CHAPTER 2 #2
There was a slight pause before Matt said, “What is it, poppet?”
“Promise first,” I hedged.
Another deliberate pause on his end.
One that lasted almost a minute.
Man.
Why did I have to fall in love with a ruthless business tycoon?
One minute turned to two and I heard him clearing his throat in a threatening manner.
“Matt, this is running up my phone bill. Just promise and I’ll tell you.” I negotiated.
“Tell me whatever it is you feel you have to tell me and then I’ll decide what my response will be.” he replied in a tone that brooked no argument.
Stupid domineering man .
I sighed out loud then took a deep breath before ’fessing up.
“Dougie came to the show tonight and I know you don’t want me talking to him but I couldn’t very well ignore him and he’s a really nice person so I don’t get why you don’t like him but he bought me flowers and he kissed me hello and I think a photographer got a picture so it might be in the papers or maybe not but I’m telling you now so you won’t be mad if it is and,” I had to take a deep breath here and I rushed to finish before Matt could yell at me.
“He said he bought tickets for every night the show is on and that’s really sweet don’t you think? But I didn’t speak to him for long maybe less than five minutes so you can’t get angry but I didn’t want to be rude and I got your bouquet by the way I loved it.” Another deep gasp for air.
“I love you very very much please don’t shout.”
I closed my eyes and waited, phone pressed to my ear.
Maybe I shouldn’t hold it so close in preparation of the expected tirade.
“Where exactly did he kiss you?” Matt asked in a quiet voice.
I could picture how his eyes would be right now.
The grey darkening ever so slightly in anger.
“On the cheek of course!” I had a right to sound indignant.
What sort of woman did he think I was?
“You know you have a serious problem, don’t you? Jealousy is an ugly trait and you have absolutely no reason to feel so. Dougie just wants to be my friend, Matt. Oh and he congratulated us on our engagement. See? He just wants to be my friend.”
There was another pause before he asked in that unnervingly quiet and calm tone of his, “He bought tickets for every night?”
“Umm, yes,” I said.
“Most likely as a show of support. I couldn’t stop talking about the production when we had lunch at the Dorchester. So, um, when are you coming home?”
Matt chuckled.
It was not the reaction I expected and it didn’t sound like a maniacal chuckle either, more like a ‘my poppet is so amusing’ chuckle.
“Sweetheart,” he said softly.
“Don’t try and change the subject.”
“I like it when you call me sweetheart.” I murmured.
“Still trying to change the topic I see,” he mused.
“We’re engaged, in my eyes we’re practically married. I’m not worried about McGregor stealing you away from me, although I would still prefer for you to stay away from him-”
“Matt!”
“Let me finish,” he intoned dryly.
“If you want to establish some form of friendly interaction with McGregor, I’ll allow it-”
“Excuse me?” I interjected loudly.
Allow it?
The hell was wrong with him?
“Stop interrupting me, poppet,” Matt said.
“As I was saying, if you want to be friends with him, I have no problem with this,”
“Uh hmm,” I replied sceptically, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“As long as I’m around whenever you want to be friendly with him, there won’t be any issues.”
I snorted in amusement.
Silly man.
“What if he wants to hang out after tonight’s performance? Or tomorrow’s?”
“Then you respectfully decline until we can make arrangements for us all to hang out when I’m back in England, poppet.”
I giggled, unable to stop it.
He made me laugh.
“You are the silliest man I’ve ever met and I miss you.”
“I’ve not been gone long,” he said.
“I miss you.”
“Good,” he replied huskily.
“When are you moving in with me?”
“Wow, would you look at the time? I need to go to sleep.” I teased.
“Not funny.” he grumbled.
“Can we discuss it when you get back?”
“Mmm, there isn’t much to discuss. We’re engaged and I want you living with me. What else is there to say about the matter?”
An eye roll took place on my part.
I refused to get drawn into it with him over the phone.
