Forbidden Paradise

Forbidden Paradise

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance



Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance




Paige Drake, Long Island socialite, is way out of Eddie Morgan's league, but when he saves her from her abusive boyfriend he sees another side of her. Softer, vulnerable and with a few secrets of her own
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Paige Drake, Long Island socialite, is way out of Eddie Morgan's league, but when he saves her from her abusive boyfriend he sees another side of her. Softer, vulnerable and with a few secrets of her own

Chapter1 (v.1) - Paradise Found

Author Chapter Note

Very rough draft....Looking for all comments and suggestions....Thanks....Denise

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 26, 2017

Reads: 31

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 26, 2017



A large dose of fantasy, and a hint of desperation defined Beyond Paradise, Manhattan, the sixty thousand square foot club that had altered Eddie Morgan’s life. 

Like a prince surveying his kingdom, Eddie zoned in on the rich Wall Street financiers, and even richer Hollywood execs. Guys on the make, and girls dressed to impress. They all came to see and be seen.

Adam, the head bartender, leaned over the main bar. “You okay, Mr. Morgan?”

“Yeah, fine.” Eddie sipped at the Pepsi he’d been nursing.

He’d never get used to being called Mr. Morgan, or the way customers jockeyed for his attention.  He missed the old club, and the exhilaration and recklessness that came with breaking the rules. Now, he and his long-time friend Jonny Vallone, owned a business inside the law with regulations, taxes and more fuckin’ paperwork than Eddie ever imagined. 

Page 6 loved to label him as the blonde and brooding thirty year old who resembled a Harley riding biker, not the owner of one of the hottest clubs in New York City. But Eddie didn’t let it suck him in, because success like poverty had its price, and falling down that dangerous rabbit hole left you wide open.

His headset buzzed, and he listened to Jason, their head of security. Trouble in the VIP room. Always on a Thursday, and always a half hour before he wanted to cut out and indulge himself in the one thing that kept his head straight.

Jason, a hulking ex-military man with the mind of a strategic warrior, surpassed Eddie’s height of six three and executed his job with a deadly calm. He remembered faces, names, and dates while keeping control of  every situation.  

“What have we got?” Eddie asked as they climbed the to the Empire Room.

“Usual pissing contest.” Jason shrugged. “Probably over a woman.” 

Eddie nodded as he hopped the stairs two at a time. He could’ve let the high priced security team deal with the asshole, but there were some trust fund brats partying with them tonight, and he didn’t need the son or daughter of some senator or society A-lister getting roughed up.

A few more loping strides put him behind a guy in a pair of crisp khaki pants and a striped golf shirt.  

Eddie expected Preppy’s opponent to be another privileged fuck up, not Paige Drake plastered against the wall with a trickle of blood seeping from her lip. Wait till Jonny heard about this one.

“Back off.” Jason stepped in between Paige and the rich jerk.

“She won’t stop bitchin’ at me,” Preppy slurred as he pointed at Paige. “Keeps telling me I’ve had too much to drink.”

The five other guys in the group clustered around their buddy hoping for some excitement, while the girls hovered around Paige blotting napkins against her split lip.

Eddie motioned to one of the hostesses. “Take her to the ladies room and get her cleaned up.” The tall brunette nodded and Eddie added, “Make her your new best friend.”

Kissing up to Paige Drake and smoothing things over was the price of doing business. Charles and Peter Drake, Paige’s grandfather and father owned a shitload of real estate and business enterprises all over the world, but they considered New York their home, and the famous patriarch could turn this into a publicity nightmare.

“We don’t want any trouble," Jason reasoned. "So I’m asking you to leave.”

“What?” Preppy swayed. “We paid for this space and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Let’s take it easy.” Jason placed his hand on Preppy’s shoulder and attempted to lead him away from the area, but he jerked away, grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it against the granite bar. Glass shattered, women screamed, and Jason called into his headset for back-up. 

Eddie moved in from behind just as he swung the broken bottle, ripping Eddie’s t-shirt and grazing the flesh of his abdomen. Eddie lunged, and twisted the spoiled brats hand into an unnatural position. The bottle clattered to the floor seconds before Eddie shoved him face-first into the granite bar. The hollow sound of his head hitting the hard stone filled Eddie with satisfaction.

