CHAPTER 20
“I’m glad that’s been sorted,” Adam advised as they watched their executives leave the meeting room.
Nathan grunted in agreement while gathering up his files quickly.
Matt snuck a peek at his watch.
“It’s five o’ clock, and Friday. How about we knock off early and head out to the country club. I don’t have any pressing matters pending and it’s been ages since the three of us got together.”
Nathan grimaced apologetically.
“I can’t. Bella’s on bed rest and going out her mind. The baby’s due anytime now and both our mothers have taken up permanent residence in our home. She’s adamant she wants a natural home birth.”
Adam balked, mouth parting in shock or perhaps disgust.
“I thought you were going to convince her otherwise.”
Nathan shot him a hard look.
“You try talking to a determined, heavily pregnant woman with both your mother and mother-in-law in tow. What I want doesn’t count for squat. Quite frankly I find it unpleasant. I had assumed we’d do the normal thing,” He looked anxiously at Matt.
“You know, she goes in for a C-section, they get my son out then we bring him home after a few days. All nicely planned and executed, none of this natural birth drama in the home environment.” Nathan ran a frustrated hand through his blond hair, setting it on end.
“What if something goes wrong? It doesn’t bear thinking about. I should have vetoed some of those damned pregnancy books before she read them. This isn’t the dark ages. Child birth should be done in the safe, sterile environment of a hospital, not in a bloody birthing pool in my bloody living room!”
Matt and Adam exchanged glances before regarding Nathan’s red face.
His obvious feelings of helplessness was unnerving to them.
“I’m sure everything will be alright.” Matt assured him.
Adam still wore that shocked expression, when Matt gave him a pointed glare, he hurried to add his verbal support.
“Yes, Matt’s right. It’ll be a doddle. Women have been doing this since the dawn of time,” Adam tugged at his collar.
“Ah, this birthing pool, how large is it? You are putting some form of protective covering down, aren’t you? I can’t remember if you have carpet down or wood flooring. Bloody hell. Won’t it be messy?”
“Adam.” Matt chastised as Nathan’s pallor took on a sickly green.
“I’m sure it will be fine. Bella knows what she’s doing.”
“Does she?” Nathan retorted.
“I highly doubt that. Holding any lengthy conversation with her the past few weeks has been near impossible. We’ll start on one topic then she veers off into some random thought,” Nathan sighed.
“I have the most unsettling feeling of foreboding which I dare not mention or risk upsetting her. This is bollocks. Utter bollocks. She expects me to get in the damned birthing pool with her!”
Adam cover his mouth with one hand for a few moments, appalled and visibly wanting to end this train of discussion.
“Best of luck with that, chap. Have you seen the final bonus packages offered to our execs? Matt and I believe it’s quite generous considering the current markets.”
Nathan scowled.
Matt himself was uneasy and slightly repulsed at Nathan’s dilemma.
He scratched his stubble-covered chin and followed his brother’s lead.
A change of topic was definitely needed.
“Well it doesn’t matter if they are satisfied or not, we’re not going above the set threshold. The last thing we need is a backlash from lower level management.”
Nathan’s scowl deepened.
Matt avoided his best friend’s glare and gestured to Adam.
“What about you? Are you up for accompanying me to the club?”
“Not today,” Adam’s smug expression warned Matt of what was coming before his brother even said it.
“I’m out with Patricia this evening.”
“You’re still seeing her?” Nathan asked, juggling the stack of files in his arms.
“I thought you were knocking that on the head after Ascot.” He regarded Matt for a moment.
“And what is going on with you ? I know I’ve been preoccupied with the upcoming addition to my family, but have you forgotten what a bloody razor is?”
Adam chuckled softly.
“He’s gone to seed, Nate,” Narrowing his eyes in Matt’s direction, Adam added dryly, “And he refuses to talk about what we all know he should talk about.”
Nathan cocked his head to one side as Matt reached for his own stack of files.
“I still don’t understand what happened, Matt.” Nathan groused.
“One minute you’re absolutely smitten with your wife; the next she’s persona non grata. What the hell is going on with you two? And who was that woman you brought to the function last week?”
“He refuses to discuss it.” Adam replied.
Matt stared at them both.
“Right then. Give Bella my love. Adam, are we still on for tomorrow? Dad wants us to meet him around mid-day.”
“Of course,” Adam waved a dismissive hand through the air then smirked at Nathan.
