The Millionaire's Secret

by Susan Stevens

  “I have to change everything,” she said to Rick one night as they were sitting in the living room. The only other one who knew about the situation, she felt like he was a confidant. Rick as quiet and with his outside point of view, often pointed out things she and Adam had missed. But mostly, she enjoyed staying up late into the night, talking to Rick about everything and nothing. He had a lot to offer, although it took hours to drag it out of him. She knew he had a history of depression, but listening to him describe what he went through was heart breaking. It made her own problems seem miniscule in proportion. She felt close to him, felt a bond she had not felt before. After all, he was her brother in law, and for the first time, she embraced it. He was an older brother to chat to, who offered advice that wasn’t tangled with romantic feelings, and she appreciated it. Rick, she would miss when she finally flew the coop. “My passport, my driver’s licence, everything. A legal name change the first time was hard enough, and now we do it all over again.”

  “You still use a stage name,” he said, after a moment. “You may not have to do a legal name change. An assumed name is good enough to change documents.”

  “Really?” she asked. “Isn’t that so much easier too?”

  “Yes, I can get you the paperwork, if you wish,” he said, fiddling with a couch cushion and letting out a long sigh. “It’s something to occupy the time.”

  She glanced at him, taking in his pallor. Not so long ago, she would have offered someone in his position ‘something to take the edge off’. But tonight, the thing nearest to her hand was the TV remote and not a syringe. And she was flying high off a great rehearsal day. She didn’t feel like walking all the way upstairs and clouding her mind. So instead, she flicked on the TV.

  “Want to watch Spiderman?” she asked, finding the movie channel. He smiled, and she realized it was the first time she had seen him smile. Much like his brother, it was bright and wide, and although it didn’t reach his eyes, it was a start. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  “Why not,” he sank deeper into the couch cushions. “Sleep eludes me, of late.”

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Behati replied, drawing her long legs under her, and leaning against the arm rest. “And that won’t be for years.” She yawned, and Rick glanced at her.

  “I hope not.”

  “Yeah,” she said, mostly to herself. “Me neither.”

  She was about to make a Spiderman joke to him at the dinner table one night, when Evangeline cleared her throat.

  “Who are you boys bringing to the ball tomorrow night?”

  Behati continued to cut her steak, her mind thinking about the rehearsal she had tomorrow, as they muttered answers. With their mother back in town, and pushing her way constantly into the office work, it was like they all regressed 10 years. She actually witness Evangeline scream at Liam, who was 3 weeks shy of 26, to go to his room. It would be amusing if it wasn’t so pathetic.

  “Adam?” she asked, and the heads at the table split their attention between Adam and Behati. She didn’t expect him to say anything at all. His newest trick was ignoring his mother, which seemed to work. Adam was head of the family, CEO of the business, and had a weight on him that was constantly growing.

  “Behati, of course.”

  Every jaw at the table fell open, some exposing their food. Not only had they never discussed this, the Katz ball was going to be a highly photographed and published events. In the words of lame tabloids, everyone who was everyone would be there. It would be full of rich and snooty guests, trying to outdo each other with better gowns and bigger jewels, and discussing business in stock market short hand. It was not Behati’s kind of party, and she expected she would need more than one drug to get her through it.

  But more than that, she and Adam simply did not go places together that were published. It was an unspoken agreement, from long ago. Neither would benefit Fromm each other’s company in their circles, and so they just didn’t do it. They were used to dates at home, with the bed not far away, or hotel bars that ended in elevator make out sessions, the clothes flying. He didn’t bring her flowers, she didn’t swoon at his touch, that was just the way it was.

  And yet, a shiver of anticipation went down her spine when he said that.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Evangeline said, and Adam calmly put down his fork.

  “And tell me, Mother, which part is me being stupid?”

  “You can’t bring her,” Evangeline said, as if Behati wasn’t in the room. She might as well have not been, from the shock that ran through her mind. She felt like she was having an out of body experience, like she was watching herself in this situation. Liam put down his napkin, settling back beside her.

  “This should be good,” he whispered.

  “Easy for you to say,” she hissed back, and reached under the table to take his hand. If ever she needed the support of her brothers in law, it was now.

  Evangeline looked like flames were going to start coming out of her eyes.

  “Because, Adam, Behati is not…she…”

  “She’s what, Mother? Or rather, what is she not?” Adam asked. “Because you asked who I was bringing to the ball and I gave you an answer. I don’t see what is so complicated about that.”

  “Adam!” She sputtered, horrified, and he raised an eyebrow.

  “But if you must have a reason, because I, somehow, in my thirties, my late thirties mind you, after running this company for 10 years on my own, and taking care of my brothers, your children, while you jet setted around the world, I must somehow justify my every move to you. So I will give you several reasons and perhaps they will satisfy you. On her own, Behati is a beautiful woman, full of elegance and poise, which she must have, to be a dancer. A very successful dancer, mind you, who is known around the world for her talent and skill. Since I have known her, there is not one stage she has failed to light up, and not one move she has failed to perform, no matter what her personal circumstances off stage. She is a young woman who has overcome great obstacle, when lesser women, and men mind you, would have given up. She has never asked me for anything, outside of one thing. Never money, or fortune or fame, or anything this family could have granted her. Everything that she has, she has because I offered or she has gained on her own. But on top of that,” he stood, throwing his napkin over his still full plate. “On top of that, Mother, and this is very simple, so see if you can wrap your head around it. I am bringing her to the ball, because she is my wife. And she has been for 10 years now. Is that a good enough reason?”

