Текст книги "Hidden in Lies"
Автор книги: Rachael Duncan
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
“HE’S GOING TO announce his candidacy tomorrow,” I say quietly into the phone. After sexually pleasing Cal in the woods, we came straight home. All the policemen were gone, but the house is still a wreck. I started to clean it, but Cal stopped me saying he had already called the housekeeper to come in. Sitting on my bed in my reorganized room while Cal sits in the brandy room, I called my mother to let her know what was going on.
“Oh, honey,” she responds, her voice clogged with emotion. I can picture her holding back the tears. “That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Part of me wants to tell her that it’s not. That I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep up this act on a national campaign tour. There will be no downtime, no time for me to regroup and put on my mask. I’ll have to be on twenty-four/seven or risk the public seeing right through me. But the other part knows that my words would fall on deaf ears. I love my mother dearly, but she doesn’t want to hear how unhappy I am. She wants to hear that I’m happy, that she was right all those years to push me into marrying someone wealthy and influential. And here I am, one of a few ladies in this country who has the potential to be the next first lady. I’ve surpassed everything she’s ever wished for my life.
“Yes, Mother, it is wonderful,” I respond in the happiest tone manageable.
“I can’t believe it. My baby girl living in the White House. Did you ever imagine, Elizabeth?” She’s sniffling, and now I know she’s crying.
“No, Mother, I never imagined this.” And for once, I’m being completely honest with her.
“Elizabeth,” Cal shouts up at me from the bottom of the stairs.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” I tell him. Hurrying through my jewelry box, I put on my pearls before taking one last look in the mirror. My light-brown, medium-length hair is straight and pushed back behind my shoulders, my green eyes are bright and wide, and my slim figure is dressed in a navy fitted, cap-sleeved dress. Black heels polish off my look and add another four inches to my five-foot-seven-inch frame.
Today is the day Cal will tell the world that he plans to run for president. As if I didn’t have enough on my mind, he also thought it was a good idea to meet the gentleman from the private security firm that will be working for us. Ensuring I look pristine for the occasion, I walk out of the bedroom and downstairs to meet Cal.
When I reach the bottom, I make my way toward the kitchen until I see Cal. He’s facing me, talking to a man whose back is to me. His brown hair is short and neatly cut. He’s wearing a black suit that accentuates his rather broad shoulders and tailors in to show off his trim waist. He’s tall, taller than my husband who stands at six-foot-one.
Cal’s head peeks out to the side of the man’s shoulder and smiles at me when he sees me. “Ah, here she is.” Holding out his arm, he gestures for me to join him at his side. Returning his smile, I begin to walk toward him when the mystery man turns around and faces me. My step falters as I take in the sexiest man my eyes have ever seen. He has masculine features with his strong jaw and a straight nose that perfectly fits his face. His face is smooth with not a speck of stubble to be seen, but it’s his eyes that stop me in my tracks. They are the lightest shade of blue that match the crystal-clear water of the most secluded, tropical beaches. It feels like we stand there staring at each other for hours, but I’m not aware of it until I hear someone clearing their throat beside me.
“Is everything alright, dear?” Cal whispers harshly into my ear. I’m immediately brought to the here and now and completely mortified. Get a grip, Elizabeth, I chastise myself.
Hoping to play off my blatant perusal of this man, I say, “I’m sorry. You look strangely familiar and I thought I knew you from somewhere. It’s my mistake though.” I smile politely at him and snuggle in to my husband’s side.
“No worries, ma’am,” he replies in a deep, smooth tone. I swear to God he could melt panties with just the sound of his voice. But when he flashes a half smile to show off perfectly white teeth, those same panties are igniting in flames. Shit! What is wrong with me?
“Hello, I’m Elizabeth Fitzgerald.” I surprise myself when my words come out calm and not shaky. Holding out my hand, I wait for him to take it and shake.
“Alex Matthews,” he says as he grabs my hand. It’s large and rough and swallows mine whole. “Nice to meet you.” His clear blue eyes pierce through mine in a way that makes me feel naked. Not in a sexual way, but in a vulnerable, he-can-see-straight-through-me way. It makes me increasingly uncomfortable, so I break eye contact and remove my hand from his before resuming my spot next to Cal.
“Shall we have a seat then?” Cal asks, leading us into the formal sitting room toward the front of the house. The whole room is bright and done in shades of cream. The plush furniture is ornate with curved backs and dark wood trim accenting the couch and two matching chairs. An elegant coffee table sits in the middle. The intent with the colors and placement of the furniture was to make it feel cozy, intimate. But to me it looks stuffy and I’m afraid to sit on anything in this room.
After we’re all seated and beverages are offered, Cal jumps in to his series of questions. “So, tell us a little about your background. What were you doing before you started doing private security?”
