Forbidden Desires

by Roberts, Jaimie

  Closing the laptop down, I make my way to the shower. Once I'm dry, I pick out the best dress I can find in my wardrobe. It doesn't take long considering I only have two good dresses to my name. A red one, and a black one. I choose the red one—my mother hates black clothing. She always refers it to funeral wear. "Stop dressing like someone's died," she would always say.

  With that last thought, I step into the chiffon dress and carefully pull it over my hips. I hook my arms inside and manage to zip it up. It's long, sleek, and has red transparent sleeves that flow out beautifully. I match the garment with maroon pumps before sitting at my tiny mirror to put makeup on. Smoky eyes are the name of the game tonight. I have to look my best for mother's fiancé.

  I laugh out loud at the thought. My mother getting married. It all sounds absurd.

  I'm in the middle of applying some dark cherry lipstick when the devil barges into my room without even knocking. "Are you ready? The car’s here." I nod. "Get your shit together and hurry up. Meet you downstairs."

  She disappears, and I sigh. Pretending to be a doting daughter for the next few hours fills me with a sense of dread. I may be good at acting, but I'm not that good.

  "Can't keep mother waiting," I chime as I grab my bag, place my phone inside, and make my way out to the waiting black Buick.

  As I approach, the driver's door opens, and out steps a very tall man in a crisp black suit. "Ms. Williams," he says, nodding in salute before opening my door.

  "Thank you.” A strange sensation washes over me. I'm not used to this.

  "You're welcome." He smiles, showing me his excellent white teeth.

  "So, where are we heading?" I ask my mom as I climb in next to her.

  "Owen has a condo in Tribeca, but he uses that mainly for business. We'll be visiting his residence in Scarsdale. Wait until you see his house—absolutely stunning."

  The driver gets in, and soon, we're on our way, fighting through the busy New York traffic. Once we pass it all, it takes another twenty minutes until we advance through the gates of the most magnificent mansion I have ever seen. My eyes widen as I take in the stone brick house with a thousand bay windows, wooden shutters, and a grand marble staircase leading up to the impressive double doors of this magnificent home. Attached to it is a massive garage, and there must be at least six acres of land surrounding it, if not more.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?"

  I nod. This is something my mom and I can agree on. "I have no words."

  "Well, you’ll have to become used to it. This will be your new home in two weeks."

  The driver pulls up to the door and lets us out. I offer my gratitude again, and then after that another man in a suit, shoulders back, and tight-lipped motions for us to step into the house.

  "Good evening, Ms. Williams, and to you, Ms. Williams,” he directs to me. “I trust your journey was pleasant."

  "Yes, it was, Frank."

  My mother walks through the door without another word. There's an air of distaste on his face as his eyes follow her, but it quickly fades when he turns back, spotting my hand out. "Hi, I'm Savannah. Nice to meet you."

  Frank’s eyes travel down toward my hand. "Nice to meet you too." He takes my hand, shaking it, and I offer a really big smile. His face immediately softens. He leans over, and whispers, "I can see you're definitely not your mother."

  I giggle. "No, most certainly not."

  "That's good to know," he replies, winking. "May I offer you a drink?"

  I shake my head. "No, I don't want to be a bother."

  He makes a tsk sound under his breath. "You're not, my child. It's what I'm paid to do."

  Knowing I'm too young to consume alcohol, I say, "Some water would be great, thanks."

  He leans over again. "A glass of champagne it is."

  I like Frank.

  His hand waves, motioning for me to go through. I pass him, eyes widening as I take in the expanse of the hallway. Beautiful, shiny floors, cream walls, and a most exquisite spiral staircase greet me as I step farther in.

  "Where's Owen?" my mom practically snaps at Frank.

  "He's busy in his office, but assures you he will be with you in five minutes. If you can wait in the west reception room, I will fetch you some drinks."

  My mother walks off, and I make haste, following her. "Thank you," I say to Frank as I scurry off.

  "You're welcome," he returns before walking off to what I assume is the kitchen.

