Secret Obsession: House of Morgan Prequel

Secret Obsession: House of Morgan Prequel

By Victoria Pinder

Publisher: Love in a Book

The House of Morgan

Book 1 of the Peter and Jennifer trilogy

Releases September 29, 2026. Preorder now.

His father paid fifty thousand dollars to put her on that yacht, and Peter Morgan agreed to ruin her before he ever saw her cross the deck.

Corrupt the beautiful thing. Keep her close. Keep the Morgan line coming.

Jennifer Gonzales walks on board knowing exactly what her mother sold. She has wanted Peter since she was sixteen, watching him from behind a book at his family’s pool while his sister called her a best friend. Victoria is gone now. The auditions end at Jennifer’s measurements. And the contract Mitch Morgan slides across his desk is not an acting contract at all. It is a life, signed away for her mother’s debts, a comfortable prison with gold bars.

She signs it anyway. Not for the roles. Not for the money. She signs because she found something in Peter worth saving, and because no one has ever let her choose anything for herself.

Peter signed for the opposite reason. She is the one thing in his father’s empire he wants to keep, and wanting her is the first move his father did not script.

Then the house closes around her. Guards inside the door. A car she is not supposed to drive alone. A man who calls it protection every time he decides something without asking. Jennifer came to save Peter Morgan from what his father built. Now she has to find out whether the woman under the face is worth saving too, and whether either of them can be someone their parents did not choose.

Secret Obsession is the House of Morgan prequel and book one of the Peter and Jennifer trilogy. It is the only book where Mitch Morgan walks on the page. Their happy ending belongs to this trilogy. It does not arrive here.

Read Chapter 1

I leaned against the railing of my yacht, a 120-foot beauty named the Catalina that glided through the dark waters with ease. The Miami skyline behind me was alive with neon lights, casting eerie reflections on the waves below. Across the deck, I spot her. Jennifer Gonzales. Her billowy white summer dress danced in the wind.

She didn’t know I was watching, which is a good thing, as I’m unable to tear my eyes away from her. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, but she still looked ethereal to me. I took another sip of expensive whiskey and reminded myself that observation is power in this city of golden dreams and tarnished souls.

With a subtle nod to my crew, I turned away from Jennifer and studied the opulent interior of the Catalina; the polished teak floors, the gleaming chrome fixtures, the lavish furnishings all bought with money that would have made my younger self shudder because of my father’s dark origins. But those days are long gone. Now, pieces fall into place as I cement my own power and control over my future, providing a quiet thrill.

The posh Miami yacht party buzzed with the scent of expensive perfume and the glint of designer jewelry. Cartier watches gleamed under the moonlight, while Hermès ties hung loose, hinting at the promise of scandalous indulgence. These people thought they were gods. I had built enough of them and unbuilt enough of them to price the illusion to the dollar. Divinity was just a matter of leverage, and tonight the leverage sat in my pocket. I held all the cards.

I took a slow sip of my Macallan 25, savoring the smoky notes and delicate sweetness on my tongue. I scanned the crowd, watching Jennifer expertly work her way through the elite guests. She had a natural grace that couldn’t be taught, effortlessly navigating the complex social currents. Her laugh carried across the deck at something Bradley Chen said, Bradley, who foolishly believed his tech startup would revolutionize AI. Little did he know that next week, his servers would mysteriously crash, and his backup data would vanish. Just another pawn in this game of life.

I swirled the ice in my glass, catching glimpses of light from the hidden LEDs on the deck, as memories flooded back to me. I remembered when I first encountered Jennifer, a sweet twelve-year-old sleeping over at our house as Victoria’s best friend and constant shadow. Even then, there was something about her. She held an ethereal innocence that made you want to either protect or destroy it. My sister, Victoria, had chose protection. Now I chose destruction.

My father’s cologne reached me before he did, a cloud of ambition and designer label. He appeared at my side in his all-black attire, looking like he’s attending a funeral instead of a party. Maybe he is, in a way. Tonight was the death of Jennifer’s innocence orchestrated by her own mother’s greed and my father’s need to control me.

"I must say, she’s quite impressive." I let a hint of appreciation seep into my voice. Mitch thought he was pulling all the strings, that this whole scheme was his idea. Fine by me. It’s easier to control someone who believes they’re in charge.