“I was in the Army for about ten years before I was honorably discharged and started doing this immediately after.” Alex’s cool demeanor has me transfixed. He’s not bothered in the least, not showing an ounce of nerves or anything. His eye contact with Cal as he answers is strong and confident. Holy hell, he’s sexy.
“Nice, and what did you do in the Army?” Cal drapes his arm over the back of the couch, barely touching my shoulder. The contact makes me tense slightly for just a second, but I relax my shoulders quickly hoping Cal didn’t notice the change.
“I was in Special Forces, sir.” Again, the intense stare shows he’s not intimidated by my husband and I find it fascinating. Most people stumble all over themselves when speaking to a senator.
“What made you get out? Couldn’t handle it anymore?” There’s a slight air of condescension in his voice, which causes me to look at Cal from the corner of my eye.
“Cal,” I chastise quietly. His answer is to cut me a dry look, and I know I’ll hear about this later. I turn my focus back on Alex.
Seeming completely unfazed by Cal’s rude comment, Alex says calmly, “I got sick of deploying. Sick of seeing my friends die, sir. I’m sure you can relate. You’ve served, right?” His jaw tightens infinitesimally and he drills holes into my husband’s face. I suspect he knows the answer to his question. Cal doesn’t pick up on the slight change of his demeanor, but I do. He’s pissed and I don’t blame him.
“Uh, actually no, I haven’t.” Cal sits up in his seat probably to try to gain superiority over the situation. He knows just as well as I do that that question was meant to put him in his place.
“Oh, I see,” Alex says, clearly not surprised at all by Cal’s response. He hasn’t moved from his relaxed position in his chair. His ability to stay cool and calm is quite intriguing.
The silence stretches for an uncomfortable amount of time. I’m getting ready to break it when Cal clears his throat and sits back in his chair. “Well, then. I’m sure you’ve been briefed on this assignment. Your job will be to protect my wife.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. Looking at him, I meet his gaze and smile before turning back toward Alex. My breath catches as his eyes collide with mine. He’s studying me closely and it’s unnerving.
“Yes, sir. I understand there was a break-in recently and you’ll need someone to watch over your ...” He trails off and quickly cuts his eyes to me before returning them back to Cal, “assets.” Wait a second. Is he referring to me as an asset? My eyebrows furrow at the insinuation and I open my mouth to respond, but I stop myself. That wouldn’t be very becoming of the wife of a Fitzgerald, so I clench my jaw and keep quiet. Alex watches me through my inner battle and he picks up on the moment I decide to keep quiet. The reason I know is because the corners of his mouth twitch slightly. He looks away when I narrow my eyes at him, but his full lips continue to twitch.
Ass.
“Great. I’ll be announcing my candidacy later today, so you’ll need to start right away.” Cal stands up and both of us follow suit.
“Yes, sir,” he replies with a single nod. I’m curious as to how much he’ll be watching me. Surely he has to go home and sleep at some point. “I’ll hang out down here by the door and check the perimeter every so often until you’re ready to leave to make your announcement.”
I head upstairs to get away from everyone. I’m not too thrilled with the thought of someone following my every move. In fact, I hate it. I hate that I’m going to have to wear this mask even when I’m here alone. Well, not alone since Alex will be here, but this is the only time I get to be me. The only time I don’t have to smile and pretend that I’m thrilled with everything my husband does and says. The only time I can let out how miserable I truly am. Now, I’m going to have to suck it up and pretend in front of him too. Cal strolls in a couple minutes later.
“What do you think of Alex? Will you feel safe with him when I’m not around?” he asks. Even though I don’t know Alex, I do feel safe with him, and the realization strikes me as odd. I’ve never been one to trust others easily, knowing that most people always have a hidden agenda. I’m not sure what it is. It could be something in his eyes, or the confidence he exudes, but it makes me feel like he knows what he’s doing. Even if I didn’t feel safe, I’d never tell Cal. He would make the choice regardless, so how I feel is of no consequence. I’m actually surprised he even asked.
“Yes, he seems like he’d be proficient at his job. I do have a question though.” His eyebrows raise expectantly. “Will there be someone else that stops by? He can’t possibly watch over the house twenty-four hours a day.”
“He’ll set up a living quarters in one of the spare bedrooms. It’s already been arranged. He’ll have a partner that will relieve him at night for a few hours while he rests, but otherwise, it’ll just be him with you. I’ll have a separate security detail with me. I met with him last week when I decided to run for office.”
“Okay, that makes sense,” I reply with a small smile. Inside I want to scream at him. He’s known for a fucking week that he was going to run for president and he just told me last night? My jaw clenches with the need to lash out at him, but I pull it back not wanting him to know how much I despise his lack of respect for me as his partner in life.
