Lovers’ Dance, Vol. 2

CHAPTER 1

Two days.

That was all it took before the media found out about our engagement.

How?

Only God knew!

Matt hadn’t even told his family yet and I dreaded their reaction.

I looked over at Dante as we did our warm-up stretches.

He was being a bit guarded about it all.

Of course, he congratulated me when I told him, but it didn’t seem sincere.

He was more concerned about the blow-out I’d had with my family.

He made me rehash every word uttered and then hugged me tightly before saying it was long overdue.

I had cried a bit more and Dante had assured me things would only get better; that they would come around once they accepted their previous abhorrent behaviour and apologized for it.

I could only wish.

Aunt Cleo’s face when she said we were finished was burnt into my memory.

She had looked so hurt, wounded, betrayed.

I had betrayed my family.

“Madi, the reporters are still out front.” Bri fumed as she walked into the fishbowl.

“Gloria said she was going to call the police if they didn’t leave. You’d think it was Prince William you were engaged to.”

I laughed at the thought as I retorted, “Well, he’s already married to a beautiful woman, although when I first moved here I hoped somehow I would catch his eye and he would fall madly in love with me. Ah well, no throne for me.”

Dante choked on his laughter, then Bri started laughing too as she placed one leg atop the barre and began stretching.

“What?” I asked.

“I’m princess material, hell, I’m a Queen in this upcoming production.”

Dante laughed even harder.

Huh.

It wasn’t that farfetched.

It could happen.

I mean, look at Matt and me.

That got me thinking about my knight.

When we flew home on Saturday, his driver had been waiting to ferry us to Matt’s Kensington home.

George had spotted the ring gracing my hand in mere seconds.

His face had gone all sorts of pale; shocked pale, disbelieving pale, ‘my boss has lost his mind’ pale.

Then Matt had said: ‘Aren’t you going to congratulate us, George?

’

Poor George.

His stammered congratulations were far from his usual poise and the ease between us had become quite awkward that day, so much so, I decided to spend the rest of the weekend at my place which raised another problem.

Matt wanted me to move in with him at once.

I didn’t want to.

I liked my own space, plus my house was much closer to my place of work, moving in with Matt wasn’t high on my agenda.

When I mentioned my view, he had gone silent before notifying me it was inevitable as we would be living there once we were married, and it was best to speed up the process by moving in immediately.

I hadn’t really thought about the ins and outs of being engaged.

It was still unbelievable that we had reach this stage in our relationship in such a short space of time.

But Matt was a man who saw what he wanted and took it, and it seemed he wanted me.

I grinned at my reflection.

Forget the Royal family, I had my own prince.

“First of December, people.” Liam shouted as he walked into the fishbowl with a furrow between his eyebrows.

“Two weeks before opening night. I want things perfect. Sublime. I want those bastards to see our greatness on the stage. They will weep with joy over our production. They will line the streets shouting our names. We will be great.”

Dante and I exchanged a glance.

Liam always got a bit dramatic when it came to opening night.

He was a theatrical being.

A tall, lanky being who had once again misplaced the office phone.

I should start charging him for its use.

“Mental.” Bri muttered under her breath.

Soon enough everyone who needed to be in had arrived and we focused on getting things right.

Unfortunately the lights above the stage were being redone today hence our use of the fishbowl.

“Madi,” Gloria opened the door and gestured to me.

“You’ve got a call.”

My heart jumped into my throat.

Every time my cell beeped, or the house phone rang, I would get this flutter of hope intermingled with dread.

Hope that it was my Aunt, and dread that it was indeed my Aunt.

I was a conflicted person at the moment.

“Who is it?” I asked once I shut the door behind me and followed her down the hall way.

Gloria tittered and shot me this girly look over her shoulder.

“That man of yours.”

“What?” I stopped, folding my arms across my chest before spinning on my heels with a little shake of head.

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“I did.” She grabbed my arm.

“But he ordered me to get you and,”

I arched an eyebrow at her.

“He’s so commanding. I couldn’t tell him no. He’s a billionaire for Christ’s sakes.”

I grunted something unintelligent under my breath and started back in the direction of my office with a relieved Gloria at my side.

“Line 2,” she said as I opened my office door.

“And I’ve called the police about those reporters out front. Hopefully they’ll send someone to shoo them away.”

I waved her off and strode over to my messy desk.

“Of all the-” I had forgotten the handset was missing.

I hurried out my office to the reception area and grabbed up the phone on Gloria’s desk.

“Kind of busy today, Matt,” Was my greeting.

“Hello, poppet,” His deep voice was warm with affection and I tried to fight my smile.

“I know you’re busy, as am I, but we’ve been invited to dinner by my parents. I tried your mobile numerous times,” There was a touch of reproach in his voice.