“So when exactly are you coming home, Matt?”
“Hopefully before the 25th.” He didn’t sound certain at all.
“My parents mentioned they’ve invited you to the estate for Christmas, if I haven’t returned by then I’ll arrange for you to go with Hannah.”
I sat up against the pillows.
Yes, his parents had extended an invitation to me.
The call from Portia had come hours after Matt’s plane had left jolly ole’ England.
It was an awkward call.
Two days after our restaurant dinner/ordeal, I had gotten a call from Matt’s dad.
He apologized for what was said and asked if we could start afresh, then he put his wife on.
Portia Bradley didn’t do apologies very well.
I was left feeling undecided about the whole thing.
Matt had been pleased but he warned me to not expect too much too soon.
“Umm, I don’t want to go if you’re not here. I’d much rather chill out at home. It’s the only day we have off while the production is on.”
“If I’m not back by then, I don’t want you on your own for Christmas, Madison.” he replied.
Ah, complete first name, someone was trying to put his foot down.
“And I’m not going if you’re not here, Matthew.” I repeated firmly.
There was a moment of silence and in that time I again pondered my phone bill.
“Fine,” he caved and I high fived my pillow.
Hey, these victories counted to me.
“I’ll try my best to be home by then, that way we can all be together. Adam doesn’t want to be here any longer than necessary either.”
I yawned and snuggled back down.
“I love you.”
“Is that my cue to leave you to your sleep?” he murmured.
“Mhmm.” I yawned again.
“Alright then, I’ll call you sometime tomorrow.”
“Ok. Don’t work too hard.”
“I love you, poppet. Get some rest.” he said softly.
“Bye.” I hung up and turned the bedside light off.
My buzz had fizzled out and sleep was calling my name.
I answered.
“See you guys on Boxing Day.”
I waved goodbye as the few remaining dancers walked out the side exit.
A sigh left my lips as I ran down the check list in my head.
It was Christmas Eve.
Tonight’s show had been great, in fact, since opening night each subsequent performance seemed to transcend the prior one.
“Madi, the back is all locked up,” Dante advised as he walked down one of the aisles.
He stopped to pick up a bit of rubbish left by a member of the audience with a grimace.
“The cleaning company is coming early morning on Boxing Day, right?”
I chewed my lower lip and nodded.
They had better be here.
I rubbed my eyes, sucking my teeth at the uncomfortable fake eyelashes before stretching the kinks out my back.
We were always the last to leave.
“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Dante asked on his approach.
I shrugged under my coat.
There were no plans.
Matt was still in Russia and I didn’t really have anyone else to spend Christmas day with.
“You can still join-” he began.
“No.” I stopped him with a pout.
“Watching you and Christine smooching under mistletoe is not my definition of a Merry Christmas. Plus, I don’t know her that well and you said it’s going to be a big family thing. No thank you.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being alone tomorrow.” Dante groused and I bit my tongue to avoid blurting out a plea for him to blow off the lovely Christine and spend the day with me.
“I’ll be fine, Dante. Probably spend the whole day in bed or curled up on the sofa watching tv.”
“You haven’t even got a tree,” he continued to complain.
“You always get a tree.”
I shrugged my shoulders again.
What was the point?
Dante scrutinized my features for a moment then asked the question I knew he’d been wanting to ask but hadn’t up until now.
“Have you heard from them?”
My shake of head was accompanied with a bitter twist of lips.
There was silence from my estranged family across the pond.
And I was still stalking their Facebook pages.
Like a freak, I eagerly read Jenny’s and Jamal’s updates, searching for any hidden messages, for any form of tentative contact in my direction…
there was none.
Aunt Cleo wasn’t a prolific user of the social network, her posts were mainly about Church and work.
I still took some comfort in reading them.
“I’m sure Auntie Cleo will come around.” Dante said supportively.
