The Millionaire's Secret by jewel crotan (best romantic novels to read TXT) 📕

 “Don’t we all have secrets,” he snarled at her, and reached to roughly roll up her sleeve. “I could ask you the same thing, Princess.”

 She pulled away.

 “You’re working with Maurice? Adam, what the hell is wrong with you? That man is a monster!”

 “And how would you know?” he spat. “Unless you’ve also been in contact with him. For different reasons, I assume.”

 “What I do isn’t any of your business,” she replied. “And we agreed on that from day 1.”

 “And my business isn’t yours, you made that clear. What is it you are really here to take, Behati? Is it a divorce you seek because there could be money that comes with it? So much money, I imagine. Half of 10 years income is a lot.”

 “No,” she looked appalled at this. “Your fortune has never interested me, Adam.”

 He made a face.

 “Such a good and faithful wife, aren’t you. Only interested in my citizenship.”

 “Why,” she demanded. “Has this become a fight. And when did this become something it’s not?”

 “What is it not?” he asked, and she looked like she wanted to throw a chair at him.

 “This is not a real marriage, this is not a love affair. And this certainly isn’t a tough love situation. We knew those things when we went in, and you made it quite clear the whole time that you didn’t love me, that you could never love me. So why am I standing her being screamed at?”

 He sputtered at that, trying to find an answer.

 “I didn’t say that I never cared for you. And if you never cared for me, why do you care whether I’m shot in a back alley? Maurice is good money, Behati, more money than you can ever dream of. And that’s all it is, business. It’s not personal.”

 “Like this marriage,” she replied, with crossed arms.

 “Like this marriage,” he echoed, although it was less convincing.

 They stood there, their chests heaving and arms crossed for quite some time before he finally spoke again. Outside, he could hear his brothers throwing out the TV crew, Amy protesting all the way. He knew this was going to be a nightmare to handle. And not so long ago, he would have been out there with him. But at the moment, he felt his priority was in front of him, living and breathing.

 “If it’s money you need, to get help…” he started, and she glared at him.

 “I don’t need help. Aren’t you all high and mighty, suggesting I need help when it’s people like you who are helping fuel the situation.”

 “What?” this comment didn’t make any sense to him.

 “What do you think you’re doing, Adam, working with Maurice? Do you think that the bags your transport go off to some happy land with rainbows and fairies? Some land where no one exists to take it and snort it, or liquefy it into their veins? You’re bringing it to people like me, so we can have a god-damn good time and not travel half way around the world to get it. You’re not on some moral high ground, your highness, you are on the floor with the rest of us.”

 Adam choked. He hadn’t expected such a speech to come out of her. And he certainly hadn’t thought about it that way before. But it was true, wasn’t it. He hadn’t thought about where the shipments were going, or who they were going to. For all he knew, they were coming full circle and going right back into Behati’s veins.

 The thought of her exchanging money, with Maurice or any of his associates, made his skin crawl. And she didn’t have that much money to begin with, he had seen her bank accounts. He knew how much the drugs cost, which made him wonder if she was exchanging any other favours. It made him physically shiver and he felt his stomach threaten to turn over, imagining this.

 People like Maurice had made her the way she was, collapsing on bathroom floors, finding true love with needles and energy from chemicals. People like Maurice, and people like him.

 “Behati,” he said, stepping forward, his voice soft. She waived her hand.

 “Forget it.”

 “No, Behati, I…”

 Her cell phone chose that moment to ring, annoyingly. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she realized she hadn’t turned it off for the shoot. It rang again and they both looked at it, the silence between them roaring. Finally, Adam spoke.

 “Answer it.”

 She thought about not doing it, defying him just for the sake of it. But glancing at her phone, she saw that it was an American number. She wondered if it could be her supplier, with a fresh shipment. Behati snorted slightly at the thought that actually, a supplier was standing right in front of her, in a well tailored suit.

She brought the phone to her ear, daggers in her eyes.

 “Hello?”

 “Hello, can I speak to Behati please?” came a female voice.

 “This is she?” Behati said, wondering if their epic fight was going to be interrupted by a telemarketer.

 “Behati, my name is Terri Turner, I’m the casting director for Kulanu.”

 “Oh, hi,” she replied, surprised. She didn’t think the Kulanu audition had gone very well. She was so used to traditional theatre, that the experimental dance movements through her for a loop. Her soul craved performance like that, but she ached for a full two days after the audition.

 “Behati, we were all very impressed with your audition, and your resume, of course. We’ve contracted the Latvian National about your loan agreement, and we’d love to have you on stage with us for the run of the show, as our Prima Donna.”

 “Really?” she grinned, the tension disappearing from her body. “Actually?”

 “Is that a yes then?” Terri’s voice was pure and happy.

 “Yes, send me the details, but I probably accept,” Behati replied, stunned. While she knew they would be impressed with her resume, she wasn’t sure her outdated style was what they were looking for. They said their goodbyes and she turned to Adam, who was waiting patiently. “That was Kulanu. They want me as their prima donna.”

 “I suppose that means you’ll be staying here then,” he said, his body still rigid.

 “Uh…” Behati replied, having not thought that far. She felt euphoric, happy, as if everything was going to work out. She felt like she was floating on a cloud, and for once, it wasn’t about the chemicals. It was a natural high, of happiness and life.

 “Well, you’re welcome to,” he said, softening. “Congratulations, my dear.”

 They were interrupted by a cry from outside the door, and both turned.

 “Oh boys! I’m home! Where are my sons?”

 “Mother,” Adam said, and glanced at her. She stood stock still, wondering whether he wanted her to hide. “Come Behati. You thought things were bad before, you haven’t met mother yet.” And he took her wrist, and pulled her out into the hallway.

 Evangeline was everything that Adam had described and more. Overbearing, vain, and constantly in a struggle for power, she annoyed Behati for the moment she met her. She clearly did not approve of her oldest son being the ballerina, despite not knowing much about her. Apparently, it was enough for Evangeline to just look Behati over once and know everything about her. She had called her shameless, a hussy, trash, harlot and just about any other name in the book. It was clear that she thought Behati wasn’t good enough for her family, and that suited the ballerina just fine. They had made more progress in their divorce case. Their marriage had been 10 years after the fall of the Soviet union  , but the country was still in a process of rebirth. Their previously lost documents were starting to emerge, and it looked like, but the end of the week, they might have the proper paperwork needed, including their actual marriage certificate, to go through with a divorce. She would be free and clear of the Katz name before Kulanu went down.

 “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