CHAPTER 22
“Let’s take it from the top.” I ordered, snatching up my discarded towel and wiping the sweat off my face.
“Emily swap positions with,” For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the other dancer’s name.
“Olivia.” Dante covered for me, already knowing who and why I wanted the change.
We were on stage and working through the moves of the current production.
Our artistic director, Francois, seemed to have a perpetual scowl on his face since he arrived this morning.
It was already gone 1pm, no one was happy with the dancing today.
He wasn’t usually a shouter, but the past few hours his extreme annoyance was manifesting itself in cutting insults and visible frustration.
Interpretive dance was always more difficult in my humble opinion.
And this production was completely different from our last.
Thinking about The Ice Queen and Princess caused a frown to wrinkle my forehead as I tossed the face towel aside.
We were working on two productions at the same time, something my corp had never done before.
With a two week performance earmarked from the second week in January next year at the Birmingham Hippodrome, we were under pressure.
Time waited on no man and we were mid-November already.
Sinners and Saints was due to go live mid-December and it still wasn’t perfect.
Gerrard threw a bottle of water at me from where he sat cross-legged on the edge of the stage.
I smiled a thank you and took a few sips before tossing it back.
“It’s not working.” Francois pinched his nose bridge and waved Dante over to his side.
Flexing the toes on my left foot, I stayed away as the two became embroiled in a low argument on the far side of the stage.
Don’t get me wrong, it was great having an artistic director, it was a necessity; but sometimes it felt similar to a kick in the teeth whenever he slated my choreography, or Dante’s.
Francois’s opinions could be harsh, downright offensive; yet I would hate to cut him from my payroll.
Lisa and Eddie stood with a few of our temporary dancers, waiting for further instructions.
I mentally tallied the numbers and the overall wage bill.
We needed less temporary dancers to perform this show, but The Ice Queen and Princess was a big production, and some of our temps were not suited for Sinners and Saints.
It was a total ball-ache as Liam would say.
I flexed my bare left foot again, wincing at the sharp twinge in my arch and slightly alarmed over the swelling on the edge of my big toe.
Hopefully it would go down.
My knee ached too…
and my hip.
Hell, I’d been feeling like shit the past few days.
Everything hurt.
This was no time to get sick and there was a bug going around.
Rubbing my nose, I rolled my head around my neck then walked across the stage.
“Maybe we could drop the lift,” I suggested to Francois and Dante when I came to a stop next to them.
“Instead of her being lifted by,” I squinted, mouth scrunching up in thought.
“Raoul and Patrick,” Dante supplied.
“Yeah,” I continued while promising myself to go over all the temp’s names later.
“They could probably evoke the intended imagery by circling her from about two metres then close in with some pas du basque .”
Francois nodded slowly, mulling it over in his head.
“Maybe if she crouches down also, so it appears as if they’ve overwhelmed her, devoured her,”
“Yeah,” Dante looked pleased at the suggestion.
“That could work.”
The three of us shared weary grins.
Modern dance was challenging for a classically trained ballet dancer, but so freeing from the rigid realms of ballet.
It was an emotion driven genre of dance with many variations that showed the more ‘human’ side.
I enjoyed it immensely, even though I found it much harder than my first love of classical ballet.
“Alright then,” Francois became all business-like.
He stalked off towards Olivia and I spotted her immediate scowl before she smiled politely and hurried towards him.
When we called quits for the day I would have a quiet word with Francois, tell him to ease up on the crew.
“Madi,” Gloria stood in front the stage a few hours later, fingers drumming impatiently across the wood.
I hadn’t even noticed her entering the auditorium.
Understandable since I was currently flat on my back with four dancers hovering over me.
“What’s up?”
“Amy just called in,” Gloria explained and my body instinctively stiffened, already suspecting what was coming next.
Amy had sounded as if she was coughing up a lung two days ago.
“Uh huh?” I pushed the others back and sat up as they moved away.
“She’s too sick to come in later.” Gloria gave me the ‘look’.
The ‘you’re going to have to force one of the other instructors to take the class or do it yourself’ look.
I hated that look.
“Was it an intermediate class she had?” I asked reluctantly.
Gloria gave me a quick nod.
“From 4:30 to 6:00, and then an hour long intensive pointe class from 7:00 for the students prepping their exams.”
“Who’s handling the virtuosity class for the boys?” Dante left his position at the back of the stage.
He too wore a frustrated expression.