“You made a huge mistake, asshole,” Eddie growled. “Hitting women and breaking shit don’t go in my club.”

Bouncers flooded the area, while the group slinked away from their friend. 

Jason appeared at Eddie’s side. “Ease up. I got this.”

Eddie yanked him around, held his gaze for another few seconds, then shoved him toward Jason. “Get him outta here.”

Preppy stumbled off, rubbing the side of his face and whimpering as the rest of his group trailed behind him.

Eddie glanced at his torn shirt and mumbled a curse. Stupid fucker sliced his favorite Rolling Stones t-shirt.

Jason and two other bouncers escorted the rich pricks down the rear elevators to avoid anymore drama. Policy dictated that the bouncers would keep their hands off him in the club, but if the moneyed fuck so much as sneezed those guys would be on him the minute they got him outside. 

That thought made Eddie smile, but he seemed like the wimpy type who already put a call in to Daddy crying.

Eddie checked the time on his phone again and frowned. Now, he’d have to waste time filling out a report. In their old Brooklyn club, that jerk would’ve been handled with a baseball bat and a roll of duct tape, but now everything had to be nice and legal. 

Ten minutes later, he stood from the computer in his office, pulled off his ripped t-shirt, and pitched it onto a nearby chair as he headed to the closet across the room. He shook his head in disgust when he noticed a thin line of blood along his abdomen from the jagged bottle. 

Leaning in the closet to grab another t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he heard the office door open, and assumed it was Jason. “Is the rich prick on his way home to Mommy and Daddy.”

“Well Daddy at least.” A female voice responded. “Mommy left years ago.” 

He straightened and turned to face her. “Jonny’s not here.”

Paige Drake was Jonny’s headache. The privileged Long Island rich girl that he insisted had a good side. Granted her intervention had gotten variances waived for the club, but Eddie still didn’t trust her.

Mostly because she screamed perfection. Perfect designer clothes, perfect cut and colored auburn  hair, and a perfect clipped snobby voice that made Eddie perfectly uncomfortable. She had already managed to clean up her cut lip, and cover it with makeup. Perfect. 

“I know.” She entered the office like she owned it. “Thursday’s his night off.”

“So?” Eddie extended his arms.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m . . .”

“Sorry your boyfriend’s an asshole.”

“Westley can be a jerk sometimes and . . .”

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. Westley?” Eddie laughed. “Are people really named that?”

“On the Gold Coast they are.”

He motioned to her face. “How’s the lip?”

“It’s just a small cut.” She shrugged. “He had a ring on and . . .”

Eddie held up his right hand and flashed the rings on his thumb, index finger and middle finger. “That’s why he shouldn’t be slapping women around.”

“He’s not usually like that. When he drinks . . .”

“Right, the asshole gene comes out.” He motioned to the cut across his abs. “I get it.”

Her eyes traveled down his bare chest, landed at the dried blood above his low slung jeans, and lingered.

“You like my dragon?” He smirked.

Paige’s cheeks flushed, and her eyes widened. “What?”

“My dragon.” Eddie pointed to the intricate tattoo inked across his lower abs.

“Yes—quite impressive.”  

“I’ll bet Westley doesn’t have anything half as big.”

Her lips quirked with amusment.

His eyes darted to the clock over his desk. After midnight, now he’d have to listen to Joker bitching about him being late.

 “As much as I like you admiring my dragon.” He toed off his engineer boots. “I gotta change and get going.”

“I wasn’t looking at your . . .”

“Don’t worry I’m used to it.”

Paige sucked in a breath. “Hot date?” She motioned to the faded grey sweats he held in his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re wearing those?”

“What are you? The fashion police?”

“If I were, you’d be on death row,” she said. “Do you own anything that doesn’t have holes?”

“I did.” He pointed to his t-shirt crumpled on the chair. “My favorite Stones t-shirt.”

“I am sorry about that.” 

“I’m gonna strip off.” He undid the button of his jeans. “So unless you wanna see how long my dragon is, I suggest you leave, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, Princess.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re very rude?”

“Constantly.” He held eye contact, and yanked down his zipper.

© Copyright 2017 denisef. All rights reserved.

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