Page 2 of Taboo
It’s old money, the kind that makes you feel small. When I first arrived, I pegged Amelia as the princess of this palace, a pampered brat who’d never even glance my way. But then I saw her—really saw her. Her quick laugh, her gentle teasing, the wayshe humbles herself to make others shine. She’s not just kind; she’s generous and caring in a way that pulls you in.
And I fell hard, despite every warning I gave myself.
I knew I was playing with fire. She is the daughter of a very rich and powerful man, and I’m a nobody, the housekeeper’s kid crashing in the servants’ quarters for the summer. I told myself to keep my distance, but when she kissed me, her lips soft and hungry, I was done for.
Now, as we near the library, my chest aches with the fear that it’s all about to implode. Amelia’s been careless—her giggles in the kitchen, the way she brushes against me when she thinks no one’s watching. The staff talk, and her father’s got eyes everywhere. His worry is not baseless.
I am hopelessly in love with his daughter and intend to make her mine.
My boots feel leaden. Amelia’s steps falter, and I can’t stand it anymore—the distance, the pretense. If this is the end, I need something real to hold onto. I’ve always kept us hidden, but right now, I almost don’t care who sees. I reach for her hand, my fingers curling around hers, and the warmth of her skin hits me like a shot. Her eyes flick to our joined hands, then to me. A quiet smile curves her lips, soft and trusting, and it’s a knife to my heart.
We stop at the study door, its carved surface looming like a warning. Amelia knocks, her knuckles barely making a sound, and Mr. Fitzwilliam’s voice rumbles through.
“Come in.”
The door swings open, revealing a room of dark paneling and leather-bound books, and lit by a single lamp that casts long shadows. The air is thick with the scent of wax and old wood. Her father is settled behind his desk, solid and unyielding, and his hair stark against his pale face. His frown is deeper than usual, etching lines that make him look older, harsher.
I step as far away from Amelia as I can without it looking awkward, but it is crucial in this moment to keep space between us. If this isn’t about us, then I most definitely do not intend to tip him off. Not yet. I have big plans. One day, he will be proud to have me as a son-in-law.
Amelia offers a tight smile, and her posture and manner are stiff and awkward.
John’s eyes sweep over us, sharp and unreadable, before he comes straight to the point. “Max, have you ever met your father?”
The question catches me off guard, and my mind starts racing with confusion. Why the hell is he asking about my father? Mom never speaks of him, and the one time I asked, she told me it was a one-night thing while she was on holiday in Mexico. For one crazy instant, a flicker of relief sparks in my chest—maybe this isn’t about Amelia and me after all. Then suspicion tightens my chest like a vice. What’s his angle?
“No, sir,” I say slowly.
He exhales slowly, and his gaze becomes heavy with something like regret. “I hoped I’d never have to say this, but your… involvement with my daughter forces my hand. For both your sakes, I can’t stay silent.”
Both Amelia and I glance at each other, as dread surges back. The air seems to turn cold. Even the room feels like it is shrinking around us. I step forward, words spilling out before I can stop them. I try not to jump the gun, but at that moment, sheer panic takes over. It’s either fight or flight, and I’m fighting. With everything I’ve got.
“Sir, I know I’m not what you’d choose for Amelia. My background is nothing. But I’ll work harder than anyone to deserve her. I swear it. Just... Please, give me a chance.”
John’s eyes narrow, shifting to Amelia, then back to me. “This isn’t about your background, Max. Not entirely, at least.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my tone sharp, frustration bleeding through.
He leans forward, his hands braced on the desk. “Years ago, I made a painful choice, and it has returned to haunt me. Your mother and I agreed to keep our secret buried, for everyone’s good. But now, I see no other way.” He pauses, the silence suffocating. “You can’t be together. This relationship should never have started. I should’ve seen it sooner. It’s an abomination.”
Amelia’s voice cuts through, trembling but fierce. “An abomination? What are you talking about?”
My heart is pounding as my eyes find hers for a split second, her fear mirroring mine. We both know now that whatever he’s about to say, it’s worse than my lack of status. We turn back to him, bracing for the impact.
He stands, and his voice is flat, final as he sticks the blade straight into my beating heart.
“Max, you’ve never met your father because I am your father.”
The words slam into me, stealing my breath. The room tilts. His face blurs as my mind reels.
Amelia gasps. “You’re... you're lying. It’s not true.” Her voice cracks with desperation and horror, but I’m mute, shock locking my throat. This can’t be real. It’s impossible.
John presses on, clinical and cold. “It was a mistake, years ago, with your mother. She told me about you later, so I made sure you always had what you needed. When she asked if you could stay here, I thought it’d be a chance to get to know you, quietly. I never imagined the two of you would get involved.”
Amelia is shaking. “So you’re saying Max is my half-brother?” Her voice is so small, she sounds like a child.
“Yes,” John says, unflinching. “He is your half-brother. So this thing between you ends now.”
“Why?” Amelia’s voice trembles. “Why didn’t you tell us? How could you let us?—”
