CHAPTER 12
Dougie’s younger sister was psychotic.
Sweet, but definitely psychotic.
“You did what?” I needed her to repeat it.
Patricia McGregor was a plump bundle of plucky spirit.
Did I mention she was psychotic?
Dougie shook his head, brotherly consternation lining his face as he sipped his pint.
The three of us were sat in the corner of a pub, getting our grub on amidst the lunch-time diners.
Just a normal pub, not a fancy restaurant, and my kind of place.
I had agreed to meet Dougie for lunch, as long as it wasn’t some posh place where people would know who we were.
His sister tagging along was an unexpected surprise, but he explained he wanted her to meet me.
“I had one of my not so savoury friends threaten to publicly humiliate her within view of her family. It was amusing seeing her face.” she reiterated in her slightly accented voice.
Her Scottish brogue wasn’t as prominent as her brother’s and they looked nothing alike.
Her shocking red hair and green eyes were distinct from Dougie’s brown locks and hazel orbs.
Did they have the same parents?
Hmm, family skeletons perhaps?
“And Da promised ta skelp yer wee behind,” Dougie warned, taking a healthy glug from his glass.
Patricia frowned at him.
“What is wrong with you, Dougie?” She glanced askance at me.
“He doesn’t usually speak like this, Madison. When he came back home from Oxford, Mum was distraught at how English he sounded.”
“Madi,” I corrected before squinting at Dougie.
His cheeks were tinged pink, in fact, his whole face was fast turning red.
“Next you’ll be calling me a wee scunner.” she drawled, again looking between Dougie and me.
“What’s a wee scunner?” I enjoyed learning the vernacular.
And what did she mean Dougie didn’t speak like this?
“A little nuisance.” Dougie explained.
“Which she is.”
Patricia peered at him for another moment before shaking her head and popping some chips in her mouth.
Dougie smiled brightly at me then stole a chicken strip off my plate.
My fork just missed its goal of rapping his fingers.
“Are you having fun at Oxford Uni, Patricia?” I asked.
“Fun?” Dougie spoke up.
“Ye better be studying not having fun. Soon ye’ll be learning the ropes of the family business.”
Patricia and I both scoffed at his bossy tone.
“She’s 23, Dougie,”
“22,” Patricia corrected.
“Final year.”
I sipped my pint and continued.
“She should be having some fun at Uni.”
Dougie reached for another one of my chicken strips.
This time my fork was right on target.
“Ow,” he groused.
“Och, lass, ye begrudge me a piece of chicken?”
“You should’ve ordered your own, laddie.” I retorted while Patricia laughed.
“Dougie told me you married a Bradley.” she said, curiously appraising me.
I nodded and held my left hand up.
Patricia’s eyes widened at my bling.
“Matthew Bradley,” she sighed dramatically.
“Now that’s a fine example of-”
“He’s an arrogant prick.” Dougie burst out in a dark voice.
Patricia and I stared agog at him.
What the hell was wrong with Dougie?
“Well he is.” Dougie grumbled.
I cleared my throat.
“I’ll thank you not to bad-mouth my husband.”
“Ignore him.” Patricia said, shooting him daggers with her eyes.
“And he’s a fair bit older than ye.” Dougie stressed with a glare in my direction.
“I still cannae believe ye married him.”
One of my eyebrows arched.
“What’s so hard to believe about that, Dougie? Why don’t you two like each other?”
“Have ye ever been to Scotland, Madison?” Patricia’s accent became stronger when she got flustered it seemed.
“Every year our parents host a hunting weekend on our estates in Perthshire-”
“Smug arsehole.” Dougie continued.
“He thinks he’s better than everyone else.”
I put my cutlery down and made a show of glancing at my expensive watch.
“Will you look at the time? I should go.”
“What? No.” Patricia protested immediately as I started gathering up my things.
“Yeah, I need to head back to my studio,” I flashed her a friendly smile.
“It was nice meeting you, Patricia.” I shrugged my coat on before levelling Dougie with a hard stare.
Petulant, definitely combative; that was his current state.
“McGregor.” I said it in the same cold tone Matt used whenever addressing him.
Calling my husband a smug arsehole?
