Forbidden Desires Collection 1 Read online

  Forbidden Desires

  (Collection 1, Books 1-3)

  By Reese Winters

  Copyright 2019 Reese Winters

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  My Father’s Business Partner

  The Nerd Next Door

  My Brother’s Best Friend

  HOW WAS IT?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  MORE BY REESE WINTERS

  ROUGE RIVER MOUNTAIN MEN:

  His Rugged Mountain Outlaw: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WJWZXW9

  BIG CITY QUICKIES:

  Big City Quickies 3 Book Bundle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RM41WZ3

  A Fresh Start: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PPWMTYL

  Cooling Off: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PZCFQCP

  Open House: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07Q98G55K

  ON THE JOB DESIRES:

  On the Job Desires 3 Book Bundle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07SK9BYHW

  Building Heat: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07R5ZJ7VD

  Extra Credit: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07R95PS6T

  Over Time: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07S2DDZ6V

  My Father’s Business Partner

  (Forbidden Desires Book 1)

  By Reese Winters

  Copyright 2019 Reese Winters

  Roman Green slammed his heavy textbook shut and stuffed it in his leather messenger bag before slinging it over his shoulder. His last class of the day had extended ten minutes too long with unnecessary questions, and it was Friday. It was the Friday after the first week of school, to be exact, in his second year of graduate studies. He tossed long dreadlocks over his shoulders as he eased out of the shallow aisle and walked around the perimeter of the classroom, pausing behind other students on the way out.

  “Green, wait up,” his best friend, Simon, called, clapping him on the shoulder. “Are you headed to the pub? I think everyone else is going over there.”

  “No, I don’t think so, actually. I was thinking about having a quiet night at my apartment. I’ve still got a lot of unpacking to do.”

  His friend’s boyish features distorted in a frown. “Unpacking? On a Friday night? I get the introvert thing, but dude you gotta get out more unless you plan on being single all your life.”

  Roman frowned as they jogged down the steps of the building and pushed open two heavy double doors, greeting the afternoon sunlight with squinted eyes. “I guess.”

  “I mean, my mom’s a tiger mom, and even at her strictest, I think I got more play than you’re getting now, and you have all the freedom in the world.”

  “Simon, having a jackass for a father isn’t freedom. He doesn’t give two flying fucks what I do with my life as long as I don’t get a woman pregnant or go to jail. To be quite clear, I’m sure he thinks I’m having routine gangbangs at my apartment every night and will be dying of AIDS in the near future.”

  “Isn’t there a pill for AIDS now?” Simon adjusted his bag on his shoulders.

  “Yes, but it’s not the point. The point is, I’d rather a tiger mom any day of the week. My father just thinks throwing money at me is the right thing to do. Throwing money at me and shaming me for what he believes is a choice.”

  “So I take it the summer didn’t go too well, huh?”

  “Bingo. Long days sitting at the estate, even longer dinners littered with carefully asked questions. Let’s see, I think he asked about my studies every single day because heaven forbid he ask about my personal life or my mental health. Luckily, though, he spent most of his time at his firm, so I didn’t have to be around him too much.”

  “How’s the firm doing?”

  “Fine. Better than fine, honestly, judging by what’s deposited in my account every two weeks. I think I’m going to donate it to the local LGBT community center, again.”

  “Or you could save it and pay for some of these classes, so you don’t have to work your ass off.”

  “Definitely going to donate it. I’m not accepting money from some guy who’s still hoping his son wakes up and marries a woman.”

  “Seriously? Suck it up. It’s money. A lot of people don’t even have the funds to go to school and here you are making things complicated for yourself because your dad doesn’t approve of your orientation. You’re being spoiled. Take the money, use it for your education, and send him a giant fuck-you at a later date.”

  “Right. I think I’m going to go to my place and finish unpacking. Thank you for the unnecessary pep talk, yet again. It’s deeply appreciated.”

  “Well, it’s coming from someone who has to work to make ends meet to someone who chooses to work because he’s being petty. I’d take that money so fast your head’ll spin.”

  “Yup.” Roman narrowed his eyes, looking down at his box-toed loafers. “So, how was your summer?”

  “Ah, I thought you’d never ask. It was fantastic, truly. I spent a little time with the fam, but I got this awesome job working as a bartender at this local bar on the beach.” Simon sucked his teeth. “Mnf. Abigail, Brenna, Callie, Diana-I could continue.” He winked.

  “Gross.” Roman laughed. “You’re a slut.”

  “Slut is relative. I just enjoy women. I don’t see the problem with eating pussy for dessert every night on my summer holiday.”

  “You’re edging on that too-much-information territory, dude.”

  “Put it like this. I’m having sex for both of us, since we already know you’re not getting any. I have taken it upon myself to make sure I have enough sex to cover my own needs and yours.”

  “Ah, such a good friend you are.” Roman smirked.

  “Exactly. You should really be thanking me for my selfless efforts.”

  “How should I thank you?”

