Behind Closed Doors Read online

  Behind Closed Doors: A Romance Novella

  Ava Catori

  Copyright 2013, Ava Catori

  This story is a work of fiction.

  Chapter 1

  Pulling into our long driveway, I saw my husband’s mistress leaving through the front door. She didn’t even have the decency to use the back entrance. I was torn between anger and shame, feeling the slap in my face. I could walk away from this, live my own life, and be done with him. Only it wasn’t that easy, being in the public eye, every action I took touched us both.

  Hunter opened my door, “Ma’am” he said, escorting me to the entrance.

  I don’t know how to play these games anymore. I sighed wearily and stepped out of the car. Returning from a charity luncheon, I didn’t expect to see my husband’s sexual toy pass before my eyes. I could only ignore so much and pretend like it wasn’t real, but when I saw her leaving the pains in my stomach told me the truth.

  She was tall and slender, and whether she wore big dark sunglasses or not, I knew her eyes screamed slut. She knew he was married, but that didn’t seem to matter. I resisted the urge to scream at her, tell her to stay away, but there was no point in doing that. If it wasn’t her, it would be somebody else. I held my tongue and what little dignity I had left.

  Walking in, I set my bag down and tossed off my heels, something I’d wanted to do since I put them on this morning. Padding down the hallway with my shoes in my hand, I found my way to the bedroom. I used to share it with my husband. We used to be in love before I learned about his mistress, or should I say mistresses. The worst part was learning she wasn’t his first. We don’t sleep together anymore, but I can’t just leave. It’s not as easy as that.

  Changing into more comfortable clothes, I went to the library to bury myself in a book so I wouldn’t have to think about my own life. A large overstuffed chair with an ottoman called to me. I sank into it, wishing it would swallow me up. Settling in with a story I sighed heavily, letting my tears fall. I’m not made of steel; of course it hurt to see her. She was younger, prettier, and my husband chose another woman over his own wife.

  Alex “Hunter” Stone knocked at the door, making his presence known.

  I looked up and said nothing; my tears spoke volumes.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Michaels?” His concern seemed genuine, but he was simply doing his job to watch out for me.

  I nodded, swallowing my pride. “I guess I have to be.”

  “Would you like some company, or would you prefer I remain out here.”

  “I’d like to be alone,” I said, appreciating the gesture.

  “I understand,” he stated and then stood guard at the doorway entrance.

  Hunter was my assigned bodyguard, and spent his days nearby. He had a quiet strength. His presence was felt, but he never got in the way, always staying to the side. It’s hard to be the Governor’s wife while avoiding a huge controversy, but it’s harder to be the wife of a cheater.

  This wasn’t his first time, but it was the first time he’d been so brazen about it, throwing it in my face. When I confronted him he didn’t lie, didn’t pretend like it wasn’t happening, he simply said he wasn’t in love with me anymore. I’m not sure when the love stopped, but it never stopped hurting.

  I’d been groomed for a life in the public eye. My family came from politics, and I was raised to be another politician or at least a trophy piece for an important man – only this trophy’s shine had faded. There was talk of my husband being a future Vice President candidate, and the last thing he needed was for his marriage to fall apart. So I stood by his side, being a devoted wife, knowing his career depended on my silence.

  I tried to bury myself in the story, but I reread the same damn sentence over and over again. Finally giving in, I put the book down and stared at the bookshelves stacked with leather bound books. I’d systematically gone through the classics – and while they were good reading, I settled on something more modern.

  “Hunter,” I called out.

  He rounded the corner, his back having been to the doorframe, “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “Would you sit and talk with me for a bit? I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Michaels,” he said, joining me in the room.

  “I hate when you call me Ma’am, it makes me feel old.”

  “Yes Ma’am,” he self-corrected, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Michaels.” I think it was more habit than anything.

  “I know you’re on duty, but I much prefer Elle,” I reiterated for the hundredth time. “I’m only Mrs. Michaels by marriage, and you know that’s a sham,” I trailed off, not wanting to go there.

  “I understand, it’s just what I’ve been instructed by my agency,” he started.

  I knew he was supposed to be proper when referring to me, but I hated the coldness. I much preferred when he spoke to me like a peer, rather than his boss. He let it slip out time to time, but he was good at his job.

  “Hunter, can I ask you a question?”

  “Yes Ma…” stopping himself, “certainly, Elle.”

  “Do you think I’m an attractive woman, or have I passed my prime?” I was almost embarrassed to ask, but I needed to know.

  He wasn’t sure how to respond, not wanting to cross boundaries, “Elle, you’re a lovely woman.”

  “Lovely,” I sighed, “that’s the polite version of fine.” Taking a deep breath, “I’m getting older. Harry used to think I was beautiful, now he puts his cock in some young slut.” I shook my head, “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate and uncalled for,” I said, my frustration building at having seen his mistress leaving my house earlier.

  Harry never made an appearance, so I guess once their business was done; he went about his way – avoiding me as much as possible.

  “I’m flawed, Hunter,” I started to cry. “What happened?”

