Behind Closed Doors 2003 Novels & Stories

“I have signed the divorce.” “Go then, weak Beta, and never say that you were part of my pack, let alone that you were my wife. I am ashamed.” “It is well. Goodbye, Baitana” “My name is Aitana” says Aitana with a lump in her throat. “As you wish. Now go away, if you spend more than an hour they can arrest you for breaking and entering.” “Ok, I'm leaving.” says Aitana turning around as she leaves behind the love of her life and her past. As soon as she leaves, the doors close and she puts her hand to her belly. ‘I'm sorry mom, I had to do it’ Aitana says to herself mentally. Aitana leaves and a few minutes later, the butler receives news that sends him running to his boss's office. “Sir!” “Don't shout, I'm not deaf.” “The lady...” “She has finally signed the divorce. Finally, I'm free.” “It's not that, Madame is pregnant.” “What did you say?” shouts the alpha, making his butler tremble. “I...” “Go get her right now!”

Ten years. Ten years I gave Viktor Volkov everything; my hands, my loyalty, my designs, my silence. When his father stepped in front of a moving truck to save my life and died on that pavement, I became his son's by debt. By duty. And somewhere along the way, by something far more dangerous than either. Love. Foolish, one-sided, ruinous love. Now the doors of the Volkov estate are closing behind me with the quiet finality of a verdict. No argument. No goodbye worth remembering. Just the click of a latch and the ghost of a matching tattoo Viktor had lasered off his wrist before she arrived Elara Conti, all silk and Italian marble, the woman he chose in the time it took me to stop pretending he ever saw me. He gutted my studio. Erased my name from every wall. Turned ten years into a footnote. What Viktor doesn't know is that I'm walking out of those gates carrying the one thing he can never erase. His. And I will burn this entire life to the ground before I let him find out.

My younger brother, Luke, committed suicide after being falsely accused of plagiarizing Layla's brother's music. My own life was a living hell. I was a respected music critic, but now I was the sister of "the plagiarist." My reputation was in tatters. My colleagues whispered behind my back, and my articles were dismissed as the ramblings of a biased, grieving relative. The one person who had always stood by me was my husband, Julian, a successful music producer. We had been together since college, and he was my rock, my refuge in the storm. I thought he would believe me. But, he didn't. But the real betrayal came the evening, just another day of being ridiculed online, I came home to find Julian on the phone. His voice was low and urgent, laced with a coldness I had never heard before. "The case is closed, Layla. It’s over," he said. "The evidence has been submitted. No one will ever know that it was your brother who plagiarized Luke's music."

The rule was simple: No sex in school. But I broke it. It was supposed to be the perfect first time with my boyfriend, the moment I had been waiting for all summer…until everything went wrong! We were caught by my lecturer. My boyfriend abandoned me without a second thought, leaving me to face the consequences alone. Desperate to protect my reputation, my grades and my future, I begged for mercy. And he listened, but at a heavy cost. “Suck me off,” he ordered and in no time, I went down on my knees. From that day on, I was no longer just his student. I became his secret, his obsession, and his favorite slut to fuck behind closed doors. I should hate him, I should even run away from him. But the more he takes me, the more my body betrays me. This is wrong, forbidden and so fucking dangerous because if anyone finds out, it'll ruin everything! But when he fucks this good, how can I stop craving him?

I gave Evan Cole six years. I changed my name, walked away from the Moretti family, and became the kind of woman he could handle: quiet, useful, easy to overlook. I paid the bills, fixed his proposals, opened doors he thought had opened by luck, and waited every time he said we were almost ready. Then Maracame back. His first love. The woman he swore he hated until the second she needed him again. After that, I became the problem. Too jealous. Too dramatic. Too hard to please. Evan thought I would break down and beg for my place. While he played house with Mara, I saved every receipt, every post, every lie. Then I cut off the money behind his perfect little life and called my family. On Christmas Eve, he asked if I would wait. I smiled and let him believe Leah was still waiting. By the time he learned my real name, Alessia Moretti was already gone, and the mafia princess he never knew had finally chosen herself.