  “Some beers, at least. A card on holidays,” Simon mused, rubbing his whiskered chin as they reached the asphalt parking lot on the far side of the college campus. “Oh, I know. You could detail my car for me.”

  “This cracker box?” Roman rapped his knuckles on the aluminum side of Simon’s old sedan. The faded two-toned exterior glistened in the sunlight. “I could replace the whole thing with a week’s worth of lunch money.”

  “Well, yeah, because you eat fresh sushi with cold pressed juice every day at that overpriced hipster bar.”

  “I like fresh juice, and it’s supporting local.”

  “It has nothing to do with the chef, then, who gives you a few extra ounces of juice and a few extra pieces of sushi?”

  “The chef is cool.”

  “Oy, man. I’m not well-versed in the mating calls of men, but I’m pretty sure there’s something worth exploring there.”

  “No, I quite like how things are going, actually. I like my free sushi and extra juice.”

  “Yeah,” Simon groaned. “Well, on that note, I’m going to hit up the bar. Have fun back at your place unpacking boxes of junk you don’t even need.” He opened the backseat of his vehicle, gently lifting the handle, and tossed his bag in. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Sure thing.” Roman waved, approaching his own vehicle, a sleek black sports car he received a year ago as a gift. It still put a bad taste in his throat when he sat down on the custom leather interior and twisted the steering wheel. Everything happened after fights, and the vehicle was no different.

  Another argument over whether or not his latest boyfriend could attend the annual company dinner. The answer was no, of course, inspiring a public breakup and a very public family fight. Roman’s mothe
r never would have wanted this for her son. There was door slamming. Maturity at its finest.

  The next evening, his father tossed a set of keys on the counter, grunted, and stalked to his study. The keys belonged to the newest model of the most reliable hybrid sports vehicle on the market, the one Roman was sitting inside. Roman had been single ever since.

  Of course, so had his father. However, his father had been single, aside from the occasional bed warmer, since his mother had passed away seven years ago. Perhaps from wishful thinking or Roman’s distaste for thinking ill of his mother, he remembered them as a mostly happy family. She had been the glue binding them all together, and now it was two men from vastly different sides of the road trying to piece a life together.

  He missed his mother, and he knew his father missed her, too, but it didn’t change their relationship. They didn’t come together on those facts. If anything, it tore them apart more.

  Roman drove to his lavish apartment, paid for in part by money his mother had squirreled away for his future and his own small lending company he had created at the beginning of his first year in college. It started as a fund for students who couldn’t afford their textbooks and had grown into something much more. It covered his bills, and aside from being known as a lender, which sometimes carried a negative connotation, it was an easily maintained part-time job. After tossing his messenger bag inside the door, he ordered a large pepperoni and olive pizza and settled between stacked boxes, slicing them open with a dull box cutter.

  The pizza arrived an hour later, and he handed the delivery boy twenty-five dollars. He kicked the door closed and propped the pizza box beside him. He ate four slices before stopping for a breather and pacing his apartment.

  As he sat back down in front of his project, his cell phone rang. He frowned at the unknown number before answering and putting the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Hi, yes. Is this Roman Green?” a generic, authoritative voice replied.

  “Um, yeah it is. Can I ask who’s calling?”

  “This is Officer Shaw from the Hinds County Police Department. Your father’s been in an accident, and he’s in critical condition.”

  “What?” Roman choked on his words. “W-what kind of accident?”

  “A car accident. He listed you as his emergency contact.”

  “R-right, okay yeah. Um, what hospital is he at? I’m going to-I just-I have to finish what I’m doing here first.” Roman pinched the bridge of his nose, jumping to his feet again and racing around the room. He moved the pizza box from the floor to the counter and dug around his closet for his suitcase as the officer relayed necessary information. He had the hospital name, a room number, and the contact information by the time he’d thrown a collection of clothes in the bag and zipped it.

  “My direct number is-”

  “I-I see it on my phone,” Roman stammered. “T-thanks for calling. Really, Thanks. I just-wow.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  “R-right. Yeah.” Roman shook his head and ended the call, dragging his suitcase through the apartment. He glanced at the pizza box and chewed his bottom lip before stuffing it in his barren refrigerator and exiting his apartment. He turned off the lights and locked the door behind him.

  ***

  The drive home was short, but by the time Roman reached the hospital, the only thing left for him was bad news. The doctor greeted him at the door to his father’s room with a solemn face and a heavy head. Roman nodded before turning the corner into the room. He lingered at the entrance as the smell of blood and death tickled his nose, frozen between running as far away as he could and approaching his father. He was angry and officially alone in this world at the same time.

  And, somehow, all of this was his fault, too. He could have been a better son. If they hadn’t fought so much, maybe things would have been different. Roman chewed his bottom lip as he lifted his chin, peering at his father’s ashen face and sunken eyelids. The warm mahogany had left his skin, leaving a dusty grey behind. Tears welled in his eyes as he stared at his father, as time passed around him, as his legs began to ache from standing and his belly rumbled with hunger. He wiped them away and stepped out of the room, leaning against the wall and inhaling a deep breath.

