Page 1 of Forbidden Desires

Chapter 1

Brody

Seventeen years earlier

Friction crackles in the air as we line up for the next play. Tension coils in my body like a spring,ready to unleash on the opposing offense. That fucker, Lucas Rosas, smiles at me, this smug shit-eating grin that I would be happy to wipe right off his face. I’m on edge tonight. Something’s got to give. The Raiders need this win.

Hamilton, our quarterback, calls the play. My focus is razor-sharp; it has to be as linebacker.

"Hey, Alexander! Heard your old man was caught fucking some skank that wasn’t your ma. What are you going to do about it?” Lucas calls just as the ball’s about to be released.

I freeze, fists clenched at my sides, as the words echo in my ears. What the fuck is he talking about?

Parker glares at him. “Keep your fucking mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” he snarls with intensity in his eyes.

With a roar, I surge forward, barreling into Lucas with the force of a freight train. The impact sends us both crashing to the turf, a tangled mess of limbs and rage. Parker’s right behind me, defending me as one of the other guys jumps in.

The whistle’s blown, and we’re dragged off each other. Adrenaline courses through my veins. My father’s done it again. He fucking promised me last time was the one and only, but I always knew he was fucking lying. He won’t get away with it this time.

Now

That night changed my life forever. Not because we went on to win the local derby and showed the Bluewater Beach Eels they couldn’t mess with us and get away with it, but because of the chain of events it kicked off. And as I sit here and listen to my father’s last testament being read, I feel just as angry as I did that night. How dare my father destroy our family. All because he couldn’t keep his cock in his motherfucking pants.

My head throbs, the aftereffects of drinking until the early hours of the morning with Parker Whittaker and Elliot McAllister, two of my brothers from the team. Back when we were seventeen, that football team was our world, the boys in it our brothers for life. Except it didn’t work out that way in the end. I haven’t seen either of them for years. The ache in my cheek is a reminder of how fucked up things got between all of us back then. Getting into a fight with the Prescott brothers at McAllister's is yet another reason why I shouldn't come back to this town. Hamilton holds me responsible for what happened.

I clutch my sister’s hand under the table, not sure how to help her through this. She loved our father, but she doesn’t know the truth. She was too young when it all went down.

Lana Alexander, my father’s new wife, has been granted control of the Alexander estate. She grins greedily, but she can have it. I don’t want anything that reminds me of him or what he did to our mother.

"‘The Alexander Hotel will be left in the capable hands of my son, Brody Alexander, and he will assume the position of CEO,’" our family lawyer, WadeMonroe, reads, and my skin prickles. "‘Under the proviso that in twelve months, he will turn the business around. If he fails, control may be transferred to Lana Alexander, making her the CEO. Victor will oversee operations as the general manager during this interim period, guiding him through the day-to-day.’"

My jaw clenches, the swelling from the shiner and busted-up cheek throbbing, a reminder of why I can’t stay in Deception Bay. I have enemies here. The Prescotts top that list.

Lana gasps.

This is my worst nightmare. Part of me thought he would leave it all to the tramp who managed to lock him down. Or to Victor, his right-hand man for so many years. Or even my sister who has been helping run the place since she graduated high school. I don’t deserve it or want it.

As Emerson squeezes my hand, I can't shake the feeling that she's pushing me to defend our family legacy. This is important to her. I know it is.

"‘Emerson, my beloved daughter,’" the lawyer continues, "‘as part of my bequest, you inherit the two downtown houses and the responsibility for the wedding-and-events side of the business under Brody’s direction. Collaborate effectively with your brother, contribute your unique skills, and grow our family legacy. Make me proud.’"

Lana snorts, sounding like the pig she is. Disgusting.

Emerson casts a quick glance in my direction. I can't offer the answers she's searching for. Perspiration trickles along my spine. I came home for the funeral like she wanted. I did it all for her. But I can’t stay here. This town will suck the life right out of me.

Victor assesses me with a subtle twitch of his left eye. He didn’t expect The Alexander to be left to me either. Working by Victor’s side seems impossible. He might have been my father’s constant, but I don’t trust him for a second.

As Mr. Monroe concludes the proceedings, Lana and Victor exit the room. I stare at the wall in front. I have a job, one I enjoy. I have a life back in New York, and that’s where I want to stay.

Emerson tugs my hand, and I realize Mr. Monroe is motioning us over.

"There is another stipulation in the contract your father insisted upon. ‘Employee Relationships: No managers are to engage in any romantic or personal relationships with employees under their direct employ of The Alexander Hotel during the term of this Agreement,’" he states, and I exchange a puzzled glance with my sister. "‘In the event that management is in a pre-existing romantic relationship with a current employee, they shall promptly disclose such a relationship to the CEO in writing. The current hotel board of directors reserves the right to assess and address any potential conflicts of interest arising from such relationships and, if deemed necessary, the board of directors may be required to take appropriate actions, including but not limited to reassignment or termination of the employment contract. If this stipulation is not met, the hotel will revert ownership to Lana Alexander.’"

The fucking nerve of him. After what he was doing in that place. I nod, not giving away what I know to my sister. "I understand," I agree. I don’t look at Emerson. I don’t want her to see what I’m keeping from her.

“A bit of advice from me: keep your eyes open, both of you. Your father altered the stipulations of his will the week before his heart attack. He didn't appear his usual self—something had him on edge. I sensed he was worried someone close might be plotting against him. I urged him to report it to the police, but he declined, fearing he'd be dismissed as paranoid. It was all based on a hunch; from what he told me he had no concrete evidence to go off, but something was scaring him.” Mr. Monroe hands each of us an envelope, bearing our names handwritten on the front.

"What did the autopsy reveal?" Emerson asks.

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