Page 5 of Forbidden Desires

Ithrow back the remainder of my bourbon as I open the article my buddy Parker sent me, reading thewords for the third time in an hour. I clutch my phone in my hand with white-knuckle force.

On the front page is a picture of my late father.Shadows of Deceit Unveiled: The Scandalous Secrets of The Alexander’s Late Owner.I can feel the anger coursing through my veins at the title alone. Fucking Hamilton Prescott. I should have knocked out his front teeth when I had the chance. I keep reading.

Behind Closed Doors: The Dark Legacy of the Late Owner’s Sordid Affairs.

In a shocking revelation that has sent tremors through the tight-knit community of Deception Bay, The Alexander, a once-respected hotel, now stands at the epicenter of scandal.

Recent investigations into the life of the late owner have shattered the picturesque façade of The Alexander, revealing a web of betrayal, deceit, and heartbreak. It has been discovered that the once-celebrated hotelier engaged in illicit affairs with members of his own staff that lasted many years.

My body is tight with anger. The week I inherit my family’s hotel and it becomes my responsibility, this fucking bullshit has to surface. It couldn’t havehappened while my father was alive to clean up the mess he made. While he was here to face the fucking music and answer the questions of our townspeople—because there will be questions, a fucking shitload of them. Nope. It’s me and my little sister Emerson who will have to clean up his mess.

The shockwaves extend further, with the revelation that the late owner’s wife met a tragic end 17 years ago in a car accident, allegedly caused by his suspected infidelities. The circumstances of the accident are now under renewed scrutiny as whispers of foul play and secret affairs emerge from the shadows.

As the scandal unfolds, Deception Bay grapples with the aftermath of a shattered reputation and the revelation of secrets that were meticulously concealed for years. The Alexander, once a symbol of hospitality and charm, now stands as a haunting reminder of the complex and dark realities hidden behind its elegant façade.

The community is left to wonder what other secrets may be buried beneath the surface, and how the aftermath of this scandal will shape the future of The Alexander and the town itself.

Sweet Tea Scandals, Annabelle Grace Turner

For three generations Alexanders have poured everything they have into making our hotel what it is today. Now, because of my father, it’s in complete disarray. I should have known, as soon as he could, fucking Hamilton Prescott would slander my family’s name and share our secrets with the world. Secrets my father thought he was taking to the grave. But I knew. And so did all my closest buddies at the time.

Elliot McAllister, Parker Whittaker, Noah Harrington, and Hamilton Prescott. All part of the Raider brotherhood, or so the town named us. We were the first team to beat the Bluewater Beach Eels, our biggest rivals. We became celebrated heroes for doing what generations before us couldn’t. There was a time when those boys and that team were my life. We knew the ins and outs of each other’s lives, the good, the bad, and the fucked-up shit we were all going through. They were all there when I saw my father with one of his mistresses. As a teenage boy, the revelation devastated me. As an adult, reading the words printed in a local paper makes me homicidal.

It's unbelievable that someone I once saw as a lifelong friend would do this to me, especially considering that I am now in charge of The Alexander and that this directly impacts me. The accident severed communication between Prescott and me, and we haven't talked since. I knew he hated me, blamed me even, but to use his new appointment as CEO of Prescott Media against me is low, even for him.

I should reach out to my sister, it’s what a decent brother would do. I stare at my phone, contemplating how. Our relationship is strained, and I know that’s on me. But she doesn’t know what I did over the years toprotect her, and keeping this from her was a part of that. Instead, I type out a message to her, not knowing how to support her.

BRODY: We can talk about the article when I’m back. If you need to.

I hit send. I wouldn’t even know the truth myself except our father eventually couldn’t stand the guilt eating away at him and confessed it all to me. I know I’m an asshole for not telling her how sorry I am or for asking how she is, or for not calling her to check in, but I’m shit at this stuff. I have spent most of my adult life avoiding ever getting too close to anyone so I don’t have to deal with the emotions of it all. And my little sister has a lot of emotions about everything. It’s not her fault she grew up practically an only child with me leaving home at seventeen after our mother died. She was just a child, merely seven years of age. We were completely different. We never truly had a chance of knowing each other. Now, it's my responsibility to return home and support her through this difficult situation.