He didn’t like when I couldn’t be reached.

“Matt-”

“Seven pm, so you’ll need to leave work early today.” he cut me off.

“I’ll send the car around to pick you up and we can meet at the restaurant. Hold a moment.”

Music filled my ears.

He had put me on hold.

The cheeky tyrant had put me on hold.

He was lucky I loved him so much.

“Sorry about that, poppet,” he said five minutes later.

“Now where were we?”

“Dinner with your parents at 7,” I replied.

“Yes, I’ll be leaving straight from the office as I’m swamped with work. I swear there aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done. And the bloody media! The last thing I wanted was for our engagement to be blasted across the papers before I’d even had the chance to share our news with my family.” A frustrated sigh whispered down the line.

“Hence this dinner invitation tonight.”

My smile softened.

I could picture him behind his desk, jacket off and shirt sleeves rolled up as he and Adam ruled their empire from Central London.

“Poppet, I don’t want you to be nervous about tonight,” he suddenly said.

“I’m not,” I said.

It was the truth.

I wasn’t nervous, I was way past nervous.

Scared shitless and envisioning a scene where Matt’s mom tossed a drink in my face while calling me a gold-digging hussy.

Of course, that would never happen.

Portia Bradley oozed upper class superiority, creating a scene in public would be beneath the likes of her.

“Hmm, I don’t believe you.” Matt mused.

I stopped picturing the drink in my face and focused on the most pressing problem about the pending dinner.

“What shall I wear, Matt?”

“I’m sure whatever you wear will be nice.” Matt replied.

I could tell he was only half paying attention to me now and the muffled sound of someone talking in the background could be heard from his side.

“Matt, I want to make a good second impression, wait this will be the,” I recalled the number of times I’d seen Matt’s parents.

“Third time I’m meeting them. I want to make a good 3rd impression.”

“Anything you wear will be fine, poppet. Look, I must dash. Love you and see you at seven.”

I held the phone against my ear, listening to that dial tone.

Ah.

He was so very lucky I loved him the way I did.

I put the phone back in its cradle, smiled tightly at Gloria who was trying to act like she hadn’t been eavesdropping on my conversation, then hurried away.

I would worry about dinner later, right now I needed to dance my toes off.

Dante wasn’t pleased with me leaving at 5:30.

We had so much to do and so little time, at least we were sold out, silver lining and all that.

Dante had also repaid Geoffrey while I was home, I mean, New York.

I had to stop thinking of it as home.

Home was synonymous with family and I was now an outcast.

I consoled myself with the fact it hadn’t even been a full week since the blow-out.

Maybe Aunt Cleo would forgive me and call, I had sent Jenny the cheque.

That had to give me some sort of edge.

I let out a bitter laugh as I walked towards my vehicle, ignoring the flurry of activity at the front gates.

The police hadn’t come as per Gloria’s request.

It seemed being hounded by the press wasn’t a crime.

They told her unless a danger was being posed and they were off private property, there was nothing they could do.

I made sure the doors were locked once I got behind the wheel then pulled out of the parking lot, beeping my horn furiously when some fool of a man placed himself in front the Cayenne.

The stall in the vehicle’s movement was enough for the others to swarm around.

Flashing lights and shouted questions assailed me.

I sighed and pressed the horn again.

I did not need this crap.

Revving the engine, I gave the man a death stare through the windscreen.

If it was his wish to be mowed down by a SUV, I would certainly grant it.

He had five more seconds.

I revved the engine again and he must have finally noticed the crazed look on my face because he jumped aside, allowing me the chance to escape with a screech of wheels.

They would eventually give up.

Right?

Half an hour later I parked in front my house and hurried inside with my stuff.

I was sweaty, my hair needed a wash, and I had no idea what to wear…

I really didn’t want to have dinner with Matt’s parents.

Every time his mom looked at me, I felt like something she’d scraped off her shoe.

All thoughts of wowing them had flown out the window after dinner at their place those months ago.

At least in a restaurant the chances of me humiliating myself were slim.

When the knock on my front door came I was ready, just barely, and my hair although pulled back into a neat side bun, was still damp.

I grabbed my purse up and headed out the front door.

A growl of annoyance left my mouth at the limo parked across the street.

The driver was already hurrying in front of me to reach the door before I could.

My choice of outfit was a no brainer.

I had no idea where we were having dinner tonight and I couldn’t go wrong with a black cocktail dress.

The blue silk scarf knotted around my neck was the only splash of colour on my body.

Oh wait, the massive red diamond on my left hand added some colour.

I nervously fiddled with the pearl studs in my ear.

“Do you know where we’re heading?” I asked the driver through the open partition and ignored my inner voice saying: of course he does, you fool, he’s driving you there!

“Yes, Ms DuMont,” he answered jovially, catching my eyes in the mirror.