“She knows you’re engaged to Matt, right?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, I sent her an email but she didn’t respond. Maybe she didn’t get it, it might have been spammed by accident.”
Dante rubbed his face then smiled at me.
“Come on. I’ve got your present in the office.”
I returned his smile.
“Is it something big? Something pricey?”
He snorted and nudged my arm.
“Don’t get me mixed up with your rich sugar daddy.”
“Fiancé.” I corrected.
“I’m going to marry him.”
“Huh. You haven’t set a date yet, until then I’m calling him your sugar daddy.”
He slipped an arm through mine and we ambled down the aisle, flicking the lights off as we left the empty auditorium.
When we entered the office, the first thing I spotted was a large, neatly-wrapped rectangular object with a bow in the middle.
It was propped in front the desk.
I glanced at Dante’s grinning face.
“It’s big-ish,” I muttered.
“Where’s my present?” Dante folded his arms with a mock scowl replacing his grin.
“Have you been a good boy this year, Dante Palmer?” I teased while walking around the table to open the drawer I’d put his gift in this morning.
The box had been wrapped by my own hands, needless to say there were a few bumps and ripples in the overall finish.
I handed it over, smiling with excitement.
“Here you go. Merry Christmas.”
“Open yours first.” He decided the order in which we would do it.
I did.
Then my eyes swam with tears.
“It’s beautiful, Dante. How did you-”
“The last time I was home I found the original so I had it magnified and framed-”
“I love it,” I leaned the picture back against the table and threw myself into Dante’s arms.
“I love you. You’re the best friend a girl can ask for.”
He chuckled and squeezed me tight.
We broke apart and stared at the framed picture.
It had been taken by Dante’s mom if I remembered correctly.
Dante was in a pose with one leg extended behind him, hands on my waist as he elevated me slightly.
My body was arched, one leg held aloft, arms out gracefully.
“I fell on stage that night,” I recalled with an embarrassed grin.
“The weeks after at SAB were torture. Remember how Tatiana would always-”
“Bring it up whenever she could, yeah, I remember.” Dante finished my sentence with a devious smirk on his face.
“Until that day you got some of the guys to all complain that she was too heavy to lift. She bawled like a kid who was just told Santa Claus was a myth.”
“Served her right.” Dante said with grim satisfaction.
“It took you a while to get your confidence back after that, but you did.”
I waved the memories away and gestured to his gift.
“Open yours.”
He held it up to his ear and shook it slightly, then peeled the paper off.
I chewed my lower lip.
Dante gave me a quick look as he ran a finger over the box then opened it.
“Madi,” he gasped, a frown already starting to form.
“Before you make a fuss. I got it on discount and I know your last watch got smashed that night we were out with Sol and Brett.” I slid closer to him.
“I got it inscribed too.”
Dante took out the Breitling watch and I took the empty box from him.
He turned it over and read the inscription.
His jaw clenched tightly as he swallowed and raised his warm brown eyes to mine, then he leaned over the mess on our desk and picked up the telephone.
For once it was actually where it should be.
I chewed my lips again.
Why hadn’t he said anything?
“Dante,” I began and he held a finger up as he punched out some numbers before putting the phone to his ear.
“Hey babe,” he said quickly.
“Look, I’m sorry but there’s a change of plans for tomorrow- (pause) - of course I’ll stop by but- (pause) - I can meet everyone some other time, Chrissie.”
My eyes were wide as Dante’s face twisted in displeasure.
He was obviously bailing on his plans with Christine…
for me.
Five minutes later he hung up the phone and gave me a small smile.
I smiled back.
“You didn’t have to do that, Dante.”
He shrugged and regarded the watch in his hand.
His smile grew and damn if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“My fearless dreamer?” he teased, but the depth of emotions in his eyes…
it brought tears to mine.
He pulled me into a hug.
“You’re the fearless one, Madi. Always have been, you just don’t see it. Now let’s get out of here, I’m staying over at yours tonight so I’m expecting to be fed.”
