by Tara Brent
My Forbidden Date
Tara Brent
Published by Tara Brent, 2021.
Copyright 2020 by Tara Brent - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
A special ‘thank you’ to my two wonderful beta readers, Renee and Darcy. I am so grateful for the time and effort you devoted to this book. ☺
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Maya
Nope, lift up your chin, Maya. You’re not searching for scraps or looking for a handout. You’re a businesswoman here on serious business. Walk proud. The Clocktower is a high-end residence in the historic business district in Bridgetown, New York. In an industrial city that narrowly escaped urban plight, it isn’t too difficult to have the top honors as the most exclusive residential property. I doubt it could outshine a brownstone on the West Side of Manhattan but my knees still shake as I approach the double glass door. Entering the nine-story brick building on Waterway Avenue, my jaw tightens with apprehension.
The only reason I’m here bright and early is to ask the sexiest man I’ve ever met for a personal favor. I went to school at NYU and worked a year in Midtown. I’ve seen a lot of handsome men and dated a few.
“Miss, may I help you?” One of the security guards smiles as I walk toward a long desk that blocks access to the floors beyond it. No one can enter The Clocktower without being seen and most people do want to be spotted at the costly address in town.
I clear my throat but my voice cracks like I don’t know why I’m here. “I’m here to see Jackson Hudson. Please.”
The guard is a young woman, probably close to my age at twenty-five, with her light brown hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail. “Your name, please,” she asks.
“Maya.” I stand up straight as I answer in a firm voice. “Maya Stewart.”
Her gaze passes over my body quickly and then flicks across a clipboard tucked underneath the counter raised above the desk. She smirks while picking up the desk phone. Obviously, my name isn’t on the list. I failed the first hurdle, and wonder if she’s going to make me sit down to wait in the small seating area. I glance over at the hipster gray couches and glass coffee tables arranged in an awkward semi-circle as if the guards are about to throw a party for uninvited guests. But the conversation is brief as she watches me with a blank expression.
“Okay, Ms. Stewart.” She replaces the receiver. “It’s the private elevator down at the end of Atrium Four.” She points toward a roped off hallway at the end of the lobby. Could it be any more pretentious? Who the fuck has a private elevator in Bridgetown? Jackson Hudson, of course.
“Thank you.” I smile as if it hurts me and glance at her name badge. “Thank you, Grace.”
“You’re welcome.” Grace gives me a look that is hard to interpret, and then glances over at the older man behind the desk. The two guards exchange a knowing look. They need to take those thoughts out of the sewer. I’m here on business and nothing else.
My heels click across the polished floor as I walk in a straight line toward the brightly lit hallway. The hem of my short dress rises up above my knees and I wish I had worn jeans. I tug at the hem as I walk to Atrium Four. This is stupid. It’s a hallway, so call it a hallway.
I’ve known Jackson Hudson for longer than he’s lived in this pretentious place. I’ve known him since I was five. I knew him when he was scrawny with pimples. And he knew me when I used to suck my thumb. He may have even seen my diapers changed a few times on the kitchen floor.
But that was decades ago when he was just my brother’s wise-mouth best friend. Now, he’s rich and gorgeous—Jackson cleaned up nicely. Just like this once rundown building. Tall, dark, and handsome has been upgraded into the super deluxe form of Jackson Hudson.
This is so stupid. He’ll help me out. Sighing, I brush my wavy hair off my neck. He’s just my brother’s sexy best friend I keep reminding myself. I don’t need to impress Jackson. But I want to. We’re not kids anymore, and I want him to see me as an adult. No, as a woman. He thinks of every other woman over the age of 21 as a woman who wants a man. Why not me?
The elevator chimes, and I take in a deep breath. But before I can put my best foot forward, I quickly step back as I almost collide with a woman exiting. A blonde walks off the elevator looking like she hasn’t been home since last night. Her long hair is a messy halo of tangled curls. Her eye makeup is faded but her eyes sparkle as she looks up toward the heavens. My skirt compared to hers looks matronly, and I stop tugging at the hem. There’s a smile of satisfaction stretching her lips until she sees me gawking at her. The blonde abruptly ends her moment of bliss as her face hardens into a disgusted scowl. She tilts her head to the side as if she considers me a threat. The blonde looks me up and down harder than the pretty security guard. She stands purposely in front of the elevator door, blocking my way.
“Are you looking for Jackson?” she interrogates me as if she should.
I stare at her without answering her nosey question. She steps closer as if she’s daring me to say yes. My shoulders square off and I clench my fists. Only because that’s the vibe I’m getting off of her. I grew up with three brothers and can take her down with one well-aimed jab. Maybe? I want to say something rude about the button torn off her crumpled blouse but I swallow my snarky attitude instead. What if they’re in a committed relationship? I stop myself from rolling my eyes.
“I’m here for business advice,” I reply calmly, “I’m a friend of Jackson’s business partner.” I default to polite mode and wait.