  “Mrs. Michaels, you’re not flawed,” he started, and then stopping to choose his words carefully. “Elle, some men can’t help themselves. I’m not giving him an excuse, what he’s doing is wrong, but some men don’t see loyalty as a trait they need to aspire too sadly. I’ve never understood that. I’m sorry he’s hurt you.”

  “You didn’t answer the question, Hunter. Hunter, is that what your mom used to call you, or did she call you Alex?”

  “She called me Alex, Ma’am. I picked up the nickname in the military – it stuck.”

  “I see.”

  “Mrs. Michaels, answering the question would put me in an awkward position, as you’re my employer, and quite honestly I don’t want to lose my job.” He was trying to be gracious, not wanting to be put on the spot, and not wanting to offend me in any manner.

  “Ahh, so you don’t have the heart to tell me I’m past my prime.” I understood, his lack of saying so told me what he truly thought.

  “On the contrary, Elle, you’re quite lovely, and this time I mean it in the most complimentary way.”

  I blushed, not expecting that answer. “Thank you, Hunter. I appreciate you sparing my feelings.” That was sweet of him to try to make me feel better, but I knew they were words of formality and not of heart. My luster was dimming as I got older.

  Harry, my husband, wasn’t always so cold, there was a time he truly loved me. We were perfect together, me having been raised in a political family, him having aspirations. It wasn’t until he got pulled into the crap that goes along with it that his values changed. One small bit at a time, he corrupted himself, and soon I was something he was willing to step on to get what he wanted. I think it was the power – it went to his head.

  Didn’t he understand these women didn’t truly want him for who he was? He was simply a public man with money, and these dirty women were only in it for exposure and a money g
rab. I’m sure it inflated his ego to have young women throwing themselves at him, but he never made the connection that it wouldn’t be happening if he was a no name tradesman.

  It didn’t matter, he’d screwed me over one too many times, and this time I was no longer in the dark – his truth came out, and our marriage became a sham. I hated him for hurting me and putting it in my face, and yet I still remembered what we used to be.

  I used to love Harry. When we met, we’d stay up all night talking, laughing, sharing our thoughts, and I admired his ambition and aspirations. Something happened along the way, and when his name was tossed in the ring to possibly be groomed for a future VP gig, there was no stopping his ego.

  Now I see a loveless marriage, and feel trapped in the life I chose. I can’t destroy his political dreams, he’s come too far – and yet in the process I’m paying for it with his infidelity. I tried to threaten him when I first found out, but then I caved and told him that if he was going to live this way, at least keep it out of my face. He couldn’t even do me that favor at this point. He was only in it for his own wants and needs, knowing I was trapped in the situation.

  I was crushed – and thankful that we don’t have kids. I wouldn’t want to expose them to this kind of life. I chose the money and the lifestyle over my freedom when given the choice. It was a mistake, but I’m in too deep. I can’t back out now.

  “Hunter, would you mind stepping out?” I asked, wanting to confront my husband over his sleazy tramp leaving through the front door.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he said returning to his post at the door. He was always near, strong and silent.

  Dialing Harry’s private line, it went to voicemail. I knew it would. He rarely speaks to me when he can avoid it. My voice was cold, and I was bitter. “Ask your dates to use the back door in the future,” I spit out, and then hung up the phone.

  I hate him, and hated myself for allowing him to win. Why? Where was my backbone? I could walk away and let him deal with cleaning up his own mess – and yet something kept me here. I didn’t know what. Maybe underneath it all, I wanted to be a Vice President’s wife. I guess I deserved what I got.

  All my life I’d been groomed to be in the public eye. My parents were in politics, and image was everything. They wanted me to follow in their footsteps or at least keep it in the family. When I didn’t show an interest in politics for a career, I was primped to be a trophy wife for a colleague. I didn’t expect to fall in love with Harry, but I did.

  I was young, impressionable, and he seemed so wise, easily ten years older than me, and looking for a wife – somebody to be seen with. I fit the bill and fell for his charming charisma early on, not that he has it anymore.

  I should have demanded more respect, should have begged him to stop, but I was stunned and simply caved. What should I have done? Thrown him out of the Governor’s mansion? He’s the damn governor.

  I stood and stretched, leaving the comfort of the overstuffed lazy chair. Walking through the doorway, Hunter dropped in behind me, following me as I walked. I was used to his shadow, though he never overstayed his welcome. He blended well, something I desperately needed right now. I didn’t want to talk to anybody, I needed to crawl into bed and lick my wounds.

  I thought I’d accepted Harry’s behavior, but in truth I was kidding myself. What woman could accept it and not feel slighted? Seeing his slut leaving through the front door stung; at least leave me my dignity, what little bit that’s left.

  Hunter spoke softly, “If I may, Elle,” he started.

  I turned to look at the strong man standing just behind me, “Yes?”

  “You’re a graceful woman, you deserve better treatment.”

  “Thank you, Hunter.” He didn’t have to say that. I appreciated his words.

  “I’d best not say anymore, out of respect.”

  I nodded and understood. He was in a difficult position, working for both myself and Harry, though Harry had his own people following his every move. We went through a government agency that assigned our guards. Hunter had been with me for a while now, but being in the Governor’s home he knew his boundaries.