“THAT’S WHY, WITH the support of my wife,” he pauses to glance at me standing beside him before returning his attention back to the crowd, “I’ve decided to run for the office of president in 2016.” The crowd goes nuts with cheers and applause. I smile and clap along in the celebration, but my eyes keep roaming around, more alert to my surroundings than ever before.
Sure, there’s always been a small group of security personnel when he’d give speeches, but I never paid them much attention. Now, with the home invasion, it seems to be one of the only things I notice. A few guys line the bottom of the stage we’re standing on, facing the crowd. It makes me feel better knowing they’re actively surveying the audience for anything out of the ordinary, but that’s not what has my senses heightened. It’s the exquisite specimen behind me. I don’t have to look to know he’s there. I can feel him. And that realization is troubling to me.
A man has never, ever made me feel this way. Call me a gold digger, but I’ve always entered a relationship knowing how many zeros were at the end of their banking account balance, and that knowledge definitely didn’t zap my panties like one look from this man does. He has this mysterious air about him that I want to pick apart and dissect. He’s rather quiet; of course I’ve only been around the guy for less than twenty-four hours. I can’t figure out what is drawing me to him, but I know I need to stop immediately. I’m married and Cal would flip his shit if he knew the thoughts running through my mind regarding Alex.
A shadow looming over me pulls me to the here and now. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Alex close behind me. “I’ll take you back to the car while he finishes up. Okay, ma’am?” he says close to my ear. Goose bumps race down my flesh as his breath hits my skin. Butterflies dance in my stomach and I have to resist the urge to close my eyes and savor the moment. My body’s reaction is alarming and unwelcome. Swallowing hard, I do everything I can to squelch the feelings whirling inside me.
I nod and turn back to Cal. “Alex says he’s going to escort me to the car while I wait for you to finish up here. Is that okay, dear?”
He glances down at me and says, “That’s perfect. I shouldn’t be long. I’m just going to talk to a few potential donors and set up some lunch meetings with them for later on in the week.” His attention turns back to the crowd, waving at them as they continue to applaud.
Standing up on my toes, I kiss him on the cheek and smile lovingly at him. Of course, this is all for show. The cameras are rolling and I’m expected to be the supportive, totally devoted wife of a politician. So that’s what you’re going to get. “You did wonderful today, Cal. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you in a few.” He kisses me chastely on the lips before I turn to Alex where he is studying me closely, his head tilted to the side just the slightest bit. Again, I feel like he sees through my shield, the façade that protects me from displaying the phony that I am. Quickly turning away from his scrutinizing eyes, I walk off the stage. He’s close behind me in seconds and puts a hand on my lower back to guide me to the awaiting car. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way my skin ignites from his touch.
Alex carefully helps me into the back of the car, looking around at our surroundings while he does it. Walking around to the other side of the car, he opens the door and slides into the front passenger seat. Neither of us talks and it’s so incredibly awkward for me. I find myself shifting in my seat often, playing with my nails, and looking around aimlessly. He looks ahead, his eyes covered with sunglasses, making it impossible to see exactly what he’s looking at. I take the opportunity to study his profile. He really is a stunning man, with his sharp jaw line and full lips. This is the first opportunity I’ve had to look at him without being obvious and getting caught, and I’m taking advantage of it. Upon closer inspection, I see a thin, jagged scar that runs along his jaw line. I probably wouldn’t have noticed it if I wasn’t studying the side of his face. I almost want to reach out and touch it to see if it’s as rough as it looks. The mark isn’t a flaw by any means and does nothing to detract from his looks. If anything, it makes him look more rugged and manly.
Having finished my thorough perusal of his face and unable to take the silence anymore, I say, “Alex, how long have you been doing private security?”
Keeping forward, he responds, “About two years, ma’am.”
“You don’t have to call me ma’am. You’re making me feel old,” I say in a lighthearted way. I don’t know what possessed me to be so informal. I’ve never protested to someone calling me ma’am before. In fact, I’ve become so used to people doing it, it’s almost expected.
“Okay, Mrs. Fitzgerald.” I feel my face pull down into a pout. For some reason, that doesn’t sound much better either. I’m about to tell him to call me Elizabeth when the car door opens and Cal slides in beside me.
“We have a meeting with Aaron tonight to go over some of the beginning stages of the campaign. Things are about to get pretty hectic and you’ll need to be there through the whole thing.”