We got our stuff, double checked everywhere was locked, and got in our separate cars before driving to my place.
Behind the wheel I watched his headlights in my rear view mirror.
It was obvious I had unknown mental powers.
How else could it be explained?
I had secretly wanted him to spend the day with me and it was happening.
Now all I had to do was perfect said powers and use them on Matt.
Ha.
The Vulcan was going down.
I shook my head at the silly thoughts running through my mind and focused on driving.
The roads were quiet, at 11:30pm on Christmas Eve it was expected.
The Christmas lights put up along the street lamps by the Council twinkled merrily.
I wished it would snow, but this was England.
A white Christmas morning was few and far between, this year would be no different.
Maybe up in Scotland, but Greenwich London, no.
Dougie McGregor.
Thinking of Scotland made me think of the Scotsman.
True to his word he had been in the audience every night and every night he gave me a bouquet of red roses as I quizzed him over the performance.
He had yet to admit which part he enjoyed the most.
He was a strange one, but fun, completely different from the wealthy people I had dealt with since being with Matt.
Dougie was down-to-earth, I guess him being around my age helped.
Our interaction was easy, almost as if we had always been friends, although Dante wasn’t too sure about him.
When the introductions had been made between them, Dante had eyed him closely, spent fifteen minutes chatting to him then cornered me and asked if Matt knew some other rich white man was hanging around me.
My closest friend had earned a smack on his head for that, he wisely refrained from making any other comments on the issue but I caught him observing Dougie quietly on more than one occasion.
It was with relief I parked up in front my house.
As much as I loved every second of prepping for and completing each performance, I was exhausted.
Ten days of non-stop activity was beginning to take its toll.
Huh, come the 29th, the final night of our production; I would be wailing that it was over too soon and bugging Dante about creating some new masterpiece.
“I’m exhausted.” Dante sighed as he held my framed picture while I opened the front door.
“Me too,” I murmured.
“Straight to bed or do you want something to eat?”
We walked in and I flicked the lights on.
My house was devoid of Christmas cheer.
Maybe I should have bought a tree.
“Why isn’t the heating on, sweet cheeks?” Dante said as he placed the stuff in his hands on the sofa and took my bag off me.
“Brrr. Do you want me to reset the timer on your thermostat?”
“Umm, yes, now that you mention it. The damned thing comes on at the oddest time. Bed or food?”
Dante patted his stomach.
I grinned and immediately kicking off my sneakers before heading to the kitchen while he headed upstairs to tame my misbehaving boiler.
I sang Silent Night under my breath as I moved around my kitchen, quickly grabbing stuff from the cupboards and fridge to make us a very late dinner.
“Argh. My ears.” Dante groaned when he walked in ten minutes later.
“Shut up. I can sing.”
“Uh, no.” he said bluntly.
“Sleep in heavenly peace.” I screeched and Dante winced.
His expression was one of pain so I toned it down to humming.
He came over to stand next to me, automatically helping with the food prep.
“So,” he began in a serious voice.
“When are you setting the date?”
I shrugged.
“Don’t really know. Matt and I haven’t discussed it in detail.”
“Mmm.” was Dante’s only response before he scowled at the salad leaves.
“Have you seen the latest emails?”
The beginnings of dread bubbled in my stomach as I nodded quickly.
“I saw them this morning. It’ll blow over.”
My best friend frowned some more.
“I don’t like it, Madi. It’s escalating fast. You got the first one when? The 18th?”
I nodded again and scuffed my sock covered toes over the kitchen floor.
Ever since the 18th our work email was being bombarded with hate mail.
It had started off with a ‘fuck you nigger bitch’ and gotten progressively worse.
I was sure it would blow over.
“I’ve blocked the-”
“And that hasn’t stopped it yet, Madi. We’ll need to change the work email. Asshole or assholes must have gotten it from our website.” Dante grumbled.