Huh.
He was one to talk.
Dougie roughly rubbed his lower face while scowling at me.
I slung my bag over one shoulder.
Dude had an attitude problem for sure.
He remained silent.
Fine.
If he wanted to act in this manner so be it.
I wasn’t staying around to witness it.
What was it between him and Matt?
They were both successful businessmen.
Both obscenely wealthy.
They both belonged to an elite world where nothing was beyond their reach.
They had so much in common yet could barely stand each other.
I checked the level in my pint glass.
Halfway, I was still well under the legal limit to get behind the wheel.
With a final glance at Dougie, amidst Patricia’s pleas for me to stay; I exhaled in frustration and walked away.
Idiotic man.
I left the pub, boots stomping over the pavement as I hurried to where I’d parked up.
“Madi, wait!” shouted from a way behind.
My steps quickened as I dodged fellow Londoners going about their daily business.
“Madison.” Much closer now.
Was the annoying Scotsman running?
Not far now.
I could see the Cayenne, and made a mental note to take it through the car wash later.
“Christ, lassie.” Dougie grabbed my arm and spun me around.
His face was flushed and his breathing was slightly elevated.
“I’m sorry, alright. I shouldnae have said those things.”
I jerked my arm free and laid into him.
“What is your problem? What do you have against Matt? He’s my husband.”
“Nothing,” Dougie professed earnestly as he reached for the sleeve of my coat.
“You know, he didn’t want me socializing with you,” I ranted.
“He thinks you’re an ass too, so that’s something you both have in common.”
Dougie’s mouth compressed into a sour line then he asked, “He dinnae wants us to be friends?”
“No.” I confirmed with a scowl.
“But I said you were nice, funny, generally a cool person. Maybe I was wrong and Matt was right. You are a bloody Scot.”
We exchanged tense looks for a minute before Dougie began to chuckle under his breath.
“I’m calling ye my wee wild cat from now on,” his voice was gruff with amusement.
“Address me as Mrs DuMont-Bradley from now on.”
He laughed some more and looked over his shoulder pensively.
“I cannae leave Patricia for long, trouble tends to follow the wee mite around. Let me make it up to ye and take ye to dinner tomorrow.”
“Kiss my black ass, Dougie,” I shot back as I searched for my keys in my bag.
“Why would I go anywhere with you after the things you said?”
“Because you find me nice, funny and generally a cool person.” his attempt at an American accent was hilarious.
I fought hard against the giggles but the darned thing spilled from my lips.
“You’re not that funny,” I lied badly, still chuckling.
“Besides I’m swamped at work and Matt’s due home in two days. Don’t you ever work?”
Dougie shrugged.
“I have people to run things in my absence.” He gave me that ‘aw shucks’ look of his and I rolled my eyes as he cajoled.
“I am flying back to Scotland in three days,”
“And we’ve had lunch three times last week and twice this week.” My reminder made him grin.
“Gloria wants your number by the way, I’m going to give it to her. You taking some of the members of my staff out last Friday earned you major points with her.”
Dougie’s features lost all traces of amusement.
“Don’t ye dare.”
I grinned maliciously.
“Why not? She’s keen on you and one of my good friends, besides, it’s been what? Three months since you broke up with your girlfriend, whom I never got to meet by the way. Some friend you are.”
“I’m licking my wounds, Madi, no women at the moment for me” He dropped his hold on my sleeve to reach up and tug the edges of my coat tighter, making sure I was snug.
How sweet.
“Tell yon cheeky Dante that the next time I return to London, I’ll teach him how to play Rugby. That’s a real man’s game.”
I shook my unclasped curls and stepped back.
Dougie leaned forward to brush his lips across my cheek.
“Call me, aye?” he asked.
I sighed and nodded quickly as I finally pulled my keys out.
“Aye. Go keep your sister out of trouble.”
“Call me tonight.” he ordered, backing away with a mock stern look.
“Kiss my-”
“Yummy arse.” Dougie finished with a wink.
I flipped him a very expressive finger as a goodbye and turned on my heels with his deep laughter following me to my car.
I didn’t look back, even though a part of me wanted to.
