The Millionaire's Secret
Read The Millionaire's Secret Online
Authors: Susan Stevens,Jasmine Bowen
by Susan Stevens & Jasmine Bowen
Published in Great Britain by:
LeadsClick
26 York Street
London
W1U 6PZ
Copyright 2013 - All Rights Reserved - Susan Stevens
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage or retrieval system without express written, dated and signed permission from the author.
“Ladies and Gentleman, direct from the Latvian National Ballet, please welcome their Prima Ballerina, Behati Dane!”
The audience quieted down, their attention turning to the stage, and the lights dimmed as the announcers voice boomed over the speaker system. This was the reason they had come, from far and close, had shelled out hundreds of dollars, to gaze upon her. Some in awe, some in lust, some in jealousy, but they had all come for her.
She took a gracious curtsey to the applause, and then listened for the music’s opening notes. Behati had been hearing that announcement made since she was 16 years old, when she promoted to principal dancer within the Latvian Ballet. The phone call that came the day after the auditions had made her whole year. But with the high of acceptance came the low of logistics. On a work visa from America, with only foster parents, and terrible ones at that, she was faced with a problem. Her work visa would run out eventually and as a minor on the run, the chances of getting anyone to sign for her to get the Latvian equivalent of a green card were slim to none, especially with the country already in chaos after the recent fall of the Soviet Union. If she could not find a way to get citizenship, she would not be able to stay in Latvia and her dance career that she dedicated her whole life to would fall apart. Behati was frantic, knowing her options were limited. She had been scouted at 11 from her community ballet school, one that was free to kids from low income families. Her foster parents at the time weren’t low income, but they did refuse to pay for anything. Behati learned early on not to rely on anyone but herself. But she also recognized her status as underage in the world, and knew that options available to adult dancers weren’t for her.
It seemed like fate that placed Adam in front of her. He was not the first older man she had slept with, and he wouldn’t be the last. Adam, with his expensive suits, and exotic tastes, who was a patron of the ballet, of anything to do with the arts. Behati’s red hair and huge eyes, combined with her talent, was too much for him, and it wasn’t long before they tumbled into bed. They were opposites in every way. She had safety pins in her leotards and rips in her tights, preferring thrift stores and vintage shops. Adam wouldn’t have anything to do with a suit that was under a thousand dollars, or a dinner that was under one hundred. A businessman with old money from London, with Latvian citizenship from his mother, he seemed to do everything and yet nothing. To do this day, Behati wasn’t clear as to what he did or how he made his money. She just knew that he had a lot of it.
The love affair continued for a year, interested in each other’s company, but never interested in anything beyond the bedroom chatter. It wasn’t love, there was no romance or flowers. Behati didn’t believe in love, not in a broken world that left her cold and where her own parents abandoned her. Adam had believed in love once, and never would again. His one true love had perished when he was not much older than Behati, and he had vowed to never again love. To lust, to care for, to even enjoy, but never to love again.
And so they made the perfect pair, the businessman with the beautiful ballerina on his arm. He was too old for her, 10 years at the time of their meeting separated them, but she had a wisdom in her eyes, and he enjoyed the raw humanity in her. She never asked him for anything, basking in the gifts he gave her, but preferring his company. Until the year was up, and the lady from HR came to her with an ultimatum.
“If you cannot find a way to stay, Behati, neither can we. Minors in the country, even gainfully employed, aren’t easy. Are you sure you can’t find your parents?”
And that was how Adam found her, on the bed that night, the papers surrounding her, and tears in her eyes. In a year, he had never seen such emotion in her eyes.
And so, he gave her the greatest gift of all. He took her to the court house and married her in a small ceremony, putting a ring on her finger, changing her name to his, and giving her citizenship.
It was a favour to her, and even during the ceremony, there was no love. The words were empty, the promises forgotten.
“I have no interest in any one else, my dear, and so you may bear my name as long as you need it,”
he had said, kissing her lightly as it was over.
