Forbidden Desires

"You're getting married to Anna Lawson whether you like it or not."

"But father, do you even care how I feel!?" Devon asked. "Or at least... what I want!?"

"What you want is irrelevant!" Mr. Hamilton declared, cold and fierce like ice.

"The only thing that matters is what is best for this family!" Mr. Hamilton continued, smashing his hands on the office desk in front of him. "And that is paramount!"

For a minute Devon was dumbfounded. He couldn't bear the thought of getting married to somebody he barely knew. He took in a deep breath with one hand in the pockets of his well tailored Italian suit, the other rubbing his forehead frustratingly, then continued.

"I barely even know her, father." Devon said, this time as calm as a dove. "You have to rethink this."

However, as he spoke, the man in question already had a look of growing unease on his face—the kind that tells you that the listener wasn't prepared to listen to whatever you had to say to him at the moment.

Devon saw this, but pressed on regardless. If there was a chance no matter how slim it was, that he could convince the man before him, he had to take it. Maybe—just maybe, his father would listen to reasons. He was screaming as loud as he could from within, but his father seemed deaf to it.

"Surely, you can't just marry me off to someone I've met just once." Devon pestered, feeling the need to stretch the last word. "Just once, father!"

"You will get to know her... eventually."

"But father—"

"I will hear no more of this nonsense, Devon!" Mr. Hamilton ordered furiously. "The decision has been made and that is final!"

"Now... leave!" He said pointing to the door of his luxurious office.

Agitated Devon left his father's office, banging the door on his way out.

It has always been like this. He thought as he walked out through the lobby. There has never been a time, when he stopped to think about how he felt. Or at least, would feel.

Not when he was a kid or still a teenager. Most of all, not now. He was an adult now—26 years of age to be precise. But it still felt like he was on a leash.

He had no control over how things went—choice of school, career, friends he kept, and now marital life. It felt like his entire life was controlled by his father, and he was the puppet.

"Good evening sir, there are some paperwork's waiting to be signed on your desk. Should I get over them or just...?" A beautiful young lady in her mid twenties informed as she saw Devon approaching.

"Sorry, Miriam. This isn't a good time." Devon replied as he walked past her.

"Ok..." Miriam said in a whisper-like tone. For some seconds, she stood there wondering what must've caused Devon's agitation. However, when she turned round to the direction he came from and saw Mr. Hamilton's office, she quickly understood. She watched as Devon got into the elevator, full of frustration as the doors closed behind him.

"Ughh!!!" Devon screamed immediately the elevator doors were closed. Why do I always have to go through all this, why? Why does he have to be so difficult, just why!?

He took a look at the Vacheron Constantin wristwatch he had on his left hand, and the time displayed five fifteen.

"Fifteen minutes past five," he muttered, eyes closed.

He had planned on doing some important things today after work, but seemingly his evening was ruined already. What should he do? He pondered.

Go home in this state? He thought. No! He couldn't.

He needed to take his mind of this... depressing matter. He needed to clear his mind.

He looked at the floor indicator for confirmation, then an idea came surging through his mind. Right now, he was headed to the parking garage.

Yes! He would go partying tonight. He needed to get wasted, to get away from the confinements of being an only child. To get away from his father—at least, for the time being.

Devon Hamilton, was the only child of Mr. Benjamin Hamilton, one of New York City's successful businessmen. As a result he has always faced restrictions.

Getting inside the car, he drove it to the nearest VIP Bars in the town and stopped in front of it. Having a VIP entry, he had the easiest access to the bar despite it being a busy weekend.

Tonight, he wanted to be free and comfortable. And he would do just that. The atmosphere in the bar tonight was very accommodating, one that was befitting of his current mood.

He went straight to the pub area and sat on on of the stools by the counter, placing his mobile phone on the counter as he did.

"Good evening. I'll have a Vieux Carré, please. Make it a double, with a dash of absinthe."

"Excellent choice. Would you prefer it served in a rocks glass or a coupe?" The bartender, a middle-aged man, inquired.

Just then, his phone vibrated.

"Rocks, please." Devon replied, then bent to look at his phone screen. It was a text message, from none other person but his father. "And add a splash of soda water." He said again, before turning his attention to the phone in front of him.

"Coming right up." The bartender replied as he started his mixture. "Would you like to pair it with something to eat?"

"Just the drink for now, thank you." Devon replied.

Devon glanced through his mobile phone again. The text message from his father read; "Where are you, Devon??"

For a few seconds he pondered on what to do. Reply... or just ignore it totally. Just then, the bartender came.

"Here's your order, lad." He said as he placed a glass in front of Devon. "Enjoy your evening."

Devon picked up the drink, took in a gulp, then dropped it back on the counter. Still staring at the message before him, he clicked the reply icon but then stopped in his tracks.

"Not today, father." He said, as he drew down the notification bar and clicked on the Do-not-disturb icon. Before turning off the phone, and placing it back on the counter.

Tonight, he answered to no one but himself.

With that, he picked up his drink and gulped down it's entire content.

Glass by glass, he gulped, emptying every last drop of alcohol in them. Soon, he was dancing, clapping—he was indeed having the best time of his life.

As the alcohol coursed through his veins, he climbed onto a center table, his eyes gleaming with reckless abandon. "Drinks are on me, everyone!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the crowded bar. The patrons erupted into cheers, whistles, and applause, their faces lighting up with excitement.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and concern etched on his face. "Alright, buddy, let's make sure you can cover this," he said with a chuckle.

Devon grinned, unfazed. "I've got it covered," he said, waving his wallet in the air. "Pour 'em all around!"

The bar erupted into a frenzy of clinking glasses, laughter, and music, while Devon stood atop the table, basking in the attention, his generosity and confidence infectious.

That was when he saw him. Amidst the cheers, the noise and flashing lights, Devon noticed him.

A stranger watching him from across the room. He was... just too sexy, with a face too irresistible. He just couldn't resist the urge of walking up to this man, and kissing those lips of his.

Being an overly protected child, Devon, wanted to do something out of the ordinary for once in his life.

And so, with profound confidence, he pushed through the crowd, walked up to this stranger....

...and kissed him right on the lips.