“It’s Sketch in Mayfair.”

I chewed my glossy lips.

“I’ve never been there before. What type of restaurant is it?”

“French,” the driver supplied.

“Some big name Frenchie with too many Michelin stars founded it. If you ask me, our home grown lads are just as good. You want to buckle up, Ms DuMont? That’s a French sounding name. Are you French?”

“No, ah, no, I’m English.” I replied, wondering how much conversation I should have with the man.

Matt was quite a stickler for propriety when it came to things like these.

“English?” he barked out as the limo lurched into motion and I buckled up rather quickly.

“You don’t sound English. Sound more like a yank to me.”

“Ah, well I grew up in the States,” I volunteered.

The man gave me a teasing grin.

“I’m just joshing you, Ms DuMont. I know who you are. You’re Mr Bradley’s bird. Read about you two in the papers today.”

“Ok.” I said.

Maybe I should press the button to close the partition.

Where was the button?

“Told my Missus I was driving you tonight and she got all excited. Wanted me to ask you all sorts of questions,” He sent me a quick glance in the mirror again.

“But I told her I’m a professional driver and we don’t question the people we’re driving around.”

Where was it?

Damn button, hiding from me.

“I’ve been doing this for about ten years now. Driving rich people about-”

“I’m not rich.” I responded without thinking.

“Oh don’t worry about it. You’re all set to marry Mr Bradley, right? Like I said, I read about you two in the papers today, and he’s as minted as they come.”

Oh crap.

This was definitely not the accepted passenger/driver conversation to be having.

“But you’re a normal bird,” he mused.

“I can tell from one look at you. No airs and graces at all. Ha. I’m sure you go to your local on a Friday night with your friends.”

“Ah, not anymore,” I replied.

Didn’t want him thinking I was down the pub every Friday.

“I’m too busy nowadays.”

Oh double dose of crap.

He was drawing me in.

What if he was recording this conversation?

What if he had a secret camera installed in the back here that just caught me fixing my bra strap?

Where was that button?

“Well, you seem to be nice. Those things they’re writing about you on the internet, humph, bunch of trolls if you ask me. It’s easy for someone to comment on something that doesn’t concern them from behind a screen. Let them say that to your face and I’m sure Mr Bradley will sort them out.”

Ok.

This was getting too familiar.

Button, button, where art thou?

Shouldn’t it be on a console?

Oh, there it was.

Now I knew where the button was I felt too guilty to press it.

I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Are you from London?” I asked.

It was better if we spoke about him and not me.

“I’m from the Isle of Wight.” he said proudly.

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“I don’t live there anymore, mind you. Met the Missus 20 years ago and that was that. I try to go back a few times each year but my Missus is a London girl. Won’t go too far or she’ll break out in hives,” he laughed loudly.

“At least that’s what she tells me.”

I laughed politely with him.

If Matt was here he would’ve cleared his throat to show his displeasure then wound the partition up.

Hell, if Matt was here I doubted the driver would’ve been this friendly.

For the whole drive to Mayfair my finger hovered above the button but the partition never got raised.

When we arrived, he opened my door and smiled at me.

I glanced up at the building.

“Ah, is it-”

“The Lecture Room I’d lost my family to this drama.

One family was enough.

As strong-willed as Matt was, I knew being ostracized from his family would hurt him deeply.

I sighed and looked at Matt.

He was watching me intently, well, watching my hands actually.

I glanced down at my hands and stilled them.

Matt looked up at me and frowned.

Then he turned his head in his parents’ direction and asked casually, “So, what have you three discussed in my absence?”

“Inconsequential things.” Portia breathed out, sending Matt a beatific motherly smile.

Matt looked at me, questioning it, and I nodded with a small smile.

Yes, in their eyes I was inconsequential.

I was tired of this, tired of it all.

Was this what the future held in store for us?

At war with our families because we loved each other?

I had read Shakespeare, a lot of Shakespeare, and I was not going out like Juliet did!

Star crossed lovers, my ass.

A menu got held in front of me and I took it, conscious of the gleaming jewel on my finger.

“What strikes your fancy, poppet?” Matt asked, pulling his chair closer and slinging an arm around the back of mine as he peered at the menu in my hands.

His own menu laid unopened on the table.

He was so close I could feel the rush of air over my cheek as he breathed.

I twisted my head to give him a ‘personal space, respect it’ look, but I got sucked into those piercing eyes of his, mesmerized by the barely visible gold flecks around his irises.

“I don’t know.” I murmured, unconsciously licking my lower lip as Matt’s gaze fell to my mouth.

The forced sound of his father clearing his throat broke us from the sizzling eye sexing session.

I inhaled deeply and turned back to the menu.

Matt’s hand lightly stroked my shoulder.