“I assume neither one of you will be going to Port Hercules next week?”
“The Monaco Yacht Show is the last thing on my mind,” Nathan began heading for the door.
“I’m going to be a father any day now.”
Matt managed a small smile at Nathan’s sudden excitement.
He was pleased for him, yet his friend’s happiness only served to remind him of the dire state of his own personal life.
Adam gave him an unexpected brotherly pat across the shoulders and murmured, “Chin up, Matty.”
Matt shrugged him off, masking his emotions behind an empty facade.
“Well, seeing as neither one of you is available, I’ll get some more work done.”
The three men left the boardroom and went their respective ways.
When Matt approached his office he walked straight to Rachel’s desk and kindly told her to finish up for the day.
At first she seemed reluctant to go upon realizing he would be staying back, but Matt insisted.
By the time it got to six he decided to call it a day and headed home.
The first thing George said to him when he walked through his front door was, “Good afternoon, Mr Bradley. Your grandfather has called on four separate occasions today. He advised if you didn’t return his call the moment you arrived home, he would pay you a visit.”
Matt grimaced as he handed over his briefcase to George.
“Anything else?”
“The contractors and decorators have completed the remodelling of the studio and all the furniture has been situated as per the way you wanted.”
“Good.” Matt nodded curtly and strode down the hallways to assess the work.
It was a bitter-sweet moment when his eyes travelled the space that had once been her studio.
Memories of her dancing exquisitely in front the now gone mirrored wall bombarded him.
The studio had been one of the last things in the house that reminded him of her.
The final item was currently upstairs, out of sight in the large wooden chest at the foot of his bed and a cause of niggling guilt for him.
He had found her box, exactly where she said it would be but instead of having it safely delivered to her, he had kept it.
At first it was solely out of malicious revenge, something he was wholly ashamed of.
He wanted her to hurt, to know she felt some level of pain like he was suffering.
She had been unfaithful and broken his well-guarded heart in the process.
That deserved a form of retribution.
The spiteful feeling hadn’t lasted long, yet he still held on to her precious box.
Parting with it would be like losing her all over again.
So he kept the box and tried to ignore the reproach of his conscience.
“Is it satisfactory, Mr Bradley?” George called from behind, startling Matt from his thoughts.
“Yes, it’s fine.” he replied.
“Today’s mail is in your office,” George said.
Matt turned towards him, eyebrows arched in puzzlement.
George always put the mail in the office.
Why did he feel the need to point it out?
George inhaled deeply before saying, “There are a few letters for Mrs Bradley. Shall I have them forwarded on again?”
“I’ll sort it,” Matt said with a dismissive wave of hand.
“Thank you.”
With a respectful tilt of head, George then left him alone.
Matt tugged his tie loose, annoyed at himself for wishing he’d kept the space as she had left it.
Angered he couldn’t suppress how much he missed her, how much he needed her.
His wife was worse than a deadly narcotic.
Purging her from his life didn’t seem to help, in fact, it felt as if the man he had become with her was fading away.
It felt not just like an emotional death, but a physical one.
Matt grunted as he turned on his heels, striding away from the redecorated room.
He would shower and change then call Grumps…
“George,” Matt picked his bunch of keys up, the small stack of letters addressed to Madi was neatly tucked under one arm.
“Yes, Mr Bradley?” George popped out of the front salon, surprising Matt as he thought the man was in the kitchen.
“I’m heading out for a bit,” Matt advised, eager to leave.
“Your chef has prepared-”
“I’m sure Valerie can freeze it, whatever,” Matt cut him off.
“I might stop at Nathan’s on my way back so please don’t wait up.”
“Of course, sir.” George said, even though they both knew he would do the opposite.
Matt flashed him a fleeting smile and walked out his house.
This was risky.
He could have simply tasked George with forwarding the letters on to her like the last time, but for some unknown masochist reason he wanted to see her face.
It was highly probable she wouldn’t be home anyway, Matt reasoned to himself.
And if she was, he could check if she was ok, she was still his bloody wife!
His solicitor had confirmed she signed the non-disclosure contract that had been drawn up and Matt had secretly been worried how she would handle the news of Palmer’s girlfriend tattling to the media, so much so that he had ordered the solicitor to wait until the duration of her show had ended before notifying her.
Getting into the car he paused before starting the engine.
This was risky, perhaps too risky.
Would he be able to control his anger if she answered the front door?
