Chapter 16 #2
Zen-ness sounded better, yeah, Zen-ness was my new go-to word.
Instead of him giving me his usual pleased smirk whenever I blurted out some knowledgeable saying, he tilted his head to the side and maintained that clinical stare on me.
“Mmm,” he murmured after a few seconds.
“Quite an apt saying, considering my day.”
I regarded him silently, unsure of his overall demeanour, then pushed it aside.
Practically vibrating with excitement I said, “Ask me how my day was, Matt.”
My very handsome husband remained impassive as he asked me how my day went.
Again I gave him an uncertain look, perhaps his day at the office hadn’t been good after all.
Damned economy and falling oil prices!
“We got the mock up posters for the production.” I gushed, sticking my hands into the pockets of my khaki shorts, while rocking on my heels and feeling very pleased with myself.
Things were happening.
Within a few weeks there would be posters across London with me and my people emblazoned over it.
When Matt didn’t display the expected level of excitement, my buzz took a slight dip.
I gave him some more good news.
“ And Dante and I have started the choreography for the end of year production.” I started tugging my hair loose from the tight ponytail it had been in all day.
“It’s going to be great, I mean, it’s a tough balancing act right now, but once we’ve finished our show at the Royal Ballet we can really focus on it,” I flashed him a Colgate smile.
“Who knows? Maybe they will like this production too.”
Matt had yet to crack a smile at me and the way he kept staring at me caused a sliver of anxiousness to tremble within my stomach.
Crap.
Had he seen the vase?
In a pre-emptive move to extricate myself from his ill grace and any allocation of blame, I reached for his arm.
“Is everything ok? You seem,” I shrugged.
“Is something bothering you?”
Matt stepped back, away from my touch.
“You tell me, Madison.”
Crappity crap.
Full first name.
Yep, he’d seen the vase.
“I swear it wasn’t me, hon,” I explained earnestly.
“I found it with the chip and when I pointed it out to George, he had no idea how the vase got that way. Maybe it was the cleaning staff. That woman is more of a klutz than I am.”
Matt didn’t reply.
“Is it expensive? The contents insurance will cover any damage, right? Why are you staring at me like that, Matt?”
Matt moved further away but kept his unnerving gaze on me.
“Am I a good husband, Madison?”
Whoa.
Where did that come from?
“Um, yes,” I replied, blinking faster than usual.
“The best.”
His mouth pulled into a tight line as he nodded slowly.
“Have I not given you everything you could ever want?”
Okay.
I didn’t know the direction where this conversation was heading and my uneasiness increased.
Chewing my lower lip, I thought about my reply before giving it.
“I don’t ask for things, but I guess the answer is yes. What’s wrong?”
He nodded once more, as if silently confirming his own thoughts.
“You love me.”
“Of course,” I said anxiously, my eyes were wide as he reached for a folder propped on the mantle.
I hadn’t noticed it before.
“What’s wrong? You’re kind of freaking me out here.”
“You love me.” Matt repeated, his expression visibly hardened as he held the folder out to me.
“Yes.” It was obvious he wanted me to take the folder, so I did.
What in the hell was wrong with him?
I clutched the folder, my gaze scoured his features for some indication of what was going through his head.
I got nothing.
The impenetrable mask he wore mirrored the stark emptiness in his eyes.
Matt gestured to the folder in my hands.
Not knowing what to expect, I opened it.
The fuck?
“W-wha-what is this ?” I stammered in disbelief, staring at…
what the fuck was this?
“So,” Matt drawled coldly.
“If you love me, why were you in bed with another man?” His voice got louder, much louder.
“Why did you fuck another man?”
I was startled, by his raised voice, by his coarse language which he rarely used in anger with me, but most of all by the glossy photograph of me under some sheets in bed with a naked man!
“Matt,” My voice was loud too.
“What is this? I- this is a joke, right? Right?” There were more pictures.
Mouth parting in horror I looked through them all before raising incredulous eyes at my husband.
“This is a joke.”
“Do I look amused, Madison?” Matt asked.
