The Millionaire's Secret by jewel crotan (beach read book TXT) 📖

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 heard 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?”

 “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