"Better than expected," Mitch said with a sharp smile that could draw blood. "Did you know she’s been taking method acting classes? Really throwing herself into the craft." He laughed, the sound hollow and devoid of any real joy. "Method acting. As if it makes a difference in this town."

Jennifer made her way towards us in a white dress that stood out against the manufactured twilight of the deck’s mood lighting. She looked different from when I last saw her, thinner, with sharper cheekbones and a hint of desperation shining in her eyes. The kind of hunger that makes people grab onto any hand that offers help, even if that hand holds a knife.

"Your sister always saw potential in her," Mitch continued, knowing exactly how to twist the blade. "Victoria had such… faith in people, didn’t she? Believed in their inherent goodness." His words made my stomach churn, both from disgust and guilt for playing along with this cruel game.

The mere mention of Victoria’s name used to bring me pain, but I’d learned to channel that pain into power. As my eyes swept over the luxurious yacht party in full swing, I adjusted my Brioni jacket and sipped my whiskey. Mitch loved these moments where we showed off our loyalty to the darkness we’d embraced. "Victoria was naive," I said coolly.

The words tasted like ash and victory on my tongue, but I’d learned after my mother died not to let Mitch play me. Unlike most people, Victoria had always been good.

My father’s smile widened fractionally as he raised his glass in agreement. We are predators in this world of the privileged, always hunting for our next target. Speaking of which…Mitch gestured towards my newest present, Jennifer, who is currently chatting with a group of socialites. "Shall we make the introduction official?"

I adjusted the lapel of my blazer, knowing it’s my armor in this cutthroat world. "Let her come to us," I said, positioning myself near the stern of the yacht. "The chase is always sweeter when they think they’re the ones hunting."

The Miami heat wrapped around us like a velvet straitjacket as we waited for our prey. The city’s lights twinkled in the backdrop as if mocking us with their artificial beauty. Despite the late hour, the air remained thick with moisture, heavy with unfulfilled promises. In the distance, thunder growled, one of those sudden Florida storms rolling in from the Atlantic, bringing lightning and redemption that will never arrive.

As I scanned the crowd for potential targets, snippets of conversations reached my ears: real estate deals in Coral Gables, a new club opening in South Beach, someone’s wife running off with her yoga instructor. The petty dramas of the wealthy and oblivious, all thinking their small lives matter. Yet they are nothing but pawns in our larger schemes.

I stood in the crowded room, sipping my whiskey and making small talk, when Jennifer at last approached me. Her footsteps faltered as she caught sight of me, and her once-familiar face showed a flicker of admiration as she observed my tailored suit and confident smile. Her gaze glimmered with hope and a hint of desperation. She used to look at Victoria that way too, before my sister died.

"Peter Morgan," she said, her voice wavering like a prayer. "It’s been so long."

I let my tone carry just enough warmth to put her at ease, with enough edge to keep her on uncertain ground. "Jennifer," I replied smoothly. "You’ve grown up since we last saw each other."

It’s a lie. She had grown up, sharpened into something the camera would ache for, and every man on this deck had already turned to track her across it. That wasn’t the lie. The lie hid underneath, in the easy warmth I let coat the words, because Mitch showed me Jennifer’s headshots three months ago while cutting a deal with her mother. Fifty thousand dollars for ensuring Jennifer would cross paths with me and need my help. A mother selling her own daughter’s future for the price of a car. I had studied those headshots past reason, past sleep, until her face arrived behind my eyes uninvited and stayed, and somewhere in that studying I stopped being able to picture Hollywood taking her before I did.

Jennifer laughed nervously, her fingers tracing the stem of her champagne glass as if trying to calm herself down. It’s a tell that I take note of for later use. "Yeah, it has been two years since…" she said, almost wistfully. "I wasn’t sure you’d remember me."

"How could I forget?" I replied with a smirk. "You were Victoria’s best friend after all."

Pain flashed across Jennifer’s face like summer lightning at the mention of my sister’s name. We both have scars from Victoria’s death, but I’ve learned to use mine to my advantage. Jennifer still wore hers like open wounds.

Images of Victoria’s funeral flickered through my mind, dark clouds, wilted flowers, and the piercing sound of Jennifer’s cries. She had stood alone in her designer dress, a young girl surrounded by grief-stricken adults. But I pushed those memories away, locking them in a corner of my mind along with all the others that threatened to crack my carefully crafted facade.