Tomorrow, life as I know it ends. In the morning, I board a flight from New York to Savannah, then on to Deception Bay to take the CEO position at my family hotel for one reason only—I owe it to my sister.

As I wait for my uncle to return from the bar, I let my eyes roam around the establishment where we rendezvous every Friday night for post-work drinks. This city has cradled me for fifteen years. How am I supposed to say farewell to a life that’s been my refuge? Without Emerson, I’d have dismantled the business, sold it piece by piece, just the way my uncle trained me. But it means the world to her, and I can’t shatter herheart. She deserves better. It’s not her fault our father was a philandering adulterer. Or that our mama died when she was so young.

My uncle takes a seat across from me, sliding a fresh tumbler of bourbon into my hands. “I always knew this time would come,” he says, warmth in his voice. Oliver Stratton is more than an uncle; he’s my mentor and confidant. He’s a fucking legend. I owe him more than words can say. And with him, I wouldn’t need to say anything. He knows I don’t like talking much. He gets me like my father never did.

“You did?” I ask, taken aback. Once I was here, I never intended to leave the city. Deception Bay might have been the town I grew up in, but it hasn’t been my home in so long.

He nods. “Your name’s been on the deed to that hotel since the day you were born, whether you accepted it or not. All the toil you’ve put in has been grooming you for this moment. It’s time,” he says proudly.

I take a swig of my bourbon, trying to come to terms with my fate. Climbing the ranks to CFO at Stratton Holdings International, a role I poured my heart into since leaving Columbia University, this existence is all I ever saw for myself. “I’m not leaving because I want to. I’m doing it for Emerson. She needs me,” I say, making sure he knows returning to the small town I grew up in wasn’t part of my future until my father’s passing.

“She does. Your sister is brilliant, and she’s done wonders with the events side of the business, but she can’t manage it all. And this is your chance to grow your own legacy, not just help me grow mine.” He beams at me, trying to show his encouragement. I need it more than he knows.

My insides clench uncomfortably, knowing what going home really means. Dealing with it all, the feelings I have been able to bury for so long. Dealing with the people I have avoided, the ones that force me to remember what it was like before my mom died. Especially my little sister. I throw back the rest of my drink, trying to ease the discomfort. “You can call me anytime. If my replacement falters, I can be back here in less than a day,” I tell him, making sure he knows my loyalties are still with him.

His hand covers mine, and I meet his gaze. “We’ll endure, Brody. I can see a part of you hoped I’d say you couldn’t leave, that you should sell the hotel. But it’s more than just a business this time; this is about family. Your mama cherished that hotel, it was her essence, and she wouldn’t have wanted it in anyone else’s hands. I believe, deep down, you know this is what you have to do.”

He speaks of my mama as if she’d been blissfully married, supporting the man she loved, but I know the truth, and so does he. “I promised Emerson I’d give it twelve months. I plan to revitalize the place. It’ll be profitable and running seamlessly. But after that, I’ve no intention of staying. My life is here.”

“I know you will give it everything you have,” he says with a nod. “Give it time. Who knows, you might find comfort in small-town life now that you’re older. You might even decide to stay.”

I watch the smoking-hot woman standing with a friend near the bar, her face lighting up as she engages in conversation, a champagne flute in her hand. She looks like fun. Just another thing I’ll miss. In New Yorkno one has to know your name, and that’s how I have gotten by.

I always aimed to be nothing like my father. Throughout my adult years, I’ve consciously steered clear of relationships, determined not to inflict the same pain on someone as he did on my mother. Being straightforward with a woman about it being just a one-night thing simplifies dating and ensures no one ends up hurt. That’s easy here in New York, but going home means my life will again be under the scrutiny of a town that’s filled with whispers of secrets I would prefer stayed hidden. The article alone is enough to prove my point. There is no hiding there.

“I doubt it,” I murmur. I’m positive twelve months will be all I can tolerate.

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