Copyright © 2020 by Kira Bazzel
Return to Jackson Falls, where uncovered secrets just may lead to a second chance for Senatorial candidate Byron Robidoux and the woman he never stopped loving...
Read on for the first chapter of
Scandalous Secrets
by Synithia Williams
Scandalous Secrets
by Synithia Williams
CHAPTER ONE
BYRON WAS AT the top of his game.
His heart pumped with exhilaration. His cheeks hurt from the smile that refused to leave his face. He stared out at the crowd surrounding the stage, and the eyes looking back at him were bright with enthusiasm, hope and determination. Signs with the green and blue logo of his campaign flowed like waves in their hands. A blend of people from all races, economic classes and social backgrounds packed in the brewery he’d chosen to hold his watch party.
And he hadn’t let them down. The results were in. He’d won.
The fervor of his supporters was like a tidal wave. Bowling him over with its strength. He’d done this. He’d actually gotten this far. The primary win wasn’t a guarantee he’d make it to the Senate, but he had lasted far enough to beat out an opponent with experience as a state legislator and a much longer record of public service. The weight of responsibility to live up to the expectations of the people who’d voted for him, the people who were currently cheering for him, was something he refused to take lightly.
“I promise you,” Byron said into the microphone. In his periphery, Roy, his campaign manager, took a step forward. Byron could hear Roy’s warning in his head. Never make promises in a speech. They come back and bite you in the ass. Byron didn’t care about that right now. This was a promise he planned to keep.
Byron held up a finger and shook his hand with each word. “I promise you I will not forget the trust you all have honored me with tonight. We have gotten this far, and we will keep going all the way to Washington. No more waiting for tomorrow. The time is now!”
The crowd cheered. They held up and waved his signs and repeated his words. “The time is now!” The campaign slogan had come about during a debate after his opponent, state senator Gordan, insisted the time wasn’t right to try and fight the administration on progressive ideas. Byron’s immediate comeback had been that fifteen years was too long to wait, and the time was now.
A slim hand slid into his left one and squeezed. Byron turned from the crowd toward his fiancée, Yolanda. Her brown eyes were filled with pride. Tall, graceful and perfectly polished in a tasteful green blouse and navy pants—to match his campaign colors—she complemented him. As Byron wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, anyone looking at them would see a young, optimistic couple deeply in love.
Byron didn’t miss how the gleam of triumph overshadowed the pride in her eyes. Yolanda was a woman on the way to making partner at the reputable legal firm she worked for. A position beneficial for the wife of North Carolina’s newest senator.
Byron leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. She placed a hand on his cheek. Her nails lightly scratched the beard he’d grown during the last weeks of the campaign. Her gentle reminder to cut the damn thing, before she pulled back and grinned wider. “We did it,” she said.
He slid his arm back and entwined their fingers. “Yes, we did.”
They waved and shook hands as they made their way off the stage. The band played upbeat music. Champagne corks popped throughout the building and more beer poured from the tap. The party would start now, along with the real work. He needed to finalize the strategy against his opponent. Brainstorm the best way to reach the digitally disconnected constituents in his district. Figure out the best way to utilize his family to spread his message throughout the district. Develop a plan to be more relatable to his constituents. Something even more necessary now that his best friend and former brother-in-law had plans to remarry into the family. This time with a different sister.
“I know that look” came a booming male voice.
Byron shifted and faced his father. Grant Robidoux had a Robidoux Tobacco cigar in one hand and the other slammed down hard onto Byron’s shoulder and squeezed. His dad was what Byron imagined he’d look like one day. Skin the color of dark honey slightly lined due to age, light brown eyes, and curly hair with just enough salt and pepper to make people say he looked distinguished. Pride radiated off him like sunbeams as he studied Byron’s face.
Byron took the glass of champagne Yolanda handed to him off the tray of a passing server. “What look is that, Dad?”
“The I’m-already-planning-the-next-step look,” Grant said, pointing his cigar at Byron. “Not tonight. There is enough time for strategy tomorrow. Tonight, you enjoy the win.” He winked at Yolanda. “Enjoy the company of the beautiful woman at your side. The real fight is about to begin. Give yourself this moment to bask in the glory.”
Yolanda raised her glass and tapped it against Byron’s. “I agree with that.”
Byron forced the massive list of things he needed to do to the back of his mind. Taking a second to enjoy this milestone wouldn’t hurt. “Fine, I’ll sit back and enjoy this win, but I’m starting early tomorrow.” He glanced around the crowd and caught the fierce glare of his older sister. “Uh-oh.”
Grant’s brows drew together. “Uh-oh? What’s wrong?”
“Elaina is scowling. Do you know why?” Nothing good ever followed one of Elaina’s scowls. She’d just been smiling and clapping with the rest of his supporters.
Grant’s gaze shifted away. He
