FRAUD: A Romantic Suspense Novel

by R. C. Stephens

  “Why did you wait for the debt to get so big? Why didn’t you say something sooner? We’re drowning. We don’t have money to cover this. We’re digging ourselves deeper and deeper.” I felt exasperated and fed up. I’d been here before, having the same conversations with him. When was he going to learn?

  “I thought I had a handle on things. I didn’t expect things to get this bad. Look, I’ll call Rafael tomorrow and ask him to lend me the money,” he said, referring to his brother in LA who was a partial owner of a sandwich bar.

  “Would Rafael have that kind of money to loan you?” I was a little shocked to say the least.

  “He’s big on saving money. What am I supposed to do? He’s my only option.” He cut me a steely glare. Anger radiated off him. I didn’t understand it. I tried not to accuse. I acted like a supporting wife, or so I thought. When I married Mark I took vows to cherish him in good times and bad. I thought this was my follow-through, but what about him?

  “Mark, you went on a three-week vacation and left me with no money in the bank.” I needed him to know that this kind of behavior wasn’t okay. We had two kids to feed.

  “I haven’t been home to see my family in forever.” He answered as if that was enough explanation. We saw life differently; arguing with him wasn’t going to solve anything, yet my own disappointment was growing along with my resentment of him.

  “I get that you miss your family, but you have responsibilities, a family to take care of. If we lose our house, where will we go? You can’t just take off and leave me to clean up your mess. I was really hurt and upset that you didn’t come to me.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed back tears. What if I hadn’t found those bills in the mail? Would he have told me about them?

  “You don’t understand, Nat. You don’t have a good relationship with your family. How could you possibly understand? I almost lost my mom a few years back. I needed to see her.” He made me feel small and mean. His words cut deep because I wasn’t close to my family. We were broken, and I had married him thinking he would fill those pieces in my life, but he was taking jabs at my weakness. Then I remembered the social media posts of him out and about all day on his recent visit back home. He wasn’t spending time with his mom. He was out with friends.

  “Okay, so I don’t understand family like you say. You still have two kids who love you, who you are responsible for. I don’t have money to pay the bills. What do you want me to do, and why should I have to shoulder this all on my own?” I asked, and a part of me felt proud for standing up to him finally and getting him to see his behavior wasn’t okay.

  “There you go being dramatic again. I didn’t leave you to clean my mess.” He stood abruptly from the table. “You saw my Facebook page, right? That is what this is about.”

  “Excuse me? I’m your wife. Not some stranger. You should have shared more of your trip with me. You should’ve tried to call more. The kids missed you. And yes, there’s that little detail that I didn’t have enough money to pay our bills.” My arms flew in the air, making a big circle like an explosion had gone off. That’s how my insides felt.

  “I said I’ll call Rafael in the morning, now drop it,” he snapped and began to walk away.

  “Mark,” I called after him. This conversation was far from over.

  He rolled his eyes at me.

  “You’re always brushing everything off.” I took a deep breath, feeling extra brave. When Mark had been gone, I’d allowed myself to envision a life without him, and I liked it. “What about Irina, Mark? Why were you in the backroom together at your store? Why were you doing up your belt as you walked out to me that day I came to visit you?” I didn’t ask about an affair straight out, but it was implied. The question leaving my lips gave me another jolt of bravery. It felt too good after years of keeping my mouth shut.

  His eyes widened, and he looked at me as if I was the crazy one. “Are you serious with that question?”

  “Yes.” I held my ground, looking him straight in the eye. I would not cower tonight.

  “You’re delusional. You know that? Just because your dad screwed around on your mom doesn’t mean I’m like that,” he spat. I hated when he brought my parents’ marriage into ours. It was something he liked to do. When he thought I was being irrational, he would tell me I was exactly like my mother, knowing that statement would cut deep. He knew how hard I tried with the kids, with him, with our home. My mother was nothing like me, and even though I knew that, his words delivered their sting.