  “Is everything okay over here?” A young nurse approached Roman, gloves on her hands and a soft smile on her face.

  “Y-yeah. Everything’s fine.” A knot grew in his throat. “Everything’s fine. Thank you.” After another deep breath, he wandered from his father’s room back to his car and drove home with tears creeping to his eyes. He trudged inside his father’s lavish house and collapsed in his childhood bedroom, stretching over the neatly made bed. He dangled his feet over one side and dropped his head over the other side, closing his eyes.

  The next few days blurred together. His father’s lawyer had appeared at his front door the next morning, but Roman turned him away. He didn’t eat, he barely drank, and he let calls from his friends, extended family, and professors go to voicemail.

  Wednesday he felt better. He was less numb, at least, and in dire need of a sense of normalcy. He woke up at the crack of dawn, jumped in the shower, and dug through his father’s emergency files. He grabbed a thick cream folder, his cell phone, and drove to his favorite childhood breakfast place, Satsuma, and ordered a stack of pancakes.

  He placed the file folder on the table next to a blank notepad and called Simon first. He had the most missed calls. Simon answered on the second ring.

  “The fuck are you?”

  “I’m at home. My-my dad passed away Friday night.”

  “Wait, what? Dude, I’m so sorry. You should’ve called me sooner.”

  “I couldn’t.” Roman’s voice cracked, raw from lack of use and heavy emotions.

  “I get it. So, you’re home. What do you need me to do? I can do whatever you need.”

  “Um. Oh, shit. I’m missing class. We have that short essay due Friday.”

  “Don’t worry about class. Class is the least important thing right now. You need to take care of yourself.”

  “Yeah.” Roman scribbled on the clean page of his notepad.

  “Listen, they have a deferment option for when your immediate family gets sick or passes away. I’m going to send you the information. You need to fill it out when you get the chance, all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m going to send it in a few minutes, and I’ll call you a little later, all right? I’m on my way to Professor Honey’s class.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Simon.”

  “No problem. Seriously, take it easy and let me know if I can do anything for you.”

  “I will.” Roman ended the call and opened the stack of information beside him. He thumbed through it, writing down important names and matching them with the missed calls on his phone. He had his father’s lawyer, the firm’s lawyer, and the co-owner of the business as the top missed calls after Simon. He called the family lawyer first for a brief conversation. They scheduled a meeting for the following day. The firm’s lawyer sent him a wealth of information on company clauses should one of the partner’s die an unexpected and untimely death.

  And, last, the co-owner of the business had left him nothing but a few shallow missed calls and a condolences text message. He remembered his father’s business partner. He had joined the business based on credentials six years ago, when his father jumped from depression straight into his work. Levi Myers, at the time, had been in his mid-thirties and had a melting smile perpetually plastered on full, plump lips and effervescent blue eyes.

  When his father had been too busy, Levi had helped him with college applications, with moving into his first small, postage-stamp dorm room, and when he needed a ride to the discount clinic for condoms and an STD test. Levi sat in the room with him and bought him an economy size box of condoms afterwards, too.

  Roman’s summers were always spent simultaneously avoiding his father’s business partner and watching him out of the corner of hi
s eye. With a host of empty space, the majority of their important business meetings were held right in the dining room, or out by the poolside with sweating beers in their hands. When his father traveled on business, Levi kept the house, stopping by, checking the alarm system, and delivering stacks of mail. He checked on Roman, too, ordering all his favorite foods and keeping the refrigerator well-stocked. Some days he cooked, and they chatted about school and business over heavy German meals.

  The only thing Levi didn’t do was the one thing Roman wanted more than anything. Roman wanted Levi on top of him, covering him. He wanted Levi inside of him, and Levi never crossed that boundary, even when Roman threw himself at the older man.

  Roman’s stack of pancakes grew cold as he stared at Levi’s name on his cell phone before he finally called him. At the last second, Levi answered.

  “Hello?” His warm baritone voice dripped through the cell phone.

  “H-hi. It’s Roman.”

  “Oh, hey there. You doing all right?” His voice filled with concern, and Roman’s heart ached, turning over in his chest. Levi’s voice held more concern in those few words than his father’s voice had in his entire life.

  “Honestly? Not really. It’s-all of this is a lot.”

  “I understand,” he paused, “let me know how I can help you.”

  “Um. I have to meet with the funeral director later today and, I don’t know, I’m nervous.”

  “I can go with you.”

  “R-really? Um, please? God, please?”

  “Of course. Anything for the boss’s kid, right?”

  “I’m not a kid anymore, Levi.”

  “Maybe you aren’t, but you’ll always be the boss’s kid to me. I can meet you over at the funeral home. I do have to stop by your house to grab some paperwork for the firm sometime this afternoon, though, but I can work it around your schedule.”