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

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.”

 “The 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 seven

  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