“Richard is, but the timings, Dante,” Gloria frowned.
“The virtuosity class is from 5:00 to 6:30, he can’t take Amy’s intermediate group and there’s still the intensive pointe class to sort out. Jiao is off this week so she can’t pick up the slack.”
“It’s fine.” I mentally reminded myself to maintain a calm, professional air.
Dropping an additional class on another instructor was a no-no, plus this week’s scheduling was tight.
A ‘no-room-for-change’ tight.
Damn it.
Why had I agreed to Jiao having this week off?
She was a relatively new instructor and should be working her ass off.
“I’ll run Amy’s class.”
“We need you on stage.” Dante’s pointed reminder was unnecessary.
I knew he needed me on stage.
The same way I knew we had no other choice.
“I could run the class if you wanted.” Bri offered while sauntering up to Dante’s side.
“It’s a one-off, right? Lisa can fill my spot while one of the temps fills hers. I’ll do it if you want.”
I tried to hide my surprise, especially when I caught a weird kind of look between her and Dante.
My corp rarely filled in for my instructors.
That would be unfair.
That look though…
what the?
Why did Bri give him that look?
“It’s fine.” I smiled to show my appreciation at her offer.
“I’ll run the class,” My gaze went to Dante’s brown face.
“You can rehearse the beginning without me. It needs serious work.”
Gloria nodded in my direction, her features quickly morphed from expectancy to satisfaction that the problem had been averted.
The majority of our students feared me, if only they knew Gloria was the one who made sure the wheels spun.
“And you’ve got some important messages waiting for you in your office,” she added before turning on her heels.
“Either you or Dante should get to them as soon as, Madi.”
My best friend exchanged a telling glance with me.
We were fully aware Gloria’s ‘as soon as’ was a polite way of saying: do that shit now.
“Quick break?” Dante mumbled, trying to save face.
My head jerked in agreement while I subtly waved a finger from my chest to the doorway Gloria was striding through as she left the auditorium.
Dante nodded in relief, offering a hand.
Rising to my feet tore a muffled grunt from me and he raised an eyebrow at the grimace on my face.
“You feeling it today?” he asked with growing sympathy and understanding seeping through his expression.
“Yeah. I’ll try not to be too long.” Stretching my aching limbs, a tired sound escaped my lips.
I forced a quick smile then hurried off the stage to deal with whatever issue had cropped up and was awaiting me in the office.
My pledge to be quick was broken.
I spent about half-an-hour on the phone, mainly in a queue, then another 20 minutes staring in horror at my online bank account.
Not the business account or my personal current accounts, but the mortgage account for my business premises.
The brief, but informative, conversation I’d had with the advisor had stolen whatever goodness left in my soul as I realized the true foulness of human nature.
Some say everyone is susceptible to committing a crime of passion, but other schools of thought believed a ‘crime of passion’ was a misconception.
That the perpetrator’s mind had already been conditioned to the violent act, perhaps from a period of lazy Sunday afternoons where the fantasy of killing the unsuspecting victim with a dull pencil was the only thing helping the person through the day.
Perhaps the intended victim had waged a verbal war of insults over a period of years, perhaps they had unknowingly created the situation that led to their demise.
All I knew as I stared at the figures on the computer screen, was the simple fact my estranged husband was on borrowed time.
Dead man walking.
It was a cliché, mentioning the thin line between love and hate, but there was a line, and Matthew Bradley had crossed it.
I had every intention of killing him today.
This dastardly act of his, this spiteful, evil course he had started down, well, it would mark the end.
His end.
I was going to end him.
With a brittle calm that belied the seething rage building inside me, I printed out the screen, stuffed the paper in my bag then locked the computer and exited the office.
It didn’t take long for me to swap into my street clothes in the changing rooms.
Making sure my winter coat was buttoned up snug, I returned to the office and grabbed my bag and keys.
“Madi?” Dante spotted me as I strode down the hallway.
He must have gotten tired waiting for me to reappear in the auditorium.
“Where are you going?”
I thought about saying: to kill Matt , but that could possibly place Dante in a sticky position if he was forced to testify in court when I faced murder charges.
The prosecutors might use his testimony to prove premeditation.
So I smiled and waved a hand through the air without slowing my steps.
“A quick errand. Be back in a tick.”
Ignoring the volley of questions he lobbied at my back, I flashed another bright smile at Gloria as I hurried through the reception and left my building.
Wait, let me amend that.
It was now Matt’s building.