"I heard you’re trying to break into acting," I stated casually, though the rumors I had heard were much more specific. Failed auditions, overwhelming debt, and a mother with expensive tastes and a gambling problem. It was the perfect recipe for desperation, one that Mitch knew would eventually lead Jennifer to me. Our sources had painted a vivid picture of a life on the brink of collapse, maxed out credit cards, late rent payments, endless callbacks that never seemed to bring success.

Jennifer’s chin came up, and her shoulders squared against the obvious signs of struggle, that stubborn pride pushing through the exhaustion. For one breath her eyes went somewhere else, somewhere tired, before she caught herself. She had spent her whole life being told her face was the ticket, and she wanted, once, to be admired for the work behind it. "Trying is definitely the operative word. It’s been… harder than I expected."

She took a sip of champagne, leaving behind a smudge of crimson lipstick on the crystal glass. "But I’m not giving up. I’ve been taking classes, working with some really innovative teachers. Method acting, scene study…"

I cut her off, letting my words linger between us like a tangible weight. "Admirable," I murmured, tapping my fingers thoughtfully against my tumbler. "Though sometimes success in this town is less about talent and more about… connections."

I gestured around us at the lavish party, a floating temple of wealth and influence that I had created. "Merit can only take you so far. The real question is, what are you willing to do to make it?"

The bait was set, and Jennifer bit down hard on it, her eyes sparkling with a familiar hunger born from years of almost achieving her dreams, but not quite. "Do you have connections in the industry?" she asked eagerly, leaning closer toward me.

Mitch appeared next to us with the grace of a shark gliding through water. His tailored suit fit him like a second skin, his blond hair was perfectly styled. He placed his hand on Jennifer’s bare shoulder, claiming her as his own. Her shoulder drew up half an inch under his palm and stopped there, and she pressed a smile over it and held her body very still, the way you hold still around something that bites.

Years ago, I would have stepped in, remembering how Victoria used to protect her from guys like Mitch and me. But Victoria is gone now, and I’ve learned that protecting people only keeps them weak.

"Now, Jennifer," Mitch said with a smirk, "Peter here knows everyone worth knowing in this town." He looked at me shrewdly, silently reminding me of our prior arrangement. "You’re lucky your mother and I decided to bring you here tonight."

The irony of his words nearly makes me laugh if it wasn’t so cruel. Jennifer had no idea that her presence here is all part of a carefully orchestrated plan by her mother. She viewed me as her savior, not realizing I’m just another devil in an expensive suit.

"Lucky me," she echoed, and I see the desperation in her eyes, a mix of hope and fear that makes her malleable enough for Mitch’s plans. The storm outside mirrors the one raging inside me, lightning flashing over South Beach in quick bursts.

Mitch murmured, "You’re welcome. Have fun tonight. She’s exactly what you need."

As I sipped on my glass of expensive whiskey, I watched Jennifer Gonzales dance with the other party guests. Her long, dark hair swished around her shoulders and her laughter filled the air. She’s exactly what I needed in this moment, a beautiful and vulnerable reminder of who I used to be before I became consumed by the allure of power and money.

I raised my glass to the Miami skyline. A sour pull sat low in my gut, and my choices kept replaying behind my eyes, each one editing itself and landing the same way. But then I pushed those thoughts away and focused on Jennifer. She’d immersed herself in the party but I easily located her in the crowd. She’s my chance to finally prove to everyone that I’ve truly become what this city demands, ruthless and ambitious. A chance to show that I could take something pure and corrupt it completely.

The wind carried the scent of salt and money across the deck, and somewhere above me, I imagined Victoria watching from whatever afterlife she’d ended up in. I wondered about the exact moment the last of her hope for me went out, the night she stopped waiting for her brother and started bracing for the monster she’d always feared he might become.

As rain began to fall, the party guests scattered for shelter, leaving Jennifer and me alone at the stern. Her white dress was now wet and very revealing. She leaned into me, playing her role perfectly. And as a flash of lightning illuminated us, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in her wide eyes, a cruel smile on my face, devoid of any trace of humanity. It’s then that I know without a doubt who I became, a monster driven by greed and power.