  “You want to bring our families into this? Fine.” I was shouting now and I knew I needed to calm down, but he knew how to press my buttons. “Why don’t you tell me about your family. You’re always so secretive about them. Why don’t you talk about your brothers or sisters with me?” I watched as he ground his jaw. I angered him, and I didn’t care. Years of holding back surfaced like a tidal wave.

  He didn’t answer me.

  “I called your sister when you were gone,” I said softly, and my chin tilted slightly up. One of his sisters lived in Boston, away from the rest of the family. She had married and gone to school there. She called Mark’s cell once a year around Christmas to wish me and the kids a Merry Christmas.

  “Which one?” He paused and whirled around, stalking toward me. I definitely had his attention now. I enjoyed causing any type of reaction from my husband. I was used to him ignoring me. Now even his negative attention was welcome.

  I remained silent.

  “Dammit, Nat. Who did you call?” he asked, and he was seething.

  “I called Bella,” I said, raising my brows. At the mention of her name, he stiffened.

  “Why would you do that? What did she say?” he mumbled quickly.

  He was hovering above me now.

  “I don’t know if I should answer that.” I cocked a brow. “You seem too upset. Take a breath and calm down.” I was goading him. I was playing with fire, knowing I might get burned, only I couldn’t stop myself.

  He took a step toward me and I flinched back, a moment passed and a wash of bravery caused me to lift my head and look him straight in the eye. My gaze must have been unwavering because he grabbed my wrist.

  “What did Bella say?” His jaw gritted so tight I thought it would crack. I clearly struck a nerve. Too bad I didn’t actually call his sister, even though his reaction told me maybe I should get some answers from her. My mind was drawn to the pulsing pain in my wrist.

  “Let go of me.” My voice was steady and firm and that was when my gaze landed on the fancy watch on his wrist. I saw diamonds and the Rolex insignia, and fear turned to anger. He lifted his other hand, poised to strike. I glared into deep dark chocolate brown eyes that once bought me solace and made me feel loved. Now they were molten like pavement but as cold as ice. Where was the man I fell in love with? The man who comforted me during the worst time of my life when I was grieving my brother’s death. That man was gone and the one left behind had patience that was waning. I snapped out of my daze.

  “Let go of my damn wrist, and if you’re thinking of laying a hand on me, I wouldn’t, because I swear I’ll call the cops and have you arrested.” My own voice was surprisingly cool and collected. He may have put me down for years with his words, but the minute he crossed the line of hurting me physically, I would take the kids and leave.

  “The police. Funny, Nat,” he said with a garbled laugh, but my words took effect and he dropped my hand like I was a disease he didn’t want to catch and stepped back, running his fingers through his dark hair. Whatever tension radiated from him was suddenly tucked away. “What did Bella have to say? Haven’t spoken to her in ages.” His anger vanished, and in its place a mask of eerie calm surfaced. Deep down I felt like I won the battle. I spoke up, and he backed off. I was strong; I could handle him.

  “Where did you get that watch, Mark? We can’t afford that kind of luxury. Was it from one of the cash advancements you took on your credit card?” I didn’t know how much a Rolex cost, but I figured it was boat
loads of money.

  His eyes widened, and he looked at his wrist, almost shocked to see the watch. It looked like he forgot that it was there. His face straightened. “This”—he lifted his wrist as if wearing a Rolex was no big deal—“I borrowed from Rafael while I was back home.”

  “You must think I’m a real idiot,” I spluttered, my insides shook between him trying to hurt me physically and seeing the super expensive watch on his wrist.

  “I don’t think that. You’re being ridiculous. I think you are beautiful and smart. You know Rafael has expensive taste,” he said smoothly, and I remembered his fancy Mercedes when I was living back in LA. He lived in a simple apartment and ran a sandwich bar. Back then Mark had told me Rafael had saved up for eons to get the car. He liked expensive things. “He’s single, Nat. It’s much easier for him to save money.” What irked me the most was how calm he was, how he had an answer for everything without having to think twice. I didn’t know what to think. On one level it made sense. Some people preferred to spend their money on a nice car instead of living arrangements or savings.

