The Crack in the Truth

'Where were you?' I heard an angry voice behind my back. 'It's been two days, what was I supposed to think?'

'Oh,' I pushed a smile, 'I thought it's none of your business,' I snapped without turning around. 'Take care of the whereabouts of that filthy blond bitch of yours.'

I felt rage boiling inside of him. I knew that he was clenching his fists so much that knuckles were white, and that his lips became a hardly visible thin line on his pale face.

He always had troubles dealing with my behavior, with all the night disappearances, all the phone calls deliberately sent to voice mail and with the total lack of willingness to account to him. This time I was away for two days. I knew that inside he was really hurt as the traitorous ideas of me being with numerous lovers were popping in his mind. I knew that those thoughts were breaking his heart. And though there were no lover except him, I was hurt too and that hurt didn't let me nip those thoughts in the bud.

Six months ago he broke my heart. My brain understood that one night stand at some lame party shouldn't mean anything, I understood that it was just a mistake, I knew how sorry he was of that night, but I could stop thinking with my heart and it constantly, day after day reminded me what a bastard he was. Sometimes I even let myself be the girl I was before I met Adrian and hate him with all my heart for being a wealthy son of a bitch with no understanding of what a real life is, of how to survive without money, of how to achieve anything. I hated him, but I also loved him.

We continued living together, we did the same stuff we did before it happened, but I closed myself from him. The trust was lost and it was a long road to gain it back.

'Where were you?' he repeated his question through clenched teeth.

'And what's the difference?' I turned around on my heels and met his gaze.

'A huge one, you are mine,' he was scary, really scary. I saw that look in his eyes that I only saw once – in his father. And suddenly it dawned upon me, Adrian wasn't a boy, he was a grown man and he was strong and powerful, he was willing to take extreme measures to take what he wanted. And he wanted me.

That was the moment when I understood two things. That I will never escape him unless he wants me to. And that despite my free spirit nature I was ready to surrender.

'I was worried when you suddenly disappeared for two days,' his voice softened. 'You know, I have feelings too.'

'Oh, I'm so so sorry,' I dropped a curtsy to him with a sarcastic smile on my face. 'It was, you know, girls' business.'

And by girls' business I meant breaking and entering. Literally. I haven't seen my parents for five years, and not because they abandoned me, when I was fifteen, or because I ran away because of domestic violence. No. Last five years they spent in prison. Janine and Abe Mazurs were one of the best and highly paid art thieves in the world. They taught me everything I knew, and that's why when they finally got caught I took their place in the family business.

Adrian knew nothing, he honestly believed that my parents were dead. Sometimes he seemed to suspect something subconsciously, but he'd never said a word. Maybe it's just my paranoid imagination.

Though if he really suspected anything, I couldn't judge him of trying to avoid those suspicions. Tonight I stole a painting worth thirty million dollars. I stole it from his father.

'Rose, I can't do this anymore,' his voice was awfully sad and quiet. 'You know I hate myself for that mistake.'

I felt I was close to bursting up crying, but I couldn't care less. He was right, we couldn't do that anymore. That passive-aggressive neglect of each other and quiet lies we told each other every day had to stop.

'What do you want from me? To forgive you? I've already did, and I would've forgotten the whole thing if you didn't constantly bring that up. Thanks for reminding me again!' I was shouting. 'We should've talked back then, it was you, who decided to avoid confrontation, it's your fault!'

His eyes were full of pain, I thought he would explode, that he would let himself loose and the tornado of his fury will destroy us all. That calmed me down.

'Adrian,' that was a first time I called him by name since that night. 'Adrian,' I repeated coming closer. I closed my eyes, stood on my tiptoes, just like old timed, and said, 'I still love you.'

My words were barely a whisper.

He placed a finger under my chin, lifted my face a little and his cold, marble lips pressed very softly against mine. He was kissing me so gently and careful as if it was the first time.

'We need to take all the weight off our shoulders, we need to come clean, stop pretending, stop lying,' he whispered when we broke our kiss. 'You agree?'

I nodded, looking at him, terrified. Is it time? No more secrets.

'On three?' I asked and he agreed.


'One,' Adrian smiled.


'Two,' I lifted my eyes on him.


'Three!'


'I'm married.'

'I'm a thief.'

God! I've always known that cracking vaults and safes is much easier and pleasant than forcing locks that cover the truth.