  My mother opens the door to a very plush room, with modern furnishings and warm terracotta walls. The fireplace alone looks as big as my bedroom back in our condo.

  Making herself at home, my mother practically throws her bag onto the big black leather couch before plonking herself down along with it.

  "So, what do you think?"

  I carefully sit down, afraid I'll break something. Everything looks so expensive. "It's beautiful."

  "It is, isn't it?" Her big smile turns into a frown. "Don't you fuck this up for me. Be nice to your stepfather. He's going to be paying our way, so you show him nothing but respect."

  What, like you are? I want to ask her, but bite my tongue.

  "Of course.” Diplomacy is something I’ve had no option but to learn over the years because of her attitude. She knows better than to think I would do otherwise. It just goes to show how little she’s aware about her only daughter.

  "Good," she responds as Frank walks in with our champagne. She takes her glass without a word.

  Annoyed at her disrespect, I take mine, and as loud as I can, say, "Thank you.”

  The amusement in his eyes portrays he’s not bothered in the slightest by my mother’s blatant rudeness. “You’re very welcome.”

  "Ahhh, there you are," my mother sings, getting up from her seat, her whole demeanor changing within an instant.

  I glance up to where she's looking, and when my eyes meet his sea of green, my heart stops. I knew from looking him up earlier he was handsome, but I never expected just how much. I'm not one for older guys, but looking at Owen Montgomery, one would never imagine he’s nearly double my age. With only a dash of very fine wrinkles under his eyes, his irises sparkle with a hint of young mischief. He's wearing a very crisp, very expensive blue suit with a lilac tie. His jet-black hair is slicked back, and there’s day-old stubble on his face—which only heightens his manliness. His lips are full, soft, and extremely kissable, and his body is so sculpted, he'd make Dwayne Johnson jealous.

  Oh my God! What am I saying? I shouldn't be thinking this about my mom's future husband! Pull yourself together, Savannah!

  "Sorry about that," he offers. "I had an urgent call."

  "No worries. You're here now."

  Owen flits his eyes from my mother to me. When they slowly glide over my attire as I stand up, my legs almost wobble from his intense gaze.

  "And you must be Savannah? Nice to meet you." He holds his hand out to me, and I shake it. His skin warm and his grip firm. "Your mother didn't do you justice when she told me how beautiful you are."

  My cheeks redden at his compliment, and he offers me a knowing smile. I'm surprised my mother even mentioned me.

  "I guess you're rather stumped at how quickly your mother and I got together and got engaged."

  "I must admit, yes."

  They both laugh before he motions toward the couch. "Please. Sit. We shall talk."

  With still slightly wobbly legs, I make my way over to my seat and wait as Owen and my mother take theirs opposite me. Mom clasps her hand around his, looking every bit the doting fiancée. A fraction of wrinkles forming on Owen’s brow and his mouth jerking slightly to the side, makes me believe he’s wincing, but maybe I'm seeing things.

  Maybe it's what I want to see.

  Owen clears his throat. "I know this must have come as a shock to you, but when your mother and I met, I knew I had to marry her. It is very soon, and I understand you must have a lot of questions, but I wanted to bring you here not only to meet you, but to also put your mind at
ease about becoming a part of my family…as I am yours."

  I let out a small breath. "I was shocked when I heard. I knew Mom had been seeing someone, but I had no idea it was moving this fast."

  "I understand your fears and want to allay all of them. I told your mother I was looking for an assistant. It seems I have the perfect candidate right here in front of me. I have heard lots about you, Savannah, and I think you and I will be a great fit together. Will you meet me for lunch tomorrow so we can discuss the job and get to know each other better? There's no pressure. If you feel the job's not for you, I won't be offended."

  Wow, this man. What on earth does he see in my mother?

  "I will gladly meet you for lunch tomorrow, Mr. Montgomery. Thank you."

  "Please, call me Owen…"

  "Or maybe even Dad," my mother says, sticking her two cents in.

  Owen laughs nervously, and I hold back my cringe. "What time do you want to meet tomorrow?" I ask, changing the subject.