He most definitely didn’t look amused.
A short bark of hysterical laughter left my lips.
“Matt, this is obviously a joke. Where did you get this from? These pictures are fake. Where on earth did you get this?”
Matt stalked towards me and Christ have mercy, I instinctively stumbled backwards.
The fury on his face made my blood run cold.
He must realize these photos were fake.
How could they be anything but fake?
“The thought had initially crossed my mind,” Matt confirmed as he paced my retreating steps.
“ Of course I believed they were fake. Why would I think anything else? You would never cheat on me. Right, poppet ?”
Oh God.
Why was he acting like this?
He had to know I would never be unfaithful to him.
He knew me, and he should damn well know these pictures were fake.
Someone had photo-shopped me.
Some weirdo, I don’t know how or why, but I had no idea how these pictures came to be.
The back of my legs bumped into the glass coffee table.
“I would never cheat on you. You have to know that.”
The smile he gave me was not a nice one, it was downright nasty and caused my mouth to tremble.
What was happening?
I glanced at the pictures in my hands; confused, scared and needing my husband to tell me everything would be ok.
I returned my gaze to Matt’s face.
Oh God.
He couldn’t think these photos were-
“Technology is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” Matt stopped following me.
“I don’t profess to be an expert, but I employ people who are.” Matt’s well-defined eyebrows were at ‘cataclysmic end of the world’ level.
He glared at me.
“People who know how to check metadata and things like error level analysis, very thoroughly.”
I laughed again.
Yes, another hysterical cackle.
Who knew I laughed like a hyena when nervous?
When Matt’s eyes went from grey to chrome silver I swallowed my nervous laughter and tried to make him see sense.
“Matthew, come on. Some pervert is messing with us. I would never let anyone touch me. You are the only man to ever touch me-”
“McGregor.” he spat out.
“You let him touch you. Who’s to say you haven’t engaged in other acts with different men?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I was getting angry now.
This whole situation was farcical.
Matt had a problem with his jealousy, a major problem where it concerned me; but his behaviour was now bordering on crazy.
“I didn’t let Dougie touch me and you know this.”
“Words,” Matt ran a hand through his dishevelled hair.
“Just words.” He spared a look at the pictures in my hands.
“But a picture is worth a thousand of them. What was it? Were you drunk? Did I not spend enough time with you? Did I not satisfy you, Madison? Did he fuck you good? Better than I did?”
I blinked slowly, the pictures slipped out my numb fingers, falling to the floor in an obscene splash of colour.
The undeniable fact Matt’s language continued in this harsh line spoke volumes.
“Ok, you need to calm down and listen to me. These photos are fake. I have never cheated on you. I love you, only you.”
A glimmer of hope surfaced in his eyes, but then he looked at the pictures on the floor and that glimmer disappeared.
“Matt,” I whispered, shaking both internally and externally.
“You can’t believe I would ever do that. You know me, knight.”
He turned away, heading back to the fireplace, giving me his back.
He still wore his work shirt and tailored trousers, the jacket and tie were nowhere in sight and the sleeves of his shirt were folded up to mid-arm.
“I know things have been strained between us not too long ago,” he replied quietly.
“I admit to putting some distance between us, before and after the McGregor incident,” Matt turned around, face taut with tension like his whole masculine body.
“Did I cause this? Did I push you away?”
“Matt, hon,”
“God.” he exclaimed, hands rising up to vigorously rub his face before he gave me the coldest look I’d ever seen upon his face.
“What do you expect me to think, Madison?”
“I expect you to believe me.” I said quietly.
How could he even think those vile pictures were the truth?
“If I didn’t know any better,” he replied without emotion.
“I could almost believe you. Almost. I won’t allow you to make a fool of me and I certainly won’t tolerate a marriage like my parents.”
In that moment I knew, I knew he had already made up his mind about the whole thing.
It was the way he held himself, the way he looked at me, the way his face twisted between pain, jealousy and finally pure anger.
Matt didn’t do things by halves, he was an all or nothing man, and the one unyielding characteristic about him that I feared the most was his unforgiving streak.