Dougie McGregor was complex no doubt, but in a world where I still felt out of place he was the one person who really didn’t give a toss about our different backgrounds.
I opened up my car and hopped in, smiling to myself at the memory of Dougie hanging out with the gang.
It must be the age thing because Matt didn’t mix with the others.
He just didn’t view them as potential friends.
Dougie was relaxed in their presence, never mind he was born with a bejewelled spoon in his mouth while they most certainly weren’t.
Yeah, it had to be the age thing, right?
Matt was home.
I must’ve gotten my days mixed up because it was Thursday not Friday, and my knight was home.
As quietly as possible I tiptoed across the bedroom and headed into the en-suite.
My shower was quick but thorough.
Matt looked good enough to eat with the covers in disarray around his naked body.
I dried off, bandaged a couple of my toes and happily crawled into bed as I deliberated whether to wake him for some welcome home sexing.
Shoving down my urges, I flicked off the bedside light and snuggled up against his heat.
I couldn’t stop the slow ass grinding as I got comfortable.
Seconds later Matt’s arm curved around me, his hand found its usual position over one of my boobs as we spooned.
“What time do you call this?” his voice was heavy with sleep.
“Early o’ clock.” I replied with another ass grind, hey, a girl has to be comfortable when trying to sleep.
“I wasn’t expecting you home until tomorrow.”
“Mmm.” Matt grunted.
I risked another grind and got nothing.
Matt had gone right back to sleep.
Ten minutes later, and quite a fair amount of ‘getting comfortable’, Matt tightened his arm around me like a vice.
“Poppet,” he groaned.
“Stop squirming.”
“Just trying to get comfortable.” I murmured.
Matt didn’t reply.
Damn it.
He’d gone right back to sleep.
Well, I never.
Stark naked and grinding up against his bits…
didn’t Matt know that was the universal sign for ‘gimme some’?
I settled down and tried to sleep, which continued to prove elusive.
It was hard to doze off when I was so horny with my sexy husband lying next to me.
Plus my ass had a mind of its own.
I couldn’t be held responsible for its actions.
Yeah, I was still grinding.
“For the love of God,” Matt grumbled a short while later.
“Will you please go to sleep?”
“I’m horny and you’ve been gone for 2 weeks.” I burst out.
“Fucking hell,” Matt groaned in the darkness.
“We can shag all you want when the sun comes up, but for right now please go to sleep.”
“Fine,” I grumbled back.
“Maybe I’ll just fiddle with myself then. I don’t need a man. Maybe I’ll just see to my own needs.”
Matt pulled away and seconds later his bedside light came on.
There were creases on his face from where it had been pressed into the pillows, and his silky black hair was caveman wild as he squinted at me.
“Go on then.” He sat up then yanked the covers off me.
I yelped at the rush of cold air over my skin.
Matt licked his lips slowly.
“I want to see this.”
“You old pervert.” I shot back, reaching for the covers.
“No, no,” Matt was grinning now.
He still looked sleepy but his devilish grin was firmly in place.
“I’m up now.”
I tried to pull the covers back on but Matt began to quickly bunch them up.
“I can’t do it if you’re watching,” I was embarrassed.
As if I would ever masturbate in front of him.
“Don’t mind me, poppet,” Matt drawled softly.
“I’ll be so quiet you’ll forget I’m even here.”
“Go to sleep, Matt.” I said, turning on my side and giving him my back.
Matt let out a husky chuckle before spreading the covers over us both.
“I’ve missed you, wife.” he said as he spooned me.
“Uh huh, sure. Turn off the light please.” I was still a bit miffed.
Matt brushed his mouth lightly across my shoulder while his hand went in search of its resting place.
He gave my boob a squeeze and tugged me even closer.
“I’m up now.” he said in that deep, sexy voice of his.
Yes, he was definitely up, a specific part of his body in fact.
“I don’t know if I want to anymore,” I infused as much petulance into my tone as possible.
“I’m actually tired now – argh – Matt!” Note to self: ass grinding on a sleepy Matt had consequences…
The smell of fresh coffee and the sound of cutlery clinking drew me out of slumber.
Cracking one eye open I caught a glimpse of a bare-chested Matt over by the windows.