Liam closed the door behind and walked closer, step by step, striking fear in the girl. Nora backed away, her body hitting the icy wall. He stared at her, his deep cello voice resounding in the room.“Nora Shahan, have you forgotten what I told you three years ago? Don't provoke me. But time and time again you kept testing my patience.” He picked up her jaw harshly and continued. “Tell me, how should I punish you?” Nora met his eyes, which were filled with a coldness, making her hair stand on end. This was the real Liam, cold and heartless. She was foolish to think he had changed for the better. A pang of bitterness welled up in her heart and she closed her eyes, letting the memories from the past flood into her mind.-Three years ago, Liam had warned her to never appear in front of him and Nora had been well behaved, staying as far as away from him. Whenever he'd go north, she'd go south. Even when they were in the same class, she'd stay at the opposite end. But fate played a cruel joke on her when she got locked down at his place. He assumed it was one of her tricks to climb into his bed. But she was certain she has fallen into an elaborate trap. With his family using despicable means to destroy everyone around him, can Liam successfully get her out of that hell house? How will Nora survive living under the same roof with the person who's been nothing but a nightmare all her life while learning his darkest secrets that would entangle them together and bring their entire world crashing down with it?

I thought I was just a broke college girl with a traumatic past and too many cigarettes. I didn’t know I was born to lead a pack. I didn’t know I was being hunted. On the night of my twenty-fourth birthday, everything changed. One second I was at a club, pretending life didn’t suck. The next, I was being dragged out by a stranger with ocean-blue eyes, thrown into a black SUV, and told I was a werewolf. Apparently, I’m not just any werewolf—I’m the heir to a powerful bloodline, the only survivor of a massacre, and the center of a prophecy that could bring down one of the darkest witches in history. Now I’m stuck in a mansion full of secrets, locked behind doors I didn’t ask for, and shadowed by an Alpha who looks at me like I’m everything he’s ever wanted—and everything he’s not allowed to have. They say I belong here. They say I have power. But I didn’t ask for a bond I don’t understand, a fate I don’t believe in, or a love that might just break me.

“When you’re done shedding your tears, don’t forget to close the door behind you.” Those cold disdainful words shattered Starr’s world. Fleeing the scene of her lover’s betrayal, she is left ruined and wrecked by the man she once trusted, who now lies in bed with another woman, indifferent to the pain he has caused. Starr had poured her heart and all into building a life with Charles, only to discover that her love and sacrifices were used to build a life that she was never included in. Betrayed and broken, she learns that Charles only saw her as a way out of poverty and a means to support his true love and their unborn child. Determined to reclaim her life and shut out the pain, Starr seizes an opportunity to start over in France, taking a job offer from her boss that promises a fresh beginning. But as she navigates this new chapter, the wounds of her past linger. Can Starr truly move on and find the love she deserves, or will the scars of betrayal keep her heart closed forever?

For seven years, Elena Vale loved her husband quietly. She waited through missed anniversaries, cold conversations, public humiliation, and the endless shadow of the woman he could never forget. Everyone called her lucky to be married to Adrian Laurent, the untouchable billionaire whose name opened every door in the city. But they never saw what happened behind closed doors. The silence. The loneliness. The way he looked through her instead of at her. Until one night, something inside Elena finally broke. Not loudly. Not dramatically. She simply stopped waiting. And that was when Adrian began noticing everything. The untouched side of the bed. The missing messages. The absence of the woman who had loved him more faithfully than anyone ever had. But the more Elena pulled away, the more dangerous Adrian became. Because for the first time in years, he was terrified. Terrified that the only woman who had ever truly belonged to him no longer wanted to stay. And by the time he realized what he was losing… someone else had already noticed her too.

I took a shortcut through the alley and watched Dante Marchetti put a bullet in a man like it was nothing. He saw my face. That was the end of my normal life. Within an hour I was in the back of his car being driven to an estate I had never seen before with gates that locked from the outside and a wardrobe full of clothes in my exact size waiting like someone had known I was coming before I did. He told me I wasn't a prisoner but a guest. He said people who wanted to find me were considerably worse than him and that his walls were the only thing standing between me and a conversation I wouldn't survive. Maybe he was right. The problem is the longer I stayed the harder it became to remember which one was true. Because the man who caught me in that alley wasn't the only version of him. There was another one that nobody else seemed to get to see. The one who stood alone in his dead mother's library looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. The one who had my cat brought to the estate because he heard me crying through a closed door and didn't know what else to do about it. The one who almost smiled when I threw a glass at his head. That version of him was the one I couldn't stop thinking about. I came here as a witness. I stayed as something else entirely. Somewhere between the locked doors, the candlelit dinners and the secrets we started sharing in the dark I stopped wanting to leave. The question was whether a woman like me could survive loving a man like him. I was about to find out.