  “Now, do you want to tell me how Bella is doing?” he asked like a concerned brother. I wasn’t buying his hot and cold act.

  “I didn’t speak to Bella,” I finally admitted, but the look in Mark’s eyes made me think he didn’t believe me or was suspicious of my intent.

  He sneered. “What do you mean? You either did or you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t. I just . . . I don’t know. You don’t seem to take our money situation seriously. I thought of calling your mom or your dad and getting them to speak to you. We are in serious shit, you realize that, right?” In that moment I wished I were as smooth as him. That I had better answers to goad him more and get to the truth. I didn’t.

  “I do,” he said, and his voice turned soft and understanding. He took a few steps closer to me and embraced me in a hug. My head was spinning. The feel of his arms around me felt like a noose holding me in place, reminding me he was bigger and stronger than I was. Is that what he’s doing now? Trying to prove I can’t win. He leaned his head back so he could look me in the eyes, as if he was assessing me. Like how much of his lies was I going to buy tonight. I had to be smart about my answers. “I don’t want you to worry. Your anxiety gets bad when you start to focus on our finances too much.” His words made me feel like a backdraft of fire ravaged me. I hated him, hated how much control he held over me, and I hated myself for allowing him to do it. He was trying to make me feel unstable again, but I wasn’t going to let him. In the past he came to me at the oddest of times like after I gave birth to Lily or when I was pregnant with Liam to discuss money trouble. What woman wouldn’t have a severe reaction when holding a newborn or stuck on bed rest with a second child. Right now, I was earning a decent living and paying most of the expenses to keep this family going. I didn’t need him. Somewhere deep inside me, I sill believed he would change, he’d come to his senses and be the man and father I needed him to be. My thoughts were messed up, but they made sense to me. Knowing what I knew about Mark, he wouldn’t let me and the kids leave easily. He would put up a fight and make my life a living hell. Play this right, Natalia.

  “You can share your problems with me. I’m good. I’m not anxious,” I said, but it looked like he didn’t believe me.

  “Okay. I want to share things with you,” he said and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. Bile rose in the back of my throat, and I had to fight it off. I couldn’t fight him. I kept believing he would change, whatever this was was just a bad moment in our lives, a hump in the road. “I should probably close the store,” he said, and in my mind I was chanting hallelujah. How did he not see that the store was putting us into debt every month? “I know I need to make some changes. Maybe I can drive Uber or something in my free time. I have a buddy doing it, and he said the money isn’t half bad.” He smiled at me. Was this a breakthrough? I didn’t know what to think. This was the problem, when he was being understanding or kind it made me hope these moments would last forever, and sometimes they lasted a week or two, and that small amount of time made hope sprout inside me.

  I smiled back. It would take eons for him to pay back that kind of debt from driving for a cab service. I was scared to mention that. If I did he would continue to complain about how negative I could be.

  “Great, Mark, but that won’t be enough to handle our debt. The credit cards have eighteen percent interest,” I reminded him. If I stuck to facts, maybe he wouldn’t flip.

  “One of them has eleven percent,” he corrected. Fucking great. I rolled my eyes in my mind. “I . . . well . . . I wasn’t going to bring this up tonight because it was my first night home, but I wanted to take the real estate exams, get my license.” The excitement in his voice was transparent. The Miami area was inundated with real estate agents, but I couldn’t tell Mark that.

  I held my breath. I thought we had one problem solved, but this idea came out of left field.

  “Um . . .”

  “It’s only sixty-five hours of class work, and it’s a legit job. It will be really good for us. I could make some real money and pay off the debt faster.”

  He had clearly given this more thought than I realized.

  “Great. A fresh start. Maybe that’s what we need.” I smiled and walked toward our bedroom.