Grabbing hold of his hand, I squeeze it and say, “I’m right beside you, Cal.” Public appearances aren’t the only thing I have to fool. I have to fool my husband into believing I’m the perfect wife as well. He has no clue the contempt I’m starting to feel for him. The anger and resentment grows on a daily basis, but I really only have myself to blame for it. As time goes on, I feel used more and more. I almost laugh at myself at the irony. Aren’t I doing the same thing? Using him for my own reasons? Except my reasons for marrying him got a lot more complicated after one phone call, and now I can’t leave.
“Good,” he says with a nod. The car pulls away as we drive back home.
I’m exhausted and the last thing I want to do is talk political strategy with Aaron tonight. Actually, I won’t be discussing anything. I’ll simply be an ornament on the couch where I’m expected to nod, acknowledge, and agree to all the plans that are laid out before me. Aaron’s good at his job, one of the best. He knows what appeals to the public and how to manipulate them into voting for whoever he works for. And that makes me hate him. Every action, every word has a specific goal and purpose. Everything is calculated and you cannot deviate from that plan. If you do, there will be hell to pay. Aaron’s a fairly calm guy, does well under pressure, but if you mess up whatever path he has laid out, he will come down on you like you’ve never seen. It’s why his candidates always win.
A little after seven o’clock there’s a knock on the door. Cal leaves me sitting in the living room while he answers it. A few moments later, he walks back in with Aaron. After we’ve exchanged pleasantries, Aaron dives in, pulling out maps and charts and numbers. All things that I couldn’t care less about.
Pretending my focus is on the meeting at hand, I discreetly look around the massive living room to alleviate my boredom. I never cared for the large, white sofa that faces the expansive windows overlooking the front yard or the matching armchairs and love seat. I’m not one for fancy furniture and it all looks rather pretentious. The fireplace to my left, on the other hand, is my favorite part of the room. It’s the focal point with its exaggerated mantel and built in bookshelves placed on each side. Reading has always been a passion of mine, an escape from reality, so I take pride in the books that line the shelves.
“Elizabeth, that’s where you come in,” Aaron says, looking at me. I’m sure I have a deer in headlights look, making it quite obvious that I wasn’t listening.
Shaking my head slightly, I say in confusion, “I’m sorry. I don’t think I understand.”
“You come from a poor family. Cal needs to connect to the poor voter. It’s hard to do that when everyone knows he comes from an extremely wealthy family. You’ll make a speech about your upbringing, your struggles, and how you met Cal. You’ll talk about how he never saw you as the poor girl and cared for you unconditionally. Just like he’ll do for each and every one of the voters.” I stare at him blankly, blinking every so often. He wants to use my childhood struggles as a campaign tool? A way to trick citizens in believing that he doesn’t think he’s better than them?
Truth is, Cal had no idea I was poor when he met me. I was in my third year of college and I had perfected the art of looking expensive without spending a fortune. I’d buy key designer pieces off of Ebay as a way to trick the men I was interested in. You flash a little Louis Vuitton here and there and suddenly you’re perceived as having money. None of them knew I grew up poor. It wasn’t until we were engaged six months after dating that he found out where I was raised and under what conditions. To say he was stunned was an understatement, but I had played my part so well that he was able to look beyond it. He saw me for my potential. And by potential I mean he saw the benefits of having me on his arm. It was obvious that I could work a room and schmooze over affluent people. That’s the perfect woman to have support you when you have high political aspirations. However, not everyone saw what I had to offer. I thought his mother was going to have a heart attack on the spot.
“Elizabeth, this will help me win the primary,” Cal says sternly, making me turn in my seat toward him. He looks offended that I haven’t agreed immediately, and it’s unlike me to hesitate at a request made by or in support of him.
Blinking several times, I say, “Yes, of course. Whatever you need, love. You know that.” I force a smile to spread across my face, knowing it doesn’t reach my eyes. Not that Cal would know the difference since this is the only smile he’s ever seen.
“Are you alright?” he asks, grasping my shoulder lightly.
“Yes. I’m sorry, I’m just exhausted from the long, exciting day. If you don’t mind, I was actually thinking of turning in for the night. But if you still need me here, I’ll stay.” Again with the fake smile.
“No, you go on up. I shouldn’t be much longer.” Leaning in, he gives me a kiss and lingers for a few seconds. I play along and act like the loving wife everyone knows.
Standing from the sofa, I walk around it and make my way through the kitchen. I’m in a daze thinking about their request, my eyes fixed straight ahead not seeing anything. That is until a pair of crystal-blue eyes catches my attention, causing me to come out of my zombie-like state. Alex is sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island. I hadn’t noticed him there before since my back was to him during the whole exchange with Cal and Aaron. I’m sure he heard the whole “let’s use your poor childhood” strategy. I can see the question in his eyes, but I’m not sure why. But there’s something else there, which leaves me puzzled and angry at the same time.
Pity.
And I hate it.