  "I will have a car pick you up at around twelve. Is that agreeable with you?"

  "Perfect."

  "Great," he says, slapping his knee. "Now that we have that out of the way, let's make a toast." Owen leans forward, grabbing his drink from the coffee table, the dark amber liquid swimming with a single cube of ice.

  I grab my champagne, and we all clink glasses. "To family," Owen chimes.

  "To family," we all say together. I swallow the cool champagne, relishing the cold, crisp sensation. The champagne is delicious.

  "So, Savannah, your mother tells me you worked as an assistant before?"

  I nod. "Yes, that's right. He ran a recruitment firm in the financial district."

  "How long were you there for?"

  I bite my lip. "Six months."

  He frowns. "Only six months? Did you not enjoy it there?"

  I did, until my boss started to become handsy when we were alone. At first, it was odd touching of the arms, until it moved to hand around the waist and that hand started moving lower. When it got to a stage where he touched my ass, I slapped him, and he threatened to use his connections to make sure I was never hired anywhere if I didn’t show my appreciation. I gave into his touches, letting him grope me, until I started feeling physically sick every time I had to go to work. When he asked me to stay behind one night and told me to take off all my clothes, that was my last straw. I walked right out of the building and never looked back. That was four months ago, and funnily enough, I haven't been able to find another job since. I was a damn good employee, but my name is no doubt mud now. It makes me so angry every time I think about it.

  "The boss and I clashed on many occasions. I was very good at my job, it was just…well, he…let's just say he wanted more from me than I could give him."

  Owen offers me a soft smile, and my nervousness dissipates.

  "That's too bad." He looks away for a moment, his lips forming a hard line. "What is his name? I may know him."

  "Justin May."

  His eyes widen. "Unfortunately, I do. The man is a tool."

  A small laugh escapes my lips. "Yes, you could say that."

  "I'm surprised you lasted six months."

  "Well, it wasn't without its difficulties. I loved the job, I just didn't like the boss."

  "Hopefully, I will be a better one."

  I smile sweetly at him. I already feel comfortable around him. "Satan himself would be better than Justin May."

  Owen chuckles. "I'm not sure whether that was a compliment or not."

  "Yes, Savannah, watch your mouth," Mom snaps, scowling at me.

  Owen places a hand on her knee, silencing her. "Sarah, it's fine. A bit of harmless banter, that’s all.”

  My eyes flit from his hand on my mother’s knee to his cool, mint greens, and for a moment, our eyes lock like we're in some sort of silent conversation. I wonder how someone as beautiful as him is marrying my mother. What he's thinking, I have no idea, but it makes me feel…tingly—not how I should be thinking of my future stepfather.

  "How did you two meet?" I ask, changing the subject and trying ever so hard to stop the blush heating my cheeks.

  Owen looks toward my mother. "Do you want to tell it, or shall I?"

  She pats his hand. "No, you tell it. You're much better at this than I am."

  Owen looks back toward me. "Well, it all started one rainy Monday morning…"

  Backstabbers

  O Jays

  Present

  "It all started one rainy Monday morning."

  I will never forget the words from all those months ago. Owen had practically sang their meeting, and I sat there mesmerized as he relayed their unfolding love story. It sounded too good to be true.

  That's because it was.

  My mom had been out shopping when it started downpouring. The heavens opened, practically drowning her within seconds. She ran out into the road to seek shelter, but hadn't been looking where she was going. Car tires screeched and my mother fell forward—straight into very big strong arms. Owen saved her, and on that rainy Monday morning, their eyes locked, and they instantly fell in love.

  After I heard it, I’d wanted to vomit. Instead, I smiled sweetly and told them how beautiful it all was.

  "Savannah, are you ready? Terry’s arrived. He wants to meet you."