  Behati could have heard a pin drop in the room. Her head spun and she thought she might pass out. Slowly, like a robot, she looked around the table at the shocked expressions. Liam had a half smirk on his face, as if he were amused by his brother’s outburst. Evangeline looked like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, then and there. Rick turned to Behati, as if she could clear up everything. Keith grinned.

  “Cool. I have a sister in law. Good for you, Adam. What’s for dessert?”

  “Wedding cake,” Adam said, holding out his hand. “Come, wife. Shall we to bed?”

  Behati scraped her chair back in the silence, and reached out to take his outstretched arm. They walked out of the dining room in silence.

  It wasn’t until they were in Adam’s bedroom that either of them spoke.

  “Am I tripping out?” she asked him. “Or did you just do that?”

  He sat on the bed, letting out a long breath. His hands were trembling, and he gripped them together in a fist.

  “It had to be done. I couldn’t take it anymore. I’ve spoken to her numerous times about insulting you. It’s just not becoming.”

  The ballerina shrugged, sitting in a chair across the room.

  “She’s right, though. All the things she calls me are true. I’m common, and a harlot, I’m trashy, I dress like a streetwalker. I know, it doesn’t shock me, I see those things in the mirror. They don’t bother me, Adam. I know who I am.”

  “Th
e names you were called today may be how you define yourself,” he said. “But the name I called you is also part of it. You are my wife, and you will get the respect that title deserves. Perhaps even after it is no longer true.”

  “Right,” she curled her legs up under her, and picked at the chair. “I guess you have to take me to the ball now.”

  He laughed, shakily.

  “I guess there’s no way out of it. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “No,” she said. “I still have a vacation day from rehearsal I can use.”

  “I know it’ll be terribly boring, my dear,” he apologized. “You don’t have to stay the whole time.”

  “It’s alright,” she replied, with a shrug. “I don’t mind.”

  On a whim, she unfolded her legs, and went to sit beside him. Their hands joined, as if by magnetic force, and her face was inches from his.

  Their lovemaking was always swift, and forceful. It was never slow, never passionate and filled with sweet nothings. But as they kissed, she forced herself to slow down, to enjoy the delayed gratification as his hands slowly explored her body, as if for the first time.

  The first time had been in his hotel room, after one too many drinks, and with the knowledge that it was wrong, that it couldn’t be. In Latvia, she was 16 and a legal adult, the age of consent allowing her to love him all she wanted. But she didn’t want to, not then.

  Now, she wanted to take things slow. She wanted it to last all night, his eyes locked on hers and he slid off her dress, and ran his hands over her toned body. The minutes ticked by and turned into hours and they pressed skin on skin, moaned and were lost in ecstasy. She didn’t watch the clock, wondering when she could escape, meet her dealer, find her next stash.

  There had been other men, who she had used for power, for money, for drugs. Other men who she had hinted for gifts, for cash, for anything her heart desired. But as Adam had said, she had never asked for anything with him. Even the marriage had been his idea, whispered gently as she shook with fear about what would happen to her.

  This time, after they were finished, she didn’t run off to her own room, eager to stretch out on her own blankets and have her own space. Instead, she cuddled up, curling her body around him as only a dancer could do. She laid her head on a crevice in his shoulder, thinking how perfectly she fit, and ran her long fingers over his smooth, broad chest.

  He brought a lean muscular arm around her, holding her clothes, as he idly ran a hand through her hair.

  “That was nice,” he said, after a few minutes.

  “Yeah,” her breath was still coming in gasps, the ecstasy making her see stars. She rarely saw stars without her needles, but it seemed lately, there were natural ways to replace the highs she sought. Of course, she still craved her substances, still wanted them day after day. But not so much, and not so often. Spiderman with Rick had made her delay her normal dose a full four hours, and this epic lovemaking session had made her forget completely about what was waiting for her in her room. “Not a bad end to such a good outburst.”

  “Oh, Behati,” he said, rubbing her back. “I don’t know what came over me. One too many glasses of wine, I think.”

  She raised her head.

  “I remember what one too many drinks led to last time. Or rather, the first time. And that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “No,” he said, after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “It wasn’t so bad. It was rather good, actually.”

  She lay her head back down, closing her eyes. She was exhausted, and she could feel sleep taking her, safe and warm in Adam’s arms.

  “Good,” she replied, as she drifted off. Her room was so far away, and she was so comfortable and warm here. Perhaps the dose could wait, just awhile. Just a little bit longer.

