Page 5 of Room 710 (The Scarlet Hotel #15)

Elijah

Week One

My stomach was filled with a writhing sensation, a mixture of excitement and dread.

It was a pretty standard emotion for the beginning of any season, hoping for the best but expecting the worst, but it was worse this year than any in memory.

Not even when I moved to the city and got my first job as an unpaid assistant did I feel this… sick.

“Fuck,” I muttered, draining the last of my acidic black coffee, before tossing the cardboard cup in the trash outside my trailer.

Marc was standing off to one side, failing to cover his smile with his hand. I glared at him. “What?” I snapped, my usual smooth edges feeling sharp and prickly.

“Oh, nothing,” he said, outright grinning now. “I just love seeing you rattled on day one. Makes me feel like I have my shit together.” Bethany laughed at him—or maybe it was me she was laughing at.

“Bah!” I waved him away. My team had seen me at my worst after last season’s implosion, and they still came back for another season. They knew what they were getting into. “Just tell me we’re all set to go. All our contestants are ready?”

Bethany gave a mock salute. “Yes, boss. NDA forms are all signed, pre-interviews have been filmed, and the house is rigged with A/V, ready for move-in day.”

We were currently standing in front of the house in question, dawn painting the white stucco a pale rosy peach.

It was a sprawling bungalow that the network had rented for the season.

There were three bedrooms, which we’d set up with bunk beds for the contestants—they could spread out as the weeks went on and they began to get evicted—while Devon got the master suite and adjoining bathroom.

There was a large open shared area, with kitchen, dining, and living room.

It was your pretty standard family home—except for the fact that the windows had been covered with thick sheets of plywood, the backyard fence had been raised to ten feet, and there were discreet cameras mounted in every corner (and not for security).

It was all decorated quite plainly inside, as much for our budget’s sake as it was to cut down on visual distraction.

There was lots of lighting and comfortable seating areas.

We also provided them with plenty of entertainment, like a large-screen TV with an extensive movie collection, video game console, and of course, a pool out back (because nothing brought out the fans like wet shirtless men).

We did expect them to get a little stir crazy considering they were leaving their phones at the door, which was something we actively encouraged.

Boredom, paired with clashing personalities, made people lash out, and that made for good TV.

I rolled down my shirt sleeves and reached for my suit jacket, hanging on the back of my director’s chair. “So just the interview with Devon left?” Marc nodded, half his attention on his phone.

I shook off my nerves and attitude, pulling on my laidback charm like armor.

Some days, I felt as much an actor as the cast in front of the camera.

At first glance, I was tall, broad, gruff—I was intimidating, I knew it.

Growing up, I’d always been big, just like my dad.

He was a farmer, like his dad before him.

There were some benefits, like being on the starting line of the football team in high school without even trying, which eventually earned me a scholarship to college.

But I didn’t always love the attention it got me.

I noticed early on how omegas tended to keep their distance, how they made sure not to be alone with me.

I hated how I made people nervous. I didn’t want to scare anyone, quite the opposite.

But with lots of practice, I’d learned how to make myself more approachable, almost friendly.

I kept my arms at my sides, hands in my pockets, and I slouched to look shorter.

I didn’t crowd people’s personal space, smiled a lot.

Most people didn’t even notice how large I really was.

I straightened my tie and smoothed down my jacket. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Devon was waiting under a pop-up awning, dressed in beige slacks and a navy polo, his dark hair styled back.

There was a blooming lilac bush acting as a backdrop for the interview, the air scented with its perfume.

He rose from his chair when he saw us coming.

His smile was genuine, body relaxed as he reached for my hand, and I couldn’t help thinking he was the perfect choice for this season’s alpha—though I’d been wrong before. “Elijah, good to see you again.”

“You too. Are you excited yet?”

“I’m not not excited,” he said, his laughter a rich sound cutting through the quiet morning setting.