  I sigh in frustration, closing my eyes. “I'm coming!" I shout back. I can't believe my mom's pimping me out, but really, why am I surprised? Terry Vendable is the son of a very respectable and wealthy lawyer. Recently, Vendable turned into Vendable and Son. Terry is now partner and a shareholder in the company—and marriage material for all wealthy women wanting to sink their teeth into even more wealth. I want nothing to do with it. Just because I’m in this life now doesn’t mean I want to live it.

  Knowing I have no other choice but to make my way downstairs, I brush my hands down my sleek, figure-hugging red dress, and walk out the door. Muffled voices carry from the hallway up to the landing.

  I take to the stairs, careful not to trip over myself along the way. The moment I step on the last one, my mother walks toward me. "There you are. Come…meet Terry.” Trying to get me to move faster, she waves her hand like a mad woman.

  I want to scowl at her, but offer a saccharine smile as she leads me toward Terry. I wasn't expecting a lot when I met him, and to be honest, I haven't disappointed myself. Sure, he’s handsome, with his preppy mousy brown hair, dimples, and soft brown eyes, but something about him turns me off. I don't know what it is, but I'm sure I’ll find out soon enough.

  "Terry, this is my daughter, Savannah. Savannah, this is Terry."

  Terry sweeps his eyes down my body before they meet mine, a cocky smirk on his face.

  Creep.

  "Savannah, I've heard so much about you. It's a pleasure."

  "Likewise," I reply, holding out my hand, expecting to shake his. Instead, he pulls my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. My skin immediately burns, like his lips are made of acid.

  "You look absolutely stunning," Terry says, trailing his eyes to my cleavage.

  I want to tell him my eyes aren't down there, but I withhold the thought. "Thank you."

  "I will leave you two to get to know each other." My mother squeezes Terry’s arm, offering him a wink before scurrying off. I’m starting to feel like an auction piece.

  "Champagne, Savannah?" Frank asks, holding out a tray to me.

  "Thank you, Frank," I reply, taking the glass from the tray. He bows his head before walking off.

  "Are you normally on a first name basis with the servants?"

  Who is this ass?

  I eye him up and down. "Not only is Frank Owen's butler, he's also a valued member of the family."

  He frowns like that's the most preposterous thing. "Hmm…strange."

  The only thing strange is your attitude.

  "Would you like to take a walk in the gardens? It's an unusually warm evening for December."

  I want to tell him no, but refrain fr
om being impolite—no matter how impolite this ass is.

  I nod, and we both lead the way to the back exit where I spot Owen talking to one of his partners, Clayton. As if sensing I'm there, he looks up, his lips forming into a hard line, his jaw ticking with anger. I can't help the little flurry of desire at his jealousy. My mother countlessly flirts with others, eyelashes fluttering, the grip of their arm with her hand, and not once does Owen show any signs of emotion. With me, however, there's an abundance.

  "My father tells me you're Owen's assistant."

  Now we're onto small talk. "That's right," I answer, looking down as I step out into the night. The asshole's right. It is a warm evening. Highly unusual for this time of year.

  Glancing up as we walk, I look up to the stars. The sky is black, but is lit up by a mass of twinkling bright lights. The full moon glistens off the pool in the distance like diamonds. It’s in these moments I take stock at how lucky I am to lead such a lavish life. I always hated the way my mom thinks, but I do not hate the life she's brought me into. It’s at least something I can be grateful to her for. Through all my years, I have always felt restless in the houses we lived in, but since moving in here more than six months ago, I proudly call this place my home. I’m always concerned I may break something, but apart from that, I’m happy.

  "I bet it’s a little weird, working for your dad and all."

  I almost wince at Terry's referral to Owen being my dad. He certainly doesn't feel like my dad when he's thrusting his hard cock inside me.

  "Stepdad," I correct. "And no, funnily enough, it doesn't feel weird. I think it's because I have worked for Owen from day one." We reach the first door of the stables and I happily place my champagne glass down to pet my beautiful white horse, Katrina. She was a gift to me after Owen married my mother—a gift I have been forever grateful for.

  Terry rounds Katrina's other side and leans on the stable door. I sense his eyes scrutinizing me as I stroke Katrina's soft neck.