The Millionaire's Secret

by Susan Stevens

  “No, it’s this video that Behati forwarded to me,” Rick handed over his phone as he put on his coat. It was a ballerina accident on stage that had a domino effect, including knocking over the conductor. Adam smirked as they went out the door.

  “I hope that I never see that at one of her shows.”

  “I do, it would liven things up,” Rick watched it one more time, chuckling and then put it back in his pocket. Adam gave his brother a rueful glance as they opened the car doors.

  “You’re in a good mood today.”

  Rick shrugged.

  “It’s a momentary bright spot.”

  “Do you like her?” Adam asked, as he started the engine. “Behati?”

  Rick shrugged.

  “Sure, well enough.”

  “No, I mean,” Adam took a corner. “I know she’s pretty, I know she’s funny, I know she’s adventurous. But as my wife, do you like her?”

  Rick glanced at him.

  “That’s kind of up to you, isn’t it, Brother? But you know I support whatever you choose.”

  Adam sighed as they stopped at a red-light.

  “She made you smile. More than once. That warms my heart, at least. Even I cannot get you to do that.” He felt like a failure as a brother, but it was the truth. When their father died, he had taken on the bulk of the responsibility, and had been so blinded by all of it that he had neglected Rick. He had been so busy ordering him about and relying on him, as usual, that he didn’t catch the hole his brother had fallen in. Rick had not turned to drugs, or alcohol, luckily, but it was still a hard journey that Adam sometimes wondered if he would ever recover from.

  “Adam,” Rick said, softly. “It’s not you. Or anyone. You know that. It’s me. It’s inside my head, a blackness I cannot fight.”

  “But my wife makes you smile,” Adam replied, softly. “And that’s one good reason to have her around.”

  “Yes, perhaps,” Rick muttered, looking out the window. “At the very least, it’ll be amusing to see her out dance everyone at the ball tonight.”

  “Yes,” Adam answered. “It’ll be quite a sight.”

  The sight, however, did not start with her dancing that night. No one could take their eyes off the beautiful redhead as he descended down the stairs with her on his arm. She looked like a Princess, a Queen, a dazzling jewel among dab colours and weather beaten faces. She shone, and no one was scandalized by her. Behati was softer than usual, keeping her tongue in check and actually thinking about what she had to say. When she could come up with nothing appropriate, she smiled and let Adam take over the conversation. Adam wouldn’t have minded if she did interject once in awhile with some of her witty yet inappropriate remarks. Although people seemed to be having a good time, he caught a few yawns and blank stares.

  He danced with Behati, in full view of everyone, spinning her around the dance floor and listening to her wild laughter. She was happy, safe in his arms, and pulling him through a series of movements that left him sore the second they got off the dance floor to get a drink.

  “I don’t know how you do that, everyday,” he said, as he sipped champagne. It was cold, crisp and sharp, and it quenched his thirst instantly.

  “Practice, stamina,” she replied, with a shrug. “Takes awhile to build up is all.”

  “Well, you’ll have to teach me,” he said.

  Behati raised an eyebrow.

  “It takes years of practice, Adam, almost daily, at least weekly.”

  “I know,” he answered, calmly. “And you’ll have to teach me.”

  “Adam,” she interjected, and then he kissed her, in the middle of the grand ballroom.

  It felt like everywhere was melting away, like the ground had opened up and swallowed up all the other guests, and they were the only two people left in the whole room. He put his hand on the back of her head, pressing gently so that their kiss was deep and tight. She let her body melt against his, and she was lost in the kiss, in the passion, in the love.

  In the love. That was not something she had ever thought about when she kissed him. But as they pulled away, hazel eyes meeting green, she knew that there was something different. There was an intense weight on her chest, pressing against her heart. It was fear and it was panic, but the longer she looked into his eyes, she knew that it would be alright.

  “I love you,” he said it first, breathing it so softly she almost didn’t hear him. She felt tongue tied, strangled. Men had said that to her before, of course, especially after moments of passion, high on sex and chemicals. But this was the first time she knew it was real.

  “Adam,’ she said, trying to think logically.

  Everyone was staring at them, except for Keith, who was walking straight over to them, a mixture of confusion and fear on his face.

  “Adam?” he asked. “I know this is totally a bad moment, but a man named Maurice just called me on my cell phone? He wants to know what the ‘next step’ is.”

  “He should not be calling you,” Adam replied, pulling Behati close to him. With a glance around, he summoned his brothers close to him. It didn’t take much, seeing as they were all staring at him, open mouth. His mother, who happened to be on the staircase when he kissed his ballerina, descended downwards in a fit of rage. Adam silenced her with one glance.

  “As you can see, things have clearly changed around here,” he said, once they were all gathered around him. “Since I brought Behati home, we have both made a fortune and lost everything. Maurice called Keith, something we never want to happen. No, Keith, hush,” he said, silencing his younger brother’s protests as well. “But it’s more than threatening this family’s safety that has come to my mind. We have been so involved in doing business, in making money, that we have not stopped to consider who we have hurt. Standing in front of you is evidence of the drugs we have shipped, evidence of the destruction that we do,” he pulled Behati even closer, kissing her head and surprised to find tears coming to both their eyes. He had thought that she would be angry at exposing her, but her body slumped with relief as she buried her face in his chest. “Father left us to control this company on our own, and always encouraged us to follow our hearts; make our own choices, even if we regret them, it’s best we learn from them. So you can all continue if you want. But if this business continues to deal with Maurice and his likes, I will no longer be a part of it. I would rather have Behati, alive and well, and know we are not doing harm to the world, than all the fortune that comes with it.”