“But my business here is over, and I must move on.”
They shared a residence for 3 more days as a married couple, before he packed up. Behati didn’t mind in the slightest. She had known their love affair wouldn’t last forever, love didn’t last forever. Adam was to travel the world, and they likely wouldn’t see each other again, unless they needed to. Unless the marriage had to be dissolved because one of them had fallen in love, an impossible circumstance.
At least, that was the plan. Behati continued to rise to fame, travelling the world and gracing stages that her superiors would have been awed by. Adam’s name often appeared in the Financial Times, in the business magazines, as one of the richest and most eligible bachelors in the world. When he had first arrived in Latvia, he was newly CEO of the family company, passed onto him after his father died. It was a burden he probably never expected to bear. His father had been healthy, and strong, and overbearing man who loved his slight wife with all his heart. It had been a shock for everyone, and yet, the show must go on. Adam had to seamlessly step into the role barely out of his funeral clothes and take over the company. He had his brothers to help him, and yet, it was a burden only he could bear.
The photos continued, each photo showing him more successful, happier, supposedly. And sometimes, when she saw them, she smiled, thinking of the secret she had once worn on her ring figure, of thee name on her passport.
They had meant to be separate for the rest of their lives, but their path crossed and then crossed again, until they found themselves in regular contact once again. When she came through down, she stayed at his mansion, populated by his younger brothers, who helped run the family business and provided entertainment on several different levels. There was no longing phone calls, no text messages filled with emotion, but they kept in touch.
But now, 10 years later, Behati felt like the charade had gone on long enough. He said that she should use it as long as she needed it, and that time had long passed. Even if no one knew except the authorities, she was still legally Behati Katz, and she decided it was high time to change that. She had a month after this performance, a month off that she had requested, to return home to Adam in America and wait for the Latvian consulate to dissolve their marriage.
At 27, she wasn’t quite as fluid as she was 17. Dancers had such a short performance career and she knew that hers wouldn’t last forever. She often wondered that, if she was auditioning now, rather than being cast off her name, what would become of her. Nothing hurt, she wasn’t stiff and wincing, but she went through the motions without thought, without passion. She had never thought when she danced, it was just something that became her. Off stage, she could be seen in short skirts and tube tops, showing off her lean and well toned body, that she got from years and years of dance. On stage, however, without dark eyeliner and bright red lipstick, she became an innocent creature, with wide eyes and flowing limbs that made anybody think about nothing but purity. It was the transformation, for those who knew her, that was the most fascinating.
Behati finished the solo act to cheers and applause, with red roses being thrown at her feet. She graciously smiled, taking 3 curtain calls before heading back stage, stopping to pick up one particular bouquet of red roses, a large one that had fallen on her slippers.
As soon as she got off stage, however, it was a different tale. She handed the roses off to a stage hand, rushing to her dressing room.
Behati was not particularly good with money, although no one would ever know. She always seemed to have endless amount, by her wild life style that often left the tabloids rolling confusion. But the truth was, that wild lifestyle, coupled with more than a few nights of drug induced slumber, often cost her every last penny.
In order to fly back to America, without the Ballet company paying for it, she had a standby ticket that allowed her to get on one of four late night flights.
She pushed the door to her dressing room opened, and was startled to find someone in it already. Behati gasped, and flailed for the light switch. And then she smiled.
“Adam,” she said, trying to regain her cool. “What the hell are you doing here?”
In the 10 years that they had been together, he had gained a few crow’s feet around the eyes, giving his face a slightly weather beaten look. He stood 5’11” to her 5’9”, dressed impeccably as always in a three piece suit that she knew must have cost him at least 4 figures. His hair, kept short but long enough to style, was dark, and gelled back. He had a giant bouquet of roses in his arms, as he did the first day they had met.
“I thought I’d surprise you. Is it unwelcome?”
