming from the attaché case slung over her shoulder. Picking a six-digit code at random, Katherine went through the necessary steps to change her access code. She could scratch that item off her to-do list. In doing so, she’d held off the wolves for a little longer.

  After dumping her luggage in the middle of the foyer, she tore at the gown, trying to get the constrictive piece of clothing off her body. The bodice laced up the back and fit her figure like a glove. It had taken the help of two people to get the dress on her. It wasn’t likely that she could get it off without the help of another person. That was, of course, unless she didn’t care if the damned thing remained intact. At the moment, she didn’t. She grabbed a pair of scissors, then went to work on getting the offending garment off. The dress had been designed especially for her. It was an exquisite piece of clothing. She knew cutting it was a selfish move.

  It could also have a cathartic effect, like a snake shedding its skin or a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. Destroying the gown could be therapeutic and the first step in claiming her new identity. Gone would be her old life, the old her. The new Katherine would surface from the horrible event stronger, better and more vivacious—like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

  “Shit, I’ve lost my mind.”

  Enough with the transformative metaphors. Just do it already.

  The sound of the shears ripping through the heavy silk fabric should have mortified her. After all, she’d spent most of her life in the fashion industry. To any other apparel heiress, what she was doing was a crime so heinous she should be punished with a life sentence on the worst-dressed list. That was the thing about her. She just didn’t care. Never had and never would, she realized, as she tore through the dress. When it lay in a shredded pool of fabric at her ankles, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air for what felt like the first time in an eternity.

  Her cell phone chimed again. She’d received a text message. Choosing
to ignore it, she strutted into her bedroom and pulled off the white strapless bra and matching thong. She grabbed a black tank top and a pair of running shorts. Her cell phone rang, and she decided it was time to face the music—or at least see who was calling her, and see what kind of texts and voicemails they’d left.

  A glance at the device’s screen told her she had twelve voicemails. Somewhat methodically, she listened to the messages. The first ten were from her mother. One was from her assistant and the last was a hang up. Tiffany offered to help her in any way she could. She’d even gone so far as to ask if she could handle the press or hold her calls, emails and social media profiles until further notice. Her mother’s messages weren’t quite as friendly.

  She’d threatened her with disinheritance, which was just a bluff anyway, since Ivy and Plaid was her father’s company. Like so many other things in life, her mother had simply taken over the clothing line when they’d married. True, she was mostly responsible for where the company was today. She’d breathed new life into the line. She’d expanded it, reinvented and strengthened their brand. The reality TV show had been her baby as well.

  Sighing, she dropped her cell phone on the bed. She didn’t want to think about her mother or her enterprising ways. Experience told her that her mother wouldn’t take her leaving Nathan at the altar lying down. She’d do everything in her power—and if it was one thing her mother had, it was power—to make sure Katherine mended things with Nathan.

  Grabbing the remote, she flipped on the flat-screen TV that hung on her bedroom wall. Torturing herself, she headed straight for one of the twenty-four hour cable news channels. Standing stock-still, she watched and listened for any mention of her name. She lifted the remote, ready to turn the TV off. She’d been vain to presume running out of her wedding would merit a story on a respectable news station. TMZ or E! sure, but CNN? Probably not. Just as she was about to flip to another channel, she read her name as it came across the crawl at the bottom of the screen.