  “Adam,” his mother snapped, her face darkening. “How could you try to ruin the empire that your father built?”

  “I am not ruining anything,” he said, looking into Behati’s eyes. “For 10 years, I’ve lived a lie and I refuse to do it any longer.” He looked up to his brothers. “So?”

  “For 10 years, you have led us,” Rick said, sounding strong and confident for the first time in years. “And I will follow you now.”

  “And I,” Liam said, without a shadow of a doubt.

  “Then Keith,” Adam turned to his youngest brother, a small smile on his face. “Are you also ready to follow us?”

  “Me? Really?” Keith’s face lit up. “Yes. What can I do?”

  “Call Maurice back and tell him to throw himself in a river. We’re done with him. And when you’re finished, I have a list of others that you can call,” Adam replied. He then turned his head to his mother, who seemed to have calmed down a bit. “And you Mother? Do you really think this is what father wanted?”

  “Will you really throw all this,” she gestured to the ballroom. “Away? For her?”

  “Not for her,” Adam replied, calmly. “For us. She is my wife, mother. Just as you were Father’s wife, a poor girl from across the world, who he flew overnight to scoop up and marry. Your own romance will forever live on. But will you let mine do so?”

  His mother opened and closed her mouth a few times, debating what to say. That was supposed to never be spoken of, what she was before she married his father. She h
ad worked hard to erase that part of her life, to become someone that she was proud of today. No one was ever supposed to know about the three jobs she worked as a teenager, the hand me downs she wore or the skirts she sewed until they fell apart. And she remembered her own disapproving mother in law, who she worked so hard to please, but never did. She had earned her place in this family, in this ballroom, with four sons to be proud of.

  Adam’s words were genuine, and Behati had never looked more beautiful and pure, even with the mascara trailing down her cheeks.

  “Just as your father and I had to make our path,” she said, slowly. “You have to make yours. You have to prove yourself.”

  “And we will,” Adam replied. Behati looked up at him, having remained mute this whole time. “What do you say, love? Shall we give it a try?”

  “I…” she stuttered, unconfident and afraid. “So much pressure, Adam. I’ve never loved anyone.”

  “Do you love me?” he asked, simply and she squeezed his hand, looking up into his face. 10 years was a long time to be with someone already, and this was not the same smooth faced business man she had tumbled into bed with. Adam was weather beaten and battle weary. Age and time had not been kind to him and he was not the usual boyfriend found on the arm of a beautiful ballerina. They were usually young and strong, dancers or performers themselves, with well sculpted faces and high cheek bones. But they did not tell the dancers sweet things in their ears, did not stand up in front of their entire families and sing their love. They did not offer them homes like this, and opportunities for whatever their hearts desired. They were not her husband.

  “Yes,” she replied, at last. “I love you.”

  “Then let’s give it a shot, shall we?” he asked, again and leaned down to kiss her. She didn’t have a chance to say yes because his lips were on hers, but it was implied, by the way her body reacted. She loved him.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Katz,” their case worker said, when they walked into her office at the Latvian consulate a week after the ball. “I was just about to call you. I need a final signature and your divorce will be finalized.”

  “Really?” Behati said, with a grin. “Because you thoroughly had us convinced that we weren’t married in the first place.”

  “That’s not what I said,” the caseworker replied, a bit annoyed. “I said you shouldn’t have been married, legally, but you clearly found a loop hole to do so. So now that we cleared that up, if you can just sign here, than we can…”

  “What do you think, Adam?” Behati asked, with a smirk. “Shall we divorce just to get married again?”

  “The sight of you in a white dress would be quite appealing,” Adam replied, smiling at his wife, and then switching his glance to the case worker. “Please give me the paperwork, I will keep it in a safe place. But for now, Mrs. Katz and I have decided to give things another shot.”

  “What?” Their case worker looked like she wanted to strangle them. “After all that?”

  “Weren’t you the one who encouraged us to get counselling in the first place?” Adam asked, taking the paper work from her desk. “Clearly it worked.”

  “You went to counselling?” she asked, shocked.

  “Uh, no. We just tried a new approach. No more secrets, for one,” he said, folding it and placing it inside his suit jacket. “Thank you for all your help. We will contact you if we need, although I hope that we don’t.”

  He took Behati’s hand and they left the office before something could be thrown at them. Behati giggled as they headed back to the truck. She was always in a good mood in the mornings, the methadone coursing through her system.