Worse, would he be able to subdue his lusty desires in her presence?
Matt started the car and pulled away from the curb.
He should have slept with Louisa instead of sending her home that day.
If he had, maybe facing his unfaithful wife would be less of a problem.
I was going on the pull tonight.
That’s what Lisa called it.
Some British slang still made no sense to me.
Why on the pull?
Why not just say planning to hook up?
I fiddled with the ties to my dress for the umpteenth time and stared with longing at the unopened bottle of red on my kitchen table.
If I was going to get laid, I should definitely not start drinking before even leaving my home.
No, I would meet the girls, have a pint, maybe a few cocktails, get a respectable level of merry, find a hottie, then let him blow my back out with freaky sex.
My underwear matched and the stay up stockings were sexy as hell.
The shoes I wore, damn, if I couldn’t get laid with these heels on, the world was a terrible place.
My curls rocked and I had spent a full ten minutes in front the mirror practising the best way to untie my wrap dress with maximum wow effect.
It was almost half-seven, the girls said they were meeting around eight in Soho, an early start to the fun.
I should really call Lisa to tell her I would in fact be joining them tonight instead of staying home as planned.
Dante was away.
He, Gerrard, Eddie and Liam were off to Amsterdam for a boys’ weekend.
At first I dreaded to think of what debauchery they would get up to.
Legal highs and titty bars galore!
But then it started making sense, debauchery that is.
I was 27 years old, 28 in a month’s time, and I had never experienced no strings attached sex.
I had married the first man who sexed me.
How pathetic was that?
Grumbling under my breath, I checked my purse.
Yes, money, id, cell, Oyster card, and condoms.
Everything a girl needed for a wild night out.
I was going to do this.
Operation ‘on the pull’ would be a success, I would make it a success.
It didn’t help I had seen a picture online of my estranged husband earlier today at some stupid function held last week with a leggy brunette at his side and his hand on her back.
Not the salacious position right above the ass, his hand was respectfully placed mid-back; but still, his hand had been on her back.
That picture was the reason I was ready to paint the town red tonight.
“Bastard.” I mumbled out loud.
He couldn’t wait to replace me.
Well, screw him.
Why should I suffer the boinking itch when he was obviously scratching his?
“ Ass hole.” Another expletive fell from my lips, another minute passed as I searched for courage.
Free weekends like these were rare at my workplace.
Tomorrow’s classes were on for students as usual, but my troupe and I weren’t in.
We all needed a break, and I was going to make the most of this weekend.
How hard could it be?
To be honest, I felt a tad nauseous at the thought of some random guy sticking his junk inside me.
There was also the worry of where we would do it.
No way was I bringing a stranger back to my home, but wouldn’t it be risky going to his place?
I didn’t want to end up on the news as the victim of some horrible sex-capade gone wrong.
“I can do this,” I muttered out loud to the coffee machine.
“It’s just a little pelvic action,” The fridge was being addressed now.
“It’s not a big deal. It’s natural actually, a biological need,” I chewed my lips.
“Don’t judge me.” The stove was disapproving, its ceramic hobs were eyes of righteous contempt.
Crap.
I needed to get out of here before I lost my mind.
A low ringing came from my purse.
Pulling the cell out while again eyeing the unopened bottle of red wine, I smiled when I saw who was calling.
“Are you in the Red Light District yet?” Was my greeting.
Dante chuckled down the line.
“What sort of man do you take me for? We’re immersing ourselves in the culture right now at Oude Kerk.”
I let out a sharp bark of laughter myself.
“Ha. Oude Kerk? Isn’t that in the heart of the Red Light District?” Hey, I was well-read and knew stuff about places I’d never visited.
Books were great things.
Dante cleared his throat and I could hear Eddie in the background shouting about beer.
I laughed again.
“Listen,” Dante cut my laughter off.
“I just wanted to check you’re still picking us up Sunday afternoon.”
“Mhmm,” I confirmed.
“London City airport, right? Or did you guys fly from Heathrow?” I made my tone stern.
“I can’t believe you left this morning without waking me. It was strange at work today without you guys there-”
“City airport,” Dante interrupted my ramblings.
“We should get in around 4-ish. What are you getting up to this weekend? And don’t forget to get a quote for the roofing, we should have got it done earlier. It’s mid-September, sweet cheeks, you know what the weather is like over here.”
My doorbell went as I replied.