But she’s not budging as the elevator door slowly closes behind her. Maybe I should shout for Grace the guard and give her some actual excitement today. I sigh. I’d love to have a catfight at nine in the morning with a woman I just met over a man who barely remembers I exist but I’ve got a business to run.
“He’s my brother’s friend,” I explain.
The flashing eyes stop as kitty puts her claws away. Maybe, I should be offended. Don’t I look like competition anymore?
“Nice to meet you,” the blonde smiles as if she’s just made a bestie. I can smell last night’s perfume on her exposed cleavage mixed with sweat. She stands a little closer. “Remind him to call Sable,” she giggles.
I blink. “Like the brush?”
She nods. “I’m always on the main stage Friday nights.”
My eyebrows rise up before I can stop them. And she’s frowning again. As the doors open again, I pivot past her as if we’re on the basketball court underneath the net, and swiftly, I step inside. “Nice meeting you.” I hold my hands down at my sides. It’s unlikely she wants to shake on it.
“Sable,” she glares as she enunciates her name loudly so I’ll remember it.
“Sure,�
�� I grin, “rhymes with table.” Like the ones you dance on.
She cuts her eyes at me as if she’s a mind reader and then turns on her heels taking off down the hallway.
Why am I thinking like a snob? Because that’s the type of woman Jackson wants—fun, bouncy, and easy like a plastic ball. I let out a breath that makes my shoulders sag as I wait for the doors to close. There’s no button to push on the inside wall, just a light where it should be, so I get off and the door closes behind me. I’m standing in the atrium again. I’m going to have to walk back to reception and ask nicely for help because I don’t know how to ride the elevator.
I grip my hands into hard fists as I let out a low growl of frustration. I feel like shouting down the hallway, “I’m not fucking him, ladies. My brother won’t let me.”
Security has to be watching me from their desk. I look up at the ceiling for a small mirrored dome, and seeing one, I point to the closed elevator doors. It starts to open when I hear a familiar voice from the end of the hallway.
“Maya, what are you doing here?”
My older brother Vince is coming up the hallway like an avenging angel ready to guard my virginity with a wicked glare. He’s five years too late but doesn’t need to know that. His gaze is fixed on me and that heated look reminds me of the time when I broke his Xbox. I apologized for a year straight. Will he ever forget? His narrowed gaze travels down to my bare legs as his jaw tightens until it clicks.
“What are you wearing?” he asks in a reprimanding tone.
“Good morning, Vince,” I reply calmly. “And what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” he asks, wide-eyed, then stops in his tracks. “Wait. Are you coming or going?”
I roll my eyes as if I’m imitating the earth circling the sun. This is the worst, to be accused of doing something naughty when the person I want to do it with doesn’t want me because he’s too busy banging Sable who likes to dance on tables.
“How dare you,” I fuss at him. “I’m here to see Jackson. And it’s none of your business.”
He ignores most of what I say. “What for? Does he know you’re here?”
My hands fly to my hips. “I run a business, and it’s for my business. The desk called him, and no, I’m going up, not going down.”
Vince looks startled at my choice of words. He stares at me debating if I know what I’ve just said. He shakes his head as if he’s assuring himself that I’m clueless. According to him, sex is something other people do. He believes that when people say they’re sleeping together, I think they’re just getting a good night’s sleep in the same bed.
“What about business?” he asks, “I can help you with that.”
Fuck. My face heats up before my brain can send it the order to stay cool. I have no intention of telling my brother about my latest business scheme for my dating app. Oh the irony. A year ago, I launched a top-ranking dating app, and my brother thinks I should stay home until I’m engaged to the man of his choice. Suddenly, I’m thirteen again, and he’s caught me in his room with my twin brother Max peeking at the naked lady in his hidden magazines.
My gaze is stuck on the ground as I answer him. “It’s uhm, it’s something, you know. Private.”
Finally, my gaze detaches from the floor and I look up into my brother’s eyes. Vince’s expression is a cross between accusing and protective. He has that look nailed down from decades of practice. He’s perfected an expression that makes me feel like I’ve done the worst possible thing before I could even imagine it.
“I’m not here for sex,” I blurt out. “I meant to wear jeans.”
“Excuse me.” Grace from reception stands at the end of the hallway with a smirk on her face looking at me. “Can I be of any help?” Her smirk lifts into a full-on smile when Vince turns around to face her. “Hello, Mr. Stewart. How can I help you today?” She takes a few steps forward as she tilts her head to the side.
It’s been a while since Vince had a serious girlfriend. At least two years since Trisha. For a brief time, we were hopeful he would focus on himself and not on controlling his weary siblings’ lives. Vince puffs out his chest like a rooster about to strut across the farmyard for the hens.
“Hello, Grace.” He stretches out his hand to shake hers. “How are you today?”
She beams as if he blessed her with gold. Hand touching is a big deal to my brother. It’s almost a proposal. “Very well,” she eyes me. “The usual today.”
Vince chuckles lightheartedly, and waves in my direction. “Oh, that’s my little sister.” He pulls me over into a smothering side hug.