  It had been her that suggested an outpatient treatment program first, before they tried anything more drastic, and Adam had been more than happy to comply, whatever she needed. She was dancing the lead in Kulanu in the evenings, a show he had yet to see. It meant for a busy schedule, but also meant that they had days free for themselves. She had wanted to be by his side continuously, so she had attended any meetings he had, including the dismissal of Maurice. It had all been very civil, especially for a drug lord. But it turned out Maurice had a soft spot and a wife he had loved very much in his youth. So, although he made a few lewd comments about Behati, he had let them go with minimal trouble.

  Tonight, Adam had plans to see her show, sitting front row, alone, much as he had the first night that they met.

  “Well, I’m glad that’s over with,” Behati said. “Although not quite the way I planned it when I landed here.”

  “And you’ll have to return, at some point, to Latvia,” he said, and she turned to him.

  “Yeah, about that. I talked to them about the extension of a loan, and it turns out, a loan extension of y services out runs my contract.”

  “Hmm?” he asked, as he started the car.

  “The last contract I signed with Latvia was for 3 years, and that runs out next week. SO technically…”

  “You don’t have to go anywhere,” he said, piecing it together. “Behati, I don’t want you to make that kind of choice, especially for me. You love to dance.”

  “And I’m 27, and I can’t dance forever,” she reminded him. “But it’s more than that. They were restricting me. Fame aside, the stuff I’m doing with Kulanu is much more interesting. I would much rather be doing stuff like that the rest of my life than do swan lake for the hundredth time. Mind you, the money is not as good.”

  “What do you have need of money for?” he asked her, softly. “You are a Katz now, free and clear. You will want for nothing. Is that what stopped you before?”

  “I don’t want to take anything from you,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

  “But it’s my pleasure,” he answered. “To take care of my wife. Anyways, you won’t be taking anything from me. My father set up a trust fund for our wives, as soon as it had happened. Technically, you should have had money 10 years ago. So I’m sure there’s quite a back log.”

  “Adam,” she rolled her eyes. “That’s so…rich people.”

  “It is,” he answered, with a laugh. “But that’s what it is. So if money has stopped you from performing the kind of dance you want, than you need not worry any longer.”

  “Any other secrets you want to tell me?” she teased him, as they cruised down the road.

  “Just that I love you,” he said, glancing at her. “And I’ve been quite a fool to deny it all this time.”

  “That’s not a secret,” she answered. “ I think I’ve loved you this whole time as well. I just was afraid of doing it.”

  “Well, you don’t need to be afraid any longer. How are you feeling my dear? Do you want some lunch?”

  “Lunch would be wonderful,” she said, delighting in the impromptu date they could have now.

  That night, as he dressed for the theatre, Behati already back stage somewhere, he realized his heart was beating fast with anticipation. He hadn’t been excited about seeing her, up until now. But he felt an immense sense of pride as he took his seat in the front row, the lights dimming.

  The first night he had seen her, he had been enchanted, much as now. But things were different, then. That first night, when he sat in the seat, his suit had been a day old, his schedule not allowing him for sleep. He had gone to the ballet for a break, looking for somewhere he could be anonymous in the dark. He had been exhausted, and more than a little drunk on pre-show champagne. His mind had been constantly turning over possibilities for the company and was still struggling with the grief of his father’s death. He was lost and he didn’t know how to be found.

  He fully believed it was that it was the show that had saved him from falling into the same hole as Rick. As the young ballerina danced across the stage, he had forgotten all that bothered him, lost in the music and letting it carry him through the story. Behati was beautiful, pure and like a princess as she danced.

  Tonight was a different kind of show. There were hip hop moves, circus moves, and ballet faux p
as. It was Le Traviata, a classic story redone in a strip club. His wife, spinning on the brass pole, captured the whole audience, and brought a cry of amazement as she back flipped to land en Pointe, in a pirouette. Her tone body was on display, and 10 years ago, he would have been scandalized by this kind of theatre. But now, he saw the originality in it, the risk and the talent, and he was blown away.

  But in Le Traviata, he also saw the mirroring of his own story. The young and beautiful courtesan, who was shunned by high society, falling in love with the upper-class nobleman, all the while hiding the fact that she was dying inside. In Le Traviata, it had been changed to AIDS, but Adam could see just as easily how it could have been drugs that took Behati away from him.

  On stage tonight, she was still thin, still had the faint scars on her arms, but she looked healthier than she had when she arrived, and certainly happier.

  Half her costume was her own, it was that kind of theatre, and he smiled in memory of the night she had modeled half a dozen outfits, in lingerie and not much more, asking what he preferred. And he had told her plainly, that he liked them all and much better than her usual leotard. It was time for a change in the Katz household, and it started with her.

  At intermission, unable to be away from her any longer, he snuck backstage, navigating the underground corridors to find her dressing room.

  Pushing it open, he found her facing the mirror. She jumped at his presence, and for one heart stopping moment, he thought the object in her hand was a needle, that she was falling back into her own ways. But it turned out that she held a chopstick, and was trying to hastily eat in between shows.

  “My dear, you were radiant,” he said, as he had said the first night, and handed over a bouquet of red roses. She took them gratefully, pushing her food aside to lay them in front of the mirror.

  “Thanks, I wasn’t sure if you would like it.”

  “I like anything with you in it,” he replied, reaching into his pocket. “Although I do have a suggestion for the second act.”