  My insides were churning. I hated how I went from hating him one minute to having hope the next. Yet somehow he had me wrapped around his little finger, and he pulled my strings like a puppetmaster. I couldn’t believe he raised a hand to me. Hate for him bubbled inside me. What was I going to do? I didn’t see myself staying with a person who behaved so badly. Mark’s thoughts were all over the map, one minute he was closing the store, the next he’s driving a cab service, and then selling real estate. Maybe he was depressed or suffering some other mental illness. My mind flooded with possibilities. Then I thought of my children. This man, as crazy as he was acting, was their father. I felt responsible for him. What was I going to do? None of the options for work he mentioned guaranteed money, and was he really going to ask his brother Rafael for help?

  Mark followed me to bed. I allowed him to make love to me the way he knew how. He wasn’t an attentive lover, but in my mind I knew I had to give him me, my body. It would make everything seem okay between us. At least through his eyes. I needed him calm. I had to make sure we were working together for the sake of our family. At least until I found a way out of this situation. After faking an orgasm, I turned to my side of the bed and listened for Mark’s heavy breaths. Inside I was breaking down. Every time I let him touch me after we fought, it felt like part of me chipped off, and I was falling farther and farther away from the woman I remembered.

  Then I realized he hadn’t answered even one of my questions. He didn’t tell me about Irina, he didn’t explain how all that debt came to be, and I hadn’t really achieved much from my quick round of courage. What I did know was that I would have to find a way of getting in touch with Bella so I could ask her some questions about Mark or possibly his family. My mention of her name had struck a chord. I’d never seen him so worked up before. Problem was, she always called his cell once a year and asked to speak with the kids, so I didn’t have her number. Bella must have some answers about my husband, because after being with him for over twelve years, he wasn’t the man I fell in love with. Behind his quiet and calm demeanor was anger, secrets. Still waters run deep. I couldn’t believe he actually raised a hand to me. He didn’t strike. It isn’t the same as an actual hit. Or maybe it is the same. My reality came crashing down on me. Did I fall in love with a version of him I wanted him to be, or had my husband created that façade? If that night taught me one thing it was that I didn’t know my husband. He had secrets, and I needed to know what they were.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Natalia

  Days passed as they usually did, only something was different. I was different. The last few weeks had been eye opening and not in a good way. My husband ha
d secrets. Most days I tried to think of the past. Had I missed something? How did I manage to fall head over heels in love for a man who could behave that way? My mind often went back to the days before Mark proposed. I didn’t know he was going to propose. It had been unexpected, maybe because I was still the girl who didn’t believe happily ever after existed. It was my last year of college. My friends were all heading home for the Christmas break. Mark had come by my dorm.

  There he stood, devilishly handsome. His warm chocolate brown eyes raked over every inch of my body, and I saw the heat flare in them. He had a way of making me feel wanted. When we were together his attention was solely for me. It felt nice. My parents hadn’t given Matt and me much attention growing up. They were always absorbed by work and socializing. Our nanny, Ms. Rudemaker, was an older woman who cooked meals and cleaned, but she wasn’t very talkative. With my brother gone, Mark filled a void in my life.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. I wasn’t expecting him tonight. Immy and I planned a quiet night in, watching movies, when he showed up unexpectedly at our door. She urged me to go ahead. I did.

  “Just for a drive. Is that okay?” he asked, rocking back and forth on his heels. He seemed a little nervous. Before I answered, he said, “Maybe grab a sweater or jacket; it’s a cool night.” I grabbed the warmest jacket I had since December could be a cool month in LA.

  We got into Mark’s Mustang. It was a older black model that roared to life when he started the engine, a badass car. The idea of my parents seeing me with a guy who drove a car like that sent a surge of adrenaline through my body every time. I shouldn’t have wanted to intentionally piss them off, but I was angry. My dad was a cheater who broke up our family my senior year of high school. I was also upset they hadn’t done more to help my brother, and I was fuming they didn’t call his death what it was, a suicide, even though a full investigation had been conducted and the report stated exactly that. My parents hadn’t intended for me to see the report, but my mother ran off to work one morning in a rush and left the manila envelope on the kitchen counter. I couldn’t not read it.