Oh, the mortgage was held under my name, and even though the fucker had cleared the remaining substantial balance (yeah, anonymous third party my ass!
) the building was still technically owned by me, but I was no fool.
This was the Machiavellian manoeuvrings of a man intent on destroying me.
How did he plan on delivering the blow?
Would he threaten to take a claim of interest in my property under the iffy law of ‘implied trust’?
Fuck.
It wasn’t iffy, seeing as he had just cleared the whole bloody balance.
Millions of pounds.
The building was worth millions on the market.
The bulk of my inheritance had been used as a down payment those years ago.
Geoffrey had sorted it all out for me, and now it was mortgage free thanks to my devious husband.
Why?
I was going to kill him no doubt.
Or perhaps he planned on using my building as a bargaining chip when we legally filed for divorce?
Forgo any financial settlement and my building would be safe from his grubby hands.
Not that I wanted a single cent from him.
Where would we go if he somehow managed to take my premises from me?
Why?
Why would he do this?
It was bad enough he had literally fucked me over that weekend two months ago.
Now he was doing it again, except this time he was screwing with my life.
My livelihood.
My dreams.
No, no, no, no.
No one was going to mess with my money.
The drive through traffic did ease my murderous urgings.
Google helped too, as my calls to Geoffrey went straight to answer phone and the internet searches for legal advice did throw up a few nuggets.
Was it daunting he was known for his ruthlessness when it came to business?
Of course it was, but I was a woman on the edge of watching her dreams fall into nothing.
I could be ruthless also.
I could be the cold-hearted businesswoman he always said I should be.
No one, not even the great Matthew Bradley, was going to mess with my fucking money…
.
“Mrs Bradley.” Rachel was on her feet and moving with purpose towards me.
The professional but cold smile upon her face did not dissuade me.
“Rachel,” I greeted in a tone that matched her smile.
Frigid.
The pass held tightly in my grip proved I meant business.
Reception and the security staff downstairs had fallen under the trap of my innocent face and sweet assurances Matt was expecting me.
I was still his wife after all, and it had gotten me almost to my goal.
“Reception advised me of your arrival,” she continued, blatantly blocking my way.
“You and I both know you’re not expected.”
“Where is he?” I asked.
“I must insist you turn around and leave before I have you escorted off the premises.” Rachel threatened.
My lips split in a chiding smile.
“Really? And risk an embarrassing scene? I think not. We both know that isn’t going to happen. Now where is he?” I looked past her shoulders, down the empty and silent hallway of the executive floor.
Matt’s office was around that corner.
“Mr Bradley is in a meeting-”
I quickly side-stepped her, tossing over my shoulder as I hurried away, “Sure he is.”
“Mrs Bradley.” Rachel had on heels, my feet were sneakers-clad.
She didn’t stand a chance.
The door to Matt’s office was closed.
I pushed it open, ready for him; only he wasn’t in there.
“Mrs Bradley!” Rachel was within the required distance to nab me and I remembered she was from Manchester.
A Northern bird who didn’t mess around.
A Mancunian.
They were not the sort of people you wanted to antagonize.
An unfounded generalization?
Maybe, but I wasn’t sticking around to find out.
Jerking back from her outstretched hand, I jogged down the hallway, opening doors on my way and unrepentantly hissing sorry if someone was in there.
Then I spotted the glass conference room and my eyes narrowed into feral slits as Matt’s completely recognizable suit-wearing frame stood in front a table full of seated men.
Bastards.
Where were the female executives?
Once I was finished with him, I would report them all for failing to pursue equality in the workplace at the top level.
“Mrs Bradley, please. ” Rachel’s desperate plea was close, I had unconsciously drawn to a stop upon seeing Matt.
Gripping the strap of my bag across my shoulder, I stormed towards the room like a vengeful goddess determined to right the wrong done to her.
He would rue the day.
“Hi honey,” I gushed with a saccharine breeziness when the door crashed open and everyone turned in my direction.
Matt’s face was a picture.
I committed it to memory for future amusement, right now I was too mad to enjoy his startled wide eyes and mouth hanging open.
“We need to talk. Right now.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as everyone’s gazes immediately went to Matt.
He was still staring at me in shock, then his incredulous gaze went behind me to fixate on Rachel.
Uh oh.
The surprised expression suddenly turned to one of barely restrained fury.
I actually heard her gulp.
It sounded loud and painful.