With a tired flick of hand I brushed my tangled curls off my face.
Right.
Silk head scarf tonight, the past two weeks Matt had been away, my hair had been lovingly tied up each night.
George had refrained from commenting but I had seen him eyeing my head curiously a few times.
I sat up in bed, holding the sheet against my chest.
Matt looked over with a smile.
“I was just about to wake you, poppet.”
Spotting Matt’s pyjama top at the bottom of the bed, I dragged the covers up until it was within reach.
Under his amused gaze I quickly pulled it on.
I slid off the bed and stumbled towards the en-suite.
Once my morning ritual of relieving my bladder and brushing my teeth was completed I sauntered over to the small table where Matt was uncovering our breakfast.
“Pancakes,” I nodded in satisfaction.
“Slept well?” Matt asked before wrapping his arms around me.
I nodded, giving him a quick kiss then wriggling away to take my seat.
The memory of my last meal was fuzzy.
Matt sat down, reaching for the papers while my knife and fork neatly cut a pancake up.
The sound of my utensils and the shuffling of Matt’s papers were our only form of communication.
I clinked, he rustled.
“Tea?” I put my cutlery down.
“Please, poppet.” He still had the papers held up.
I poured him some tea before getting some coffee for myself.
He didn’t appreciate my chatter when reading the papers.
But I hadn’t seen him for 2 weeks, so, “Things are great at the studio,” I began with high levels of enthusiasm.
“Mhmm,” Matt’s gaze remained on the newspaper.
“The film crew have started compiling footage of us,” That should draw his attention to me.
“Lovely.”
I frowned, then tried again.
“How was your trip?”
“Tedious.” he paused to take a sip of tea before resuming his reading.
“Will you have to travel again soon?” I asked
“Perhaps.” His one word responses had a distinct edge to them.
Matt lowered the papers, giving me a bemused look.
I sipped my coffee and smiled at him.
“Aunt Cleo is doing much better, I spoke to her yesterday.”
“That’s nice.” Matt returned to his newspaper.
A sigh whispered past my lips as I put my coffee down and fiddled with the pancakes.
My appetite had disappeared.
“Don’t play with your food, poppet,” Matt chastised without breaking his gaze from the papers.
“There’re some formal party invitations on that platter, have a look through them and decide which ones you want us to attend.”
I glared at the pile of envelopes on the silver platter before pushing away my unfinished plate of pancakes.
“I’m going to get ready for work, hon, so you decide. It’s not like I know the people holding these parties anyway. Why don’t they just text you? Or snap chat? Or WhatsApp, don’t they use any of these? Paper invitations for anything other than a wedding is so old-fashioned. Who does that? I mean, your friends do, obviously.”
Matt folded his newspapers and placed them on the table as I stood up.
It became apparent Matt was tapping into his mental powers as he scrutinized my features.
“Is everything alright? You seem annoyed. Care to tell me why?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I shrugged while playing with the edges of his pyjama top.
“It’s just,”
He waited patiently as my voice tapered off.
I had to choose the words carefully.
“We hardly talk anymore is all,” I sent him a small smile.
“I know you’re busy, me too…it just feels as if we barely spend quality time together,” I chewed my lower lip.
“It doesn’t matter, ignore me, I’m being silly.”
“Ignore you?” Matt beckoned me over.
“Not a chance.”
With eagerness I sat on his lap and pressed kisses along his jaw.
“I miss you, that’s all.”
Matt slowly rubbed my back.
“I know, and I wish things were different but work is hectic at the moment,”
I refrained from pointing out things were always hectic at Bradley Industries.
“How about a mini-break after the twins’ 18 th this month? Have you visited France, poppet? I own,” he suddenly beamed at me.
“ We own a lovely property on Cote d’Azur. Shall we run away from our responsibilities for a few days?”
“Can I check my schedule first?” Ridiculous, I know.
One moment I’m complaining about us not spending time together, the next I’m hesitating over a French mini-break with my dashing husband.
God.
I was certifiable.
“Of course.” Matt gave me a quick nod.
“On another subject, how do you feel about moving to Mayfair? Or Knightsbridge?”
I leaned back, peering intently at him to figure out what was going on in that head of his.