“No,” she said, shutting the door behind her and taking the roses from him. She kissed him on the cheek. “Come to escort your ex wife home?”
“Well, my wife, in any case,” he said. “Have you had any news with the consulate?”
“Nothing, although I’ve tried my hardest. Getting a divorce when the marriage was sketchy to begin with is pretty hard,” she said. “It’s certainly easier if we do it at home, as two American citizens. As for escorting me home, I don’t actually have a flight. I have a standby…”
“You do have a flight,” from his pocket, he produced two tickets. “At midnight, tonight, first class. And I’ve bought the seats behind us too, I know you like your privacy.”
She grinned as she took down her hair. Adam always knew what to say to make things right. And although she wasn’t in love with him, she was eternally grateful for the things he had done for her.
They didn’t discuss their lives when they were apart, except in minor details. She didn’t tell him the parties she went to, or the substances she indulged him. And she assumed that he kept his tongue tied about the one night stands he had as well.
“Great. Let me get packed and I’ll be right out.”
He nodded, and left her alone, kissing her on top the head. Adam was not like most of the men she had been with, who would have stayed and stared greedily at her naked body, suggesting crude things. Behati might have even gone along with those things as well, but not with him. Adam brought out a better side of her.
Once he was gone, she hastily changed, and packed a bag. Turning over her shoulder to make sure the door was really closed, she opened her makeup drawer and shoved a pack of syringes and bottles into her bag. If Adam was going to be squeamish about her getting dressed, he certainly wouldn’t approve of a drug habit. And while his upscale parties were fun in their own way, she certainly didn’t call them a wild night to remember. The parties she went to involved drinking until you fell down, and strangers feeling your body, making you feel on top of the world. It was an aspect of herself she knew he was not impressed with, and yet he was drawn to her all the same. She enjoyed wearing a new ball gown just as much as a mini skirt. Playing characters was a part of Behati’s life, as much as breathing or sleeping. And when you were a performer, playing a character never stopped.
Adam was waiting for her outside, saying hello to some of the ballerinas he used to know well. On his first trip to Latvia, he had been a patron of the company, and his name still appeared in the program now and again.
“Ah, lovely,” he said, as she came out. “All packed? Or do we need to stop somewhere first?”
“Let’s blow this joint,” she replied, happy to have some time off work, even if it was for annoying circumstances. Spending a month going through paper work with Adam was going to be an annoying legal battle and a boring time. Despite the fact that she had made it clear she didn’t want any of his money, or any of his things, they would still have to battle it in court, seeing as neither of them had signed a prenup. His retirement fund would be automatically split up, unless they submitted a specific court order to not do it. It was stupid, in her eyes, but that was part of divorcing without a prenuptial, apparently. And spending a month in a mansion of well to do Londoners who preferred whiskey to beer was not her idea of a good time either. She didn’t think she could ever live with Adam, even if their marriage was real. And he probably felt the same way, embarrassed even now as her sweat shirt was belly bearing and her skinny jeans were tight enough to be leggings. But still, he took her arm, heading for the front door, as her colleagues waved goodbye.
“I have a car waiting,” he said. “Straight to the airport, unless you prefer to stop?”
“No. I’ve got everything. You didn’t really come across the ocean to escort me home, you sneak,” she said, once they were in the back seat of the limo. “What were you doing in Latvia?”
“Ah,” he smiled tightly, as the limo driver started. “Taking care of some of my mother’s affairs. She’s decided it’s time to see her sons again, and so she’ll be staying in America in the family home.”
“Your mother?” she raised an eyebrow. The boys did not particularly get along with their mother. When their father died, Adam had taken over as head of the family, and CEO of the company. Although he respected his mother, he often saw her as an interference. “Well, that should be fun. And what am I to be?”
“A friend,” he said, as the car drove onto the highway, the driver silent behind the screen. “For are you not that, always, if nothing else?”