  CHAPTER 7

  It was the most beautiful gown that she had ever seen in her life, and she had seen a lot of beautiful gowns. Designers often fell all over themselves to outfit ballet companies, which often needed fantasy gowns. But this one settled somewhere in between fantasy and reality, and suited her perfectly.

  It had a full tulle skirt, in white, and a sweet heart neckline, in black. Each piece was embodied with jewels and diamonds in the opposite colour. It was a dress that cost more than the National Ballet paid her in a week, and it fit her perfectly. When she opened it, gift wrapped on her bed, she fell in love. How Adam had found it and got it fitted without even telling her was a mystery, but he did it right.

  Her favourite part, however, was not the dress, but the tiara that set on top of it. Done in a Celtic style and meant to sit on top of her head, it was like a crown.

  “Because you are my Queen, “he said, the morning of the ball. “At least, for a little while longer.”

  “Mmm,” she didn’t acknowledge the comment, really, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Aside from dancing, she usually didn’t wear long skirt, or anything that came below her thigh. The neckline was high cut, and her eyes trailed to her arms, which held the ever present evidence of drug use. Their eyes met in the mirror, both of them looking at the bruises and track marks. For the box, Adam pulled a tight black sheer shrug, with an understanding glance.

  “Thank you,” she replied, putting it on. Now the look was complete. “For all of this. For everything. Now, hopefully your mother doesn’t have a secret plan to assassinate me when we come down the stairs tonight.”

  “She will accept you, my dear, “ he said, although he didn’t sound very convincing. She sighed, finally able to blurt out the question that had been burning on her tongue the whole time.

  “Adam, why have you not told them about the divorce?”

  He tried to ignore the question, moving her hair out the way to leave her shoulders bare.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Adam!” She turned around impatiently. “You told them we are married and yet you neglected to mention a few little details. Why?”

  He shrugged.

  “I just don’t mention things until it’s set. You know how much trouble we are having with the paperwork. Perhaps it’s best to wait until it’s a done deal. I don’t necessarily feel like airing the circumstances of our marriage.”

  She sighed, shaking her head.

  “You are a strange man, husband.”

  “As strange as you are beautiful, wife,” he said, giving her a kiss on the head. “I have some things to attend to. I’ll see you tonight?”

  “Sure,” Behati’s eyes darted towards her desk drawer, where her needles were. She had been better, at least she had been trying to, but she needed courage to get through the night, to deal with his mother, with the level of etiquette the party required. Adam’s eyes followed hers, and he took a step forward.

  “Behati…”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tonight,” she said, not looking at him. She didn’t want to tell him that this particular shipment that she had was one directly from Maurice’s line, it had his symbol on the baggie and everything. It was probably thanks to his delivery that she was able to buy it. Life would have been easier if she could have cut out the dealer, the middle man, all together, but she had a feeling he would lose it if she asked directly.

  She really had been doing better, and she almost fought the temptation to use it as he exited the room. If she hadn’t practically shoved him out the door, perhaps he could have stayed longer, they could have chatted, or kissed with knee weakening passion. Perhaps he could have taken her out for lunch or to a movie before the big night.

  But it was the drugs she had a date with, not her soon to be ex- husband.

  Outside the door, leaning against it, Adam heard the sounds of the bag opening, of her sigh as the drugs entered her veins. He knew exactly what she was going to do, and he couldn’t come up with a reason to stop her. He had no control, no hold over her, no reason to tell her what to do. After all, hadn’t he spent his whole marriage making it clear that he didn’t care about her?

  But as he h
eard her lie on the bed, the creak of the bed springs as the chemicals in her veins sent her into a false high, he wondered why he didn’t break down the door, tell her to stop.

  And somewhere, all around the country, girls just like her were doing the same thing while people that they loved stood by, helpless, thanks to his shipments.

  Their deals with Maurice were growing, and their bank accounts had never been so fat. The money that they made was invested and put into other projects, legal projects, projects to try and clear his soul. They made headlines twice for large donations to charity, and once for making a million over night in a smart investment. They had never flown higher, or been more successful.

  But with the fame, came downfalls, of course. There were rumors of their work with Maurice, and other black market deals, some of them true and some of them not. There were, for the first time, photographs of Keith coming to and from school, which made Adam see red. He had tried his hardest, especially after his father died, to keep Keith out of the media’s wrath as long as possible. But with these recent developments it was hard to.

  He had been away on business four days out of six so far this week, leaving Behati alone to deal with the divorce paperwork, or worse, his mother. It bothered him, that all he could do was make a long distance phone call once in awhile to try and assist her.

  And of course, there was the pure fact that the stress of keeping such a deal under wraps was weighing on him. The money was great, but perhaps not so great that it was worth it.

  Going down the stairs, to head out for his meeting, he called for Rick, who was supposed to join him. To his surprise he found his brother sitting in a living room chair, grinning at his phone. It was not that he was looking at his phone or in the living room that was shocking, but the fact that he was smiling, especially of his own accord.

  “What’s so funny?” Adam asked, as he slipped on his coat, and handed his brother’s over. “We robbed another client blind?”