We settled into folding chairs facing each other, and Bethany got to work clipping microphones and angling the cameras. We’d already run through the questions and answers ahead of time. It wasn’t scripted exactly, but reality TV took a certain amount of guidance and manipulation.

Once she was all set up, she gave us a nod.

I crossed an ankle over my knee and folded my hands in my lap, aiming for calm and relaxed. This was just a friendly conversation, not an inquisition. “So, Devon, I hope you’ll forgive me for just diving in, but I know a lot of our viewers are dying to know… Aren’t you straight?”

He laughed good-naturedly. He’d have known the question was coming even if I hadn’t told him ahead of time.

It was the subject of much online speculation.

“I know what everyone’s thinking, but yeah…

I’d been dating women exclusively for the past 20 years, ever since I took Christina Young to junior prom, but I guess you could say I was a serial dater.

I must’ve fallen in love a dozen times, but no one ever felt quite right.

I felt doomed never to find my happy ever after.

But I’d never really stopped to wonder why I couldn’t find that one true love.

Honestly, I might’ve gone my whole life without discovering this other side of myself if it weren’t for Max. ”

“Max Shepherd?” I clarified.

“Yeah. We’ve been friends for years, but something changed when we were filming. He’d recently met his now husband, and I found myself wanting what Max had. He was so… free, so certain of his future. It made me take a step back and reassess my life and what I really wanted.”

“And that was men?” I asked with a teasing lilt.

He laughed, but his cheeks pinked up with a blush.

“I guess that’s simplifying things a bit, but…

yeah. I’ve always been attracted to both men and women, but my parents were super religious.

Needless to say, they weren’t impressed with me becoming an actor in the first place, and I’m embarrassed to say that it was just easier to date women.

I didn’t want to rock the boat. But suddenly, here I was being drawn to Max as more than a friend.

Honestly, if he’d been single, I probably would’ve taken my shot. ”

“So what makes you think Lonely Alpha can help you find your happy ending?”

Devon’s smile turned sad. “Honestly? I’m not ashamed to say I’m a little desperate.

That sounds awful, but… I kinda feel like I’ve wasted half my life not exploring my options.

Heck, not exploring myself . Not to say that the women I dated weren’t lovely people, but I feel bad that I might’ve wasted their time too, you know?

I’m just really excited to start the next stage of my life.

I’m ready for my fairy tale, and I’m hoping Lonely Alpha will introduce me to my Prince Charming. ”

I expected the fan forums to have plenty to say about this interview and about Devon as a whole, but it was hard to dispute his earnest answers. The man wanted to meet the love of his life, someone he could connect with on a deeper level. It was something we could all relate to.

Honestly, I was a little jealous of Devon.

He would get his pick of a dozen omegas, all attractive, intelligent men looking for love.

The show’s set-up would eliminate a lot of the guesswork, cut straight to the core of their compatibility.

A series of challenges would expose any flaws, and over the weeks, Devon would get to know them, perhaps even intimately.

I knew who I would pick, of course, but Devon hadn’t met any of the contestants yet.

It was impossible to predict who he would connect with.

My mind flipped through the contestants’ headshots, landing instantly on Ziggy, with his lopsided grin and expressive eyes. Would Devon feel that same draw toward him as I did? I was excited to find out.

After wrapping up our interview, it was time to get this show on the road.

My heart stuttered an uneven beat in my chest, and I wiped my damp palms on my pants as I made my way to our home base, the trailer parked at the curb.

This would be my home for the next three months.

We had security 24/7 to keep avid fans at a distance, but I couldn’t bring myself to put my entire trust in strangers being paid to do the job.

I needed to be on hand in case anything went wrong.

That way, I could keep an eye on the cameras and tag any important footage we may want to use.

This season’s hosts were waiting for me at my trailer door, hands entwined.

Clark and Marty were last season’s winners—sort of.

If the alpha remained lonely after the show was over, did anyone truly win?