“It’s on my to-do list, D. Someone’s at the door,”
“At this time? It’s those bible thumpers,” he warned.
“The ones who came round on Tuesday. You did tell them to come back,”
“That’s what you’re supposed to say,” I hissed as I walked out the kitchen.
“No one really expects them to come back, they should know that.”
The doorbell went again.
I had told those evangelists to come back.
A scary thought filtered through my mind.
Was this a direct sign from God?
A sign to discourage me from tonight’s operation ‘on the pull’?
Dante laughed.
“Tell them you’ve already got Jesus.”
“Funny,” I groused back, ambling down the hallway to stop just shy of entering my living room.
My voice became hushed as I continued.
“I’ll wait them out.”
Again my best friend laughed down the line.
“Chicken shit. Are the lights on?”
“Yes,” I whispered, bad-tempered.
“Your car’s parked out front?” he needled.
“Shut up,” I minced into the living room, keeping low in case anyone was peeping through the front bay windows.
“They don’t know if it’s my car. How long will they wait? Five minutes?”
“Don’t ask me,” Dante replied dryly then came, “You know over here they don’t usually knock on doors like they do back home. This group must be persistent.”
“Sack it, I’m going to deal with this,” I said.
“Sack it?” Dante grunted out.
“Geez, Madi, I’m going to ban Liam from teaching you-” He broke off for a few seconds to yell at Liam for filling my speech up with British vernacular.
“Tell them you’re busy.”
“I’ll keep you on the phone and act like it’s an important call,” I decided with a burst of ingenuity as I straightened up from my crouched position and headed for the front door.
My hand landed on the doorknob the moment I heard something sliding through the keyhole.
What the hell?
The adrenaline pumped through my body as I twisted the handle and yanked the door open with wide eyes, ready to scream blue murder at whoever was trying to break into my house.
“Gotta go, Dante,” I murmured, shocked beyond belief.
“I thought you were-” he managed to get out before I ended the call.
It was a warning from God.
What other explanation could there be?
Matt was standing on my doorstep.
God had taken the time out to remind me, by my husband’s unexpected presence, that adultery was a sin.
Or maybe it was karma messing with me again, she loved doing that.
“You still have keys,” I bumbled out, trying my best not to stare at him as you would a piece of meat.
Matt had stubble, and it was a look he wore well.
With a stupid nervous stutter, I continued, “I-I’ll need those back.”
“Of course,” he murmured while slipping the bunch of keys into the back pocket of his jeans.
Suffering from the effects of his sexy stubble spell, I tried to think of something to say, anything really, as long as it broke me out of my embarrassing eye-humping behaviour.
All I came up with was a lame, “Hi,”
“Some mail came by the house for you.” he advised, holding up a small stack of letters for my perusal.
My gaze still lingered on the lower half of his face.
What was it with the darned stubble and me?
Moistening my suddenly dry lips with the tip of my tongue, I raised my hand to take the letters, realized I had my cell in that hand so raised the other one.
I looked like an idiot and that confirmed it was karma doing the usual and messing with me for her own enjoyment.
Matt took a step forward and I instinctively stepped back.
His movement allowed me a chance to sneak a guilty scan of his tall frame.
Damn.
Why did he have to wear that form-fitting t-shirt which showed off the broad lines of his chest?
And it was the exact shade of blue I enjoyed seeing on him and those jeans, mmm.
But my eyes were drawn back to his face.
The stubble on his face was worthy of adulation.
He took a couple more steps, breaching the sanctity of my property and in the form of an awkward sort of dance, I retreated further into my home while ensuring there was sufficient distance between us.
The last pile of my mail delivered to Kensington had been forwarded on to me.
Matt showing up on my doorstep to personally deliver this batch could only spell trouble.
What if he had nefarious plans on his mind?
Was he going to shout at me?
“Haven’t you set up your mail on a redirect, Madison?” he asked with his usual sternness as he closed my front door behind him.
Blinking fast, I nodded.
“Yes, I have. I must have missed a few companies.” I ran a hand over my curls.
“It won’t happen again. Sorry about that.”
Perhaps also wanting to maintain some form of cautionary distance between us, Matt ambled past the couch and placed the mail atop the coffee table instead of just handing it over.
My eyes violated every inch of him, twice, before zoning in on that bloody stubble decorating his face.
The sexy stubble spell, I would be shortening it to SSS for future wet dream reference, had me in its grips once more.