  Chapter 2

  When Harry came through the kitchen looking for something to snack on, he found me pouring a drink.

  “So nice of you to join me,” I shot sarcastically. “I saw your harlot today leaving through the front door, the god damn front door, Harry. Have a little decency, would you? It’s bad enough to know you’re fucking the whore, but you don’t have to throw it in my face.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you home so early,” he simply said. Grabbing a plate with grapes and cheese, he excused himself, leaving me to stand alone. Nothing else was said. Not I’m sorry, not even it won’t happen again, simply a slap in the face saying he wasn’t expecting me home.

  Some days I wasn’t sure why I stayed. I had no idea how to take my life back without leaving, and right now I felt tied here. With his possible upcoming bid for vice presidency, what did that mean for me? Would I live the lie longer, in bigger, brighter lights? Would everybody and their mother know we were in a loveless marriage? It wasn’t always this way – and yet I couldn’t remember how it used to be anymore.

  When had I stopped being enough?

  Pouring another drink, I drowned my sorrows and headed upstairs alone.

  Stopping to find Harry, I thought about talking to him about this, seeing if he even wanted to work on our marriage. I found him in his office, kicked back with his feet on his large mahogany desk. He was sifting through a handful of papers, casually glancing at them, while popping grapes into his mouth.

  “Harry,” I started, not even sure what I wanted to say.

  He looked up over his reading glasses, his head tilting so he could see. “Hmm,” he said, annoyed that I’d interrupted.

  “Never mind,” I said, turning and leaving. He didn’t try to stop me, didn’t ask what I came for, he simply went back to what he was doing.

  Climbing into bed, I set my drink on the nightstand. I picked a book sitting on my nightstand, and found where I’d left off. I must have read the same damn sentence four or five times. My mind was distracted, and I knew reading would be fruitless at this point.

  This isn’t the life I wanted. When I let myself dream, I saw myself happier – and not with Harry. He wasn’t the key to my joy anymore. I honestly didn’t know what was. It had been too long since I’d truly felt like myself. I was going through the motions, without feelings attached to them.

  I let my mind drift, and surprisingly it stopped on Hunter of all people. It’s not that I was emotionally invested in the man; it’s just that he’s the only one that was there for me day to day. I felt like I could almost call him my friend. The fake friends, the ones on the committees and that wanted to be seen with the Governor’s wife weren’t true friends, but Alex let me talk. He watched out for me silently, and was always there. It was silly for me to moon over the man; it was his job to be by my side. I felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, and blushed at the idea I’d even thought of him romantically for the tiniest second. It’s not like that – it’s just that I’m so damn lonely that I don’t know what to think about anymore.

  Hunter was a strong, sturdy man. His body was solid and toned. Attractive as he was, he wasn’t the normal type of man I fell for. It was the studious men, the ones who could capture you in debate, and talk until the wee hours of the morning that excited me. Hunter was a good looking man, but he barely spoke when he was beside me. This was purely physical – and for the moment, it was enough.

  I missed Harry, and what we used to have. In mourning, I held out my glass to him and slugged down the rest of my vodka martini. “Fuck you, Harry,” I paused, then said it again, “Fuck you.”

  Turning off the light, I pulled the covers around me and got lost in the dark of the night and my mind. I couldn’t settle, and after tossing and turning, I sat up. Turning the light back on, I sighed heavily and got out of bed.

  Looking for
my husband, I found him once again. I hated myself for saying it, but I was lonely. “Harry, do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” It was my polite invitation to spend some time together as a couple. Our love was fleeting, but I wanted to be held.

  “Not tonight, Elle. I have an important meeting in the morning,” he said, barely looking up.

  The chill in the air came from his gaze, not the actual temperature.

  “Of course,” I said and turned. A hot tear rolled down my cheek. It’s not like I expected him to join me, but I had to ask. I hadn’t felt arms around me in way too long.

  I can’t keep doing this. It was killing me a little bit at a time. How many more years would I be able to live this way?

  With the rising of the sun, I woke and went to shower. Standing under the spray of the water, I stared at the wall, my lack of emotions eating me up. I want to feel again – and right now the only thing I could feel was disappointment and frustration.

  Harry was rummaging through the fridge when I joined him in the kitchen. “Good luck at your meeting,” I said, trying not to spit out my words.

  “What meeting?” He asked oblivious that was the blow off he gave me last night.

  I bit my lip and left the room with a cup of tea.

  With the change of guards, Alex was back by my side. Hunter followed me to my office and stood patiently as I pushed through papers. I had a charity event to finish planning and a lunch with some ladies that wanted my husband to speak at one of their meetings. They were going to kiss up to me, hoping I’d put in a good word for them. I hated the transparency of these things – but went along with them anyway.

  “Hunter,” I called out, and waited for him to enter the room.

  He turned and looked through the doorway, “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “Please call me Elle,” I reminded. “Would you sit with me for a bit?” He was in dark slacks with a black leather belt, highly polished shoes, and a crisp white button down shirt.

  I wondered what he looked like in more casual clothing.