“Um, what’s wrong with here, Matt?”
“I’m not too happy about the crime statistics,” he explained.
A tiny chuckle left my lips.
“Hon, this is South Kensington. The average price of houses as large as this in the neighbourhood is over ￡12million. You’re crazy and I have to get ready for work.” I kissed his sexy lips, laughing to myself, then slid off his lap.
Matt grabbed me around the waist.
“Think about it, poppet.”
The way he said it made me pause in my attempts to wriggle away.
“Oh no,” My eyes widened.
“You didn’t.”
Matt turned me around, smacked my ass then picked up his newspapers once more.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”
“Tell me you haven’t done what I think you’ve done. Tell me right now you haven’t already made an offer on a property.”
Matt winked at me before giving the newspapers his undivided attention.
“You can’t make these decisions without my input, Matt.” I fumed.
He raised those striking grey orbs in my direction and shrugged.
“Husbandly right, poppet. Go get a shower. I’m not due in the office today so I’ll take you into work.”
I rolled my eyes and stormed off towards the en-suite.
Husbandly right, my ass.
He’d been using that excuse to pull all sorts of crap.
“We’re not moving to Mayfair or Knightsbridge, Matt.” I threw over my shoulder.
“And marriage is a democracy.”
I heard his haughty snort from all the way across the room.
I swear he’d be the death of me.
This was one of our major problems.
Matt’s continued disregard for my feelings on certain topics.
I mean, he was older than me, probably smarter in certain areas; but still.
He wouldn’t appreciate me making a decision that drastically affected our lives without his input.
Then I remembered the baby issue.
Shit.
That was completely different, I reasoned to myself as I went about my morning ablutions.
That would have a direct effect on my physical state of being, not to mention my emotional state.
It was a woman’s right to choose what happened to her body, and I chose to not have a parasitic foreign life form stretching me from the inside out before busting through my vagina.
I shuddered under the heat of the water, chilled at the thought.
At least Matt seemed to have accepted it.
We hadn’t discussed it any further.
I think we were both unwilling to face the issue again.
Who said hiding from reality was a bad thing?
When Matt dropped me off at work he surprised me by walking me in.
Gloria almost fell off her seat in her haste to offer him my cup of coffee that she usually got.
If Dante was shocked to see my husband, he didn’t show it.
Instead they shook hands and conversed about nothing important.
Was it weird?
Dante and Matt didn’t really hang out much, considering one was my best friend and the other my husband.
Maybe Dante should come around the house for dinner one of these days.
He hardly came over to the house.
“I’ll send a car to pick you up around six?” Matt asked during a lull in his conversation with Dante.
Dante bit his lips while trying not to look at me.
“Ah, ten sounds more reasonable, hon.” I smiled sweetly.
Matt didn’t verbalize his discontent but his eyes let me know he wasn’t pleased with my answer.
My smile widened to maximum dazzle capacity.
He nodded once before leaning over to kiss me goodbye.
“I wish someone would kiss me like that.” Gloria said dreamily after he left.
It had been a good kiss, all tongues and lips and a tiny bit of teeth at the end which made it smouldering hot.
It was a damned good kiss.
Dante scoffed out loud.
“Come here then, Gloria. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
I ignored them, fingers pressed to my throbbing lips as I stared out the glass door and watched Matt drive away.
Dante and Gloria continued to tease each other until I made them stop.
There was work to be done, intermediate and advanced classes to run, preparation for the younger kids this afternoon, and of course my personal favourite of hiding from the film crew when they arrived.
Crap.
I hoped the decision to let them into our world wouldn’t bite me in the ass down the line.
The thought of Matt self-righteously saying ‘I told you so’ gave me the willies.
He would never let me forget it.
“Alright people,” I grabbed Dante’s arm and started herding him towards the corridor.
“Tempus neminem manet.”
“What?” Gloria called out.
She was eyeing me as if I had a few screws loose.
“Latin, Gloria,” Dante replied quickly while I dragged him along.
“Time waits for no one. Don’t you Brits read?”
We left an infuriated Gloria in the reception, her loud insults about Yanks and exactly where they should get off bounced along the walls.