“I am so sorry, Mr Bradley,” she rushed to explain as one of her hands landed on my shoulder.
I shrugged her off before she got a good grip and strode towards the son of a bastard who was my husband.
A firm hand caught my arm and I turned in outrage even as that hand yanked me around.
Oww .
Adam.
Another frigging Bradley.
He had grabbed my arm and was now standing up while maintaining a vice-like hold on me.
“Get your bloody hand off me.” I commanded in a dark tone.
“How dare you barge into here?” He pushed his chair back, the movement caused him to jerk my arm once more, or maybe he intended to do that.
“Have you lost your blasted mind?” He tugged hard, turning sideways to scowl at Rachel.
“You’d better get her out of here or you’ll be seeking employment elsewhere by the end of today!”
My eyes popped right open and I glared at his thick meaty fingers wrapped around the sleeve of my coat, squeezing the flesh of my arm underneath the material.
Then I twisted my head in Matt’s direction.
The expression on his face this time…
at least it seemed directed at his brother instead of Rachel or me.
He closed the distance between us within a few long strides.
“This meeting is adjourned. Everyone out.” he demanded in a loud voice.
Chairs screeched back, papers and folders were gathered up, people started moving with speed.
Under the noise of the fleeing executives, Matt leaned closer to Adam, his words now came in a harsh whisper.
“Get your fucking hand off her.”
The grip on my arm tightened reflexively before it was gone.
Matt and Adam were staring at each other while I stood silent between their imposing forms as the last executive left and the door slammed shut.
My eyes jumped from one brother to the next, unable to decide who wore the stonier look.
“Don’t ever touch her like that again.” Matt said quietly in one quick exhale of air.
“Sort it out, Matt.” Adam’s incensed grumble grated on my nerves.
The ‘it’ no doubt a reference to me and my unexpected arrival.
And was he on drugs?
Grabbing my arm like that!
“I will,” Matt replied with a tight smile.
“But did you hear me? Don’t ever put your bloody hands on her, don’t you fucking dare touch her. Don’t ever do that again, Adam.”
Adam looked at me, making no effort to conceal his disgust.
“Fine.”
“Good.” Matt shot back.
“And?”
“And what?” Adam retorted, taking a few steps back.
I stayed quiet.
My time amongst Matt’s family had taught me one thing: don’t get involved when they’re having a go at each other.
Matt just stared at his older brother, not saying another word.
But his breathing became a tad more forceful as he stepped past me, putting his body partially between Adam and me.
The tension bounced from one to the other, they were both angry.
A sneer curled one corner of Adam’s mouth up when he glanced at me once again.
“My apologies. I overreacted.”
“Now leave us alone.” Matt said to Adam before he folded his arms and gave me his full attention.
I did catch the nasty look Adam sent my way right as he stormed out the conference room, but I labelled it under the ‘whatever’ part of my mind and focused on the love of my life who was now the bane of my existence.
Folding my own arms I faced my husband.
We stared at each other for a charged minute until Matt let out an exasperated sigh and cocked his head at me.
“I’m waiting.”
“Excuse me?”
He half-sat on the table’s edge.
“For you to explain why you think it’s acceptable to come to my workplace unannounced, interrupt an important board meeting, and cause me to have a proper go at my elder brother.” Matt’s eyes narrowed into dangerous grey slits.
“Well?”
I returned his look with one of my own.
“Seriously? You have no idea why I would be here? That’s how you want to play this? The I’m oblivious to what’s going on game?”
Matt exhaled, exasperated and clearly annoyed.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I did, Madison. Look, I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with one of your episodes today-”
The strangled growl vibrating from my throat made him pause.
One of my episodes?
The murderous urges were coming back.
With hands that trembled from rage, I rifled through my bag then pulled out the folded paper.
Shaking it open I shoved it under his nose.
“What is this ? Huh? Do you really believe I am going to let you get away with this?” The decibels of my voice were climbing now.
“Do you think I’m just going to bend over and let you-”
“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Matt cut me off and snatched the paper from my hand before squinting at it.
Then he reached inside his open jacket and pulled a pair of spectacles out from the inner pocket.
I watched speechless as he put them on, speechless for a whole two seconds.
“You’re wearing glasses? What did you do?” It was off-topic, I know, but Matt had perfect vision.
At least he had when we were together.
He scowled at me.
Certainly embarrassed, if the barely there red tinge ghosting across his cheeks was any indication as he replied coldly, “Eye strain.”