He was annoyed, the fact he wasn’t calling me sweet cheeks meant he was very annoyed…
and worried.
I knew he laid the blame at Matt’s doorstep.
Whoever this person or persons were, they seem to have taken it personal; my relationship with one Matthew Bradley that is.
The sicko was obviously some racist who couldn’t get over the fact someone like Matt would be with someone like me.
A couple of the emails had spouted some nonsense about English pride and whatnot.
“Haters gonna hate, Dante.” I replied.
“It’ll blow over.”
“Have you told your sugar daddy?” he queried.
“Why would I do that? It’s nothing and I’m not going to bother him with something that’s going to blow over. I’ll change the work email tomorrow.”
“Yes, you will,” Dante warned.
He’d been on me to do it since yesterday but I’d been busy.
We were both busy.
“And you’re not putting it up on our website. I’ll create another one with my name for the website. That should stop it. Gloria’s been dealing with the nonsense they’re putting on Twitter and Instagram.”
I sighed and changed the subject.
“Did you read the review in the Telegraph? It was good, wasn’t it?”
“Hmph,” Dante snorted.
“It was mainly about your sugar daddy and him not making an appearance to watch you.”
“Uh, there was a paragraph on the quote, sublime movements of Dante Palmer, unquote.” I pointed out.
Dante grinned.
“They wrote you and Bri were exceptional. I think I’m going to finally forgive you for going to the other side, sweet cheeks. At least your relationship is getting us publicity that we would never have gotten before.”
Ah.
Sweet cheeks.
He wasn’t annoyed anymore.
I elbowed him with a mock scowl on my face.
“We are not using my relationship to further our dance company. I hate the media intrusion as it stands already and they always get pictures of my ass.”
“It is a sweet ass.” Dante quipped as he leaned back to eye my ass.
“Not too big, not too small, just perfect. Like a peach.”
I shook my head at him and continued what I was doing.
It hit me then, the lack of flutter.
There were no butterflies in my stomach, no increased heart rate, no rush of blood to my face.
Oh my.
I surreptitiously observed him from lowered lashes.
When had it happened?
When had I let go of my childhood crush on my best friend?
I mean, it had to have happened at some point, I was an engaged woman.
But when had my secret feelings faded away?
“Why are you smiling like that?” Dante asked.
I shrugged and glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Merry Christmas.”
He nudged me with his hip and I nudged him back as he said, “Merry Christmas.”
We fell into a comfortable silence that was only broken when we’d finished cooking and were sat at the table.
“You know I’m happy for you, right?” Dante wiped his mouth with a paper towel.
“I know I haven’t really given you that impression, but we’ve been so busy and-”
“I know, Dante.” I replied warmly.
“I know.”
“Just make sure he doesn’t knock you up anytime soon.” Dante warned.
I grimaced.
Ugh.
Babies.
“Not a chance. Besides, I doubt Matt wants kids. We’re compatible like that.”
“And he’s like what? Forty? Fifty?”
“Shut up. He’s thirty seven and you know that already. Asshole.”
Dante grinned and kept quiet as he resumed eating.
This Christmas was going into the top ten file.
No bah humbug this year…
Matt rolled on his side, groggily waking up due to the peel of his mobile.
He glanced at the bedside clock and groaned as his hand fumbled on the bedside table to find the offending piece of technology.
4am on Christmas morning.
Whoever it was would get an earful.
When he saw the caller id a tired smile curled his lips up.
“Merry Christmas, poppet.” he greeted huskily.
Then he jerked in surprise at the male voice that responded with a, “Matthew Bradley?”
“Who in the bloody hell is this?” Matt struggled into an upright position, already calculating the time difference and wondering why some man was calling from his poppet’s mobile at this time on Christmas morning.
“It’s Dante Palmer.”
“Oh.” Relief filled Matt’s body but it was short-lived.
Why was Dante calling from Madi’s mobile.