“Shall I order for you then?” he murmured, deliberately ignoring his parents as he focused all his attention on me.

I nodded wordlessly and tried to smile.

His eyes were demanding that I smile.

The sommelier suddenly appeared at our table as we decided what to have.

Matt and his father immediately conversed in fluent French with the man, who approved of their knowledge of either the use of his native language or the wines.

And just to make me feel like the odd one out, Portia joined in their conversation.

Great.

Why hadn’t I done languages?

Now I looked even dumber.

I fiddled with the lace napkin while the four of them chatted.

Once the food and wine had been ordered the sommelier gave us a little bow and whizzed off.

“Such a delightful man,” Portia said with a smile.

Turning her face towards me she asked, “Do you not speak French, Madison?”

I smiled coolly.

“I know what is required for ballet terms, but not enough to converse with such fluency, Mrs Bradley. I can speak some Spanish though.”

Matt joined in with a playful, “Come now, poppet. Mrs Bradley? That’s a terribly formal way to address the woman who’s going to be your mother-in-law,” Matt shot his mother a challenging grin.

“Soon. By the way, you have yet to congratulate me on our exciting news.” Matt cocked his head at me, gaze swivelling between his parents and myself.

“Did they congratulate you, poppet?”

“Um, something like that.” I hedged.

This was bullshit.

I felt as if Matt was using our engagement to bait his parents.

“Matthew speaks several languages,” Portia said.

If she was trying to point out our differences she was doing a damn good job.

“Such a clever boy, my Matthew.”

“Mum,” Matt groaned with embarrassment that all grown children felt when their parents go into super proud mode.

“Oh, hush, darling,” She waved his embarrassment away with a graceful flick of her own blingified hand.

“You know how proud Dad and I are of you.”

I smiled at him.

He was embarrassed, it was cute.

“Your parents died when you were a child, yes?” Portia asked, blue eyes trained on my face.

I nodded soundlessly.

Matt was peering at his mother in disbelief.

“Such a tragedy.” she murmured sympathetically.

“And your father’s sister took you in, yes?”

I nodded again.

Had they done a background check on me too?

Of course they would have!

“It must have been hard growing up without your parents,” she mused.

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat.

Oh God.

This was going to be a showdown at noon sort of night.

Exactly as it had been with Grumps.

I was going to be riddled with Bradley bullets.

The tumbleweeds would be rolling through my spilt blood soon.

Matt’s hand landed on my knee and he squeezed lightly.

Oh good, tonight I had a Kevlar suit and his name was Matt.

If anyone could protect me from a Bradley verbal whup ass, it would be Matt.

He was spawned from these people, he would know how to deal with them.

“How have you found living in England, Madison?” William Jnr asked.

“It must be quite a change to New York.”

“It did take some adjustment,” I replied politely while flashing him a tiny smile.

“Driving on a roundabout took some getting used to.”

Matt chuckled under his breath and patted my knee.

“And you’ve been here almost four years now?” William Jnr queried.

“Yes, it’s coming up to that time frame.” I confirmed with a nod.

“And how is your dance company?” Portia asked coolly.

“My daughter mentioned something about an upcoming production.”

“Yes,” Matt answered before I could.

“Opening night is on the 15th of this month and tickets are sold out but I’m sure Madi can arrange some seats for you both if you’d like to attend.”

His parents murmured something about prior engagements and I checked the urge to roll my eyes.

This was such bullshit, but I could play the game too.

I could be unfailingly polite and act as if they hadn’t, not a mere twenty minutes ago, said I was nothing more than a pawn in their son’s defiance of their wishes.

An unintelligent pawn according to Portia Bradley.

“Poppet?” Matt called quietly and I forced a smile on my face and looked over at him.

He didn’t return my smile, gaze continuously sliding between my face and my hands on my lap.

What was it with my hands he found so fascinating?

I stopped scratching my pinkie and arched my eyebrow in query.

“The 15th?” William Jnr asked abruptly.

“Aren’t you and your brother due to travel on that date, Matthew? I’m sure, if I recall correctly, that’s when you fly to Russia.”

Matt grimaced at his father.

“It’s the 14th, Dad.” Then he shot me a remorseful half smile as my mouth parted in disappointment.

“You won’t be here for opening night?” I asked the obvious.

Matt shook his head.

“Unfortunately not.”

I swallowed my disappointment and tried to affect a relaxed facial expression.

So what if he couldn’t make it for opening night?

I licked my lips as I asked another question.

“How long will you and Adam be away for, Matt?”

“We’re not certain at this point,” he advised, still with that apologetic shine to his eyes.

“Perhaps a week, maybe more.”

“But you will both be back for Christmas.” Portia stated firmly.

Matt glanced at his mother as his father reproached her gently.