Grace smiles adoringly as if Vince is onstage winning brother of the year for saving innocent me from sullying myself with Jackson Hudson. “Oh, that’s so sweet,” she coos, “I didn’t know you had a little sister.”
“Yes, Mayo here is my kid sister.” He smiles. “I’m the oldest.”
“It’s Maya and I’m here for business.” I shake Vince’s engulfing hug off of me. Now, I feel like I’m four again on that day I peed myself because I was allowed a whole popsicle and didn’t have to share it.
Vince shakes his head. “You don’t need to bother Jackson for business advice. Besides, he’s probably still in bed.”
I grimace as Vince pulls me by the wrist back down the hallway. His grip is tight and if I were to yank my hand out of his, he’d probably chase me down the way he did when I was six and wanted to get closer to the lion pit at the zoo.
“You’re probably right, Mr. Stewart.”
“You can call me Vince, Grace.”
She giggles and bats her eyelashes. I can’t believe this. My older brother is flirting with a woman while he holds tightly onto my hand. I pry my hand out of his. That got his attention as Vince turns to look at me but soon he’s looking away as another player comes on the scene.
“Excuse me.” A tall brunette carrying a collapsible massage table stands by Grace. This woman is a head-turner with long legs in platform shoes and a pair of white shorts that show them off to the world. I’m too amazed to be envious. “I’m here for Jackson’s appointment.”
Grace smiles at the newcomer. “Sure go on up, Brandi. He’s free now.”
She enters the elevator, and the doors close. Okay, that was a dis, and I guess I’ve been dismissed. We walk toward the glass doors to exit. I glare at Vince as he watches Grace walk back to her desk. He needs to just ask her the fuck out.
Once outside in the cool spring air, I poke his chest hard with my nail. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hiss. “Are you hanging out just in case I showed up?”
“I had business here today, too.” We walk to the parking lot next door and I get into my car as he watches me. “Maya, when you need help with your business. You ask me first. Don’t bother Jackson.”
***
“How did it go?” Tiffany races from her desk toward me as I open the office door. “What did Jackson think of our scheme?”
I sigh as I push the door shut. I can’t look Tiffany in the eye until I’m seated safely behind my desk. We rent an office space in the downtown historic district near the river. It’s a mile away from the trendier area in a scary-safe neighborhood dubbed Fishtown. The open-air fish markets at the nearby seaport are old memories, but luckily, easy access to the city gave Bridgetown a reprieve while tech companies started filling up the old red brick buildings. We get a discount on our space thanks to Jackson and Vince’s real estate firm.
I shrug in defeat. “I didn’t get to see him.”
Her mouth forms a perfect O. “I thought you said you were close. I showed you his picture in the paper, and you said you knew that guy. Didn’t I remember him from your college graduation?”
“I do know him, but my brother showed up,” I explain.
Oblivious, Tiffany continues to gawk at me. She’s an only child and doesn’t understand how hard it is for an adult woman to be considered a grown-up in a family of men. It doesn’t matter that I do my equal share of payin
g the bills and yardwork. The minute I do something that meets with disapproval, I’m yanked away and scolded out of earshot.
I drum my index finger on my desk. “You can’t expect me to pitch our idea while my brother stands there listening.”
“It’s not like you were explaining how sex works,” Tiffany replies dryly, “You were asking him to help us out with the dating app.”
“Vince isn’t cool like that,” I reply. “The man only dates when he’s serious, and since no one should be serious on the first date, he rarely dates. A conversation about dating for the sake of it would’ve been impossible to have in front of him.”
She shrugs. “I guess you have a point.”
“You guess?” I squawk. I get up and pretend to speak to an imaginary Jackson while Vince watches. “Hello, Jackson, would you do a publicity stunt for our dating app and date thirty women in a month. That sound? Ignore it. It’s my brother tearing out his hair because his baby sister wants to pimp out his best friend.”
Tiffany throws back her head and laughs. “Yeah, I would’ve made a U-turn on that plan too.”
That’s when Tiff looks her prettiest when she’s smiling. Her amazing spiral curls shake as she sits down at her desk. She also has a kicking bod, and it’s no wonder a ton of men signed up when she uploaded her profile. She dated a few for research until we perfected the app.
“Don’t you have his number?” she asks, sipping her tea as she scrolls through her screen.
“I do,” I reply, “I may have had a setback but I’m not defeated. But I didn’t want to discuss our plan on the phone with him.”
“You may have to if your brother is going to show up every time you try to see him,” she replies. “Does he wait in his car for you to show up?”
“He might,” I laugh. “It seems he has the hots for the security guard. She’s pretty in a no-nonsense efficient way.”
Tiff shifts in her seat and stares harder at the screen. “She must be pretty then.”
Fuck. I forgot Tiffany thinks Vince was hot. They met for the first time when we were rooming together at college. Tiffany was a cheerful freshman from Ohio that wanted to work in broadcast journalism on the East Coast. Petite and stacked, she has a striking presence with brown bedroom eyes and thick spirally hair.