These two would certainly argue they had, as would their fans.

I’d invited them as our guest hosts because I thought it would be better to lean into the debacle than try to pretend it never happened.

It never did anyone any good to ignore the facts.

“Hey, guys, thanks for agreeing to this,” I said, smiling affably. I offered my hand, a good will gesture.

They shared a look full of meaning before shaking my hand one at a time. “Sure,” Marty said. “We owe it to our fellow omegas to ensure you guys get it right this time.”

I chuckled tightly, setting my palm over my chest. “Oof, that’s a bit of a cheap shot, don’t you think? Leo Schuster had us all fooled, myself included. I never would’ve picked him as our alpha if I’d known—”

“It’s fine,” Clark interrupted, ever the peacekeeper. “Neither of us are complaining about how it turned out. Are we,” he said, nudging Marty with his elbow.

Marty practically melted into Clark’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing his neck. “Nope, not a single bit. Besides, we’re being paid very well.” He smirked and gave me a wink.

Time had a way of changing our perspective about things.

At first, I was furious when Clark and Marty announced on live TV that they’d chosen each other rather than Leo.

Not because I had an issue with two omegas being together, that wasn’t it at all.

I wasn’t a closed-minded asshole. No, it was because it went against my plan .

I’d had the whole season figured out from episode one, and I’d never seen this coming.

I liked to be in control of things, and my ego took a hit.

Now, though? I smiled at the two men, nodding.

They were good together, I could admit that.

I guess we had to go off script sometimes to find our happy ending.

That didn’t mean I wouldn’t try even harder to control this season’s outcome, though.

Fans had begun to line up along the barricade, with hand-painted signs and Lonely Alpha t-shirts, ready for season ten to kick off.

“Why don’t you two grab a camera crew and go mingle with the fans for a bit,” I suggested.

“I can see you’ve got some fans out there.

” There were more than a few signs with iterations of CLARK + MARTY 4EVA.

Marty’s grin was beaming as he dragged a more reluctant Clark. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint our adoring fans.”

Clark turned back to point a finger at me. “Don’t encourage him. He can barely get his ego through the door as it is.”

I laughed, feeling lighter for a fleeting moment.

But too soon, my attention turned back to the house.

There was a lingering tension in the air, like static before a storm.

Goosebumps lifted along my arms, and it had nothing to do with the cool morning breeze.

Anticipation made my fingertips tingle and my heart race.

My body and mind were at war, half of me full of dread, while the other half of me couldn’t wait to begin.

For better or worse, I had a feeling this season was going to be unforgettable.

A crackle of the radio at my belt let me know that the first of our contestants was being chauffeured down the street.

“Here we go,” I whispered.

Pulling open the door to my trailer, I made my way inside and stood in front of the bank of screens, ensuring each camera was pointing where it was supposed to be. Outside, the fans’ volume got louder, and Clark and Marty got into position, reciting their lines with flare.

My heart slowed as I felt the show’s rhythm settle around me. Familiar. According to plan.

I kept a list of contestants, ranked on their likelihood to win.

At the top, I had a few listed as nothing more than fodder.

Their personalities were cookie-cutter, their features bland.

There was absolutely nothing to make them stand apart, which was probably why I kept forgetting their names.

Dave? Dan? Something with a D. I peeked at the list. Dash, right!

I knew that. Anyway, it should be an easy decision for Devon to evict him from the house first, followed probably by Ross and Alex, culling the competition to leave the more interesting characters for last.

And, to no one’s surprise, at the bottom of my list was Ziggy. He was going to win this season, I just knew it.

I held my printed list up to the corkboard and stuck a pin through it. Week one was about to begin.

Dash Patterson Ross Walters Alex Clement Costas Layton Stuart Lee Garfield Basso Abraham McNeal Rune Cochrane Cy Adler Darnell Sawyer Prairie Donoghue Ziggy Goff