No one crossed Matthew Bradley and escaped unscathed.
I had to make him see sense.
“Trust me,” I said with a trembling voice as I walked towards him.
“Trust us.”
The anger on his face wavered for a moment over my poignant words.
They were his words.
During the course of our relationship, whenever my doubts threatened to derail us, he would always say that.
And I swallowed my fears and did.
I trusted him, trusted us .
Now it was his turn to reciprocate.
He needed to trust me.
Matt swallowed hard.
I saw his internal battle etched on every fibre of his being as I stopped a few steps in front of him and waited for him to accept the fact our love was stronger than anything else.
That together we could deal with any problem.
Then he said, “George has packed a bag for you. I need you to not be here right now. I need time.”
There it was.
The death knell of my absolute faith in him.
I couldn’t breathe, so sharp was the pain in my chest.
He needed time.
Everything was always on his time.
Almost everything he asked of me, I did.
The one time I needed him to trust me…
he couldn’t do it.
Staggering back as if shot, I turned and fled the room.
In a blur I found myself back in the foyer, snatching up my keys and bag, I didn’t even spare a minute to put on shoes before running out the front door.
It was one rule for him and another for me.
I guess when it came right down to it, Matt patently felt I had yet to earn his unconditional trust, something I gifted to him without question from the very first moment we met.
I had done nothing wrong, had given him no reason to ever doubt me; yet here I was, speeding away in my Cayenne sans footwear and feeling very much dead on the inside.
A few frigging photos, fake photos might I add, I didn’t care if he had NASA look over them, and my husband was willing to believe the worst of me.
That wasn’t a marriage, that wasn’t love; that was us playing pretend…
The drive to my old home barely registered.
To be honest, there was nowhere else for me to go.
When Dante opened the door, I was reluctant to just use my key in case Christine was there and they were bumping pelvises; when he opened the door and saw me standing outside without shoes he freaked.
Who could blame him?
You knew some funky shit must have gone down for any woman to leave home without shoes on her feet.
Well, he freaked, I burst into tears like a sap, and that resulted in us sat on the couch eating carrot sticks and salsa.
Thank God, Christine wasn’t there.
“I’m going over.” Dante said for the tenth time.
“Have a man-to-man chat with him. Didn’t I tell you he was crazy? I told you he was a crazy ass.”
I sniffed and crunched on my carrot.
“Are you sure he didn’t have something to do with this? It all seems suspect to me.” Dante continued to rant.
“Where did he get these pictures from? You said he said someone confirmed it wasn’t fake? Who? Nah man. That doesn’t sound right to me. How could he even think you would cheat?” Dante peered at me for a moment, a short suspicious moment; then he shook his head.
“There’s no way you’d do that. He’s a crazy ass.”
It warmed my heart some one knew I wasn’t the type of person to cheat, shame my husband didn’t know it.
“He said he needs time,” I advised morosely.
Dante snorted and dipped his carrot stick into the salsa before taking a bite.
We both fell silent, crunching away together.
My gaze wandered around the living room.
I missed this house, this sofa, the coffee table…
what the?
Who cracked the edge of my coffee table?
“I’m telling you, sweet cheeks,” Dante resumed speaking.
“It sounds fishy to me. Are you sure Matt’s not behind this?”
Waving a carrot stick at my friend, I said, “However crazy Matt’s acting right now, I know he would never do something this underhand. If he was unhappy with me, he’d just tell me point-blank.”
It was the truth.
Matt didn’t play games like these.
“What if-” Dante’s full lips were stretched into an unhappy line.
Whatever new theory he’d thought of I didn’t want to hear.
“D, please. Right at this moment I just want to not think. I’m sure once he’s had a good night sleep, he’ll realize how ridiculous this whole thing is.”
Dante heard the pleading in my voice and patted my cheek in a show of support.
“You know it’s the money, don’t you? Rich people are insane. Just look at you.”
“What?” I dropped my half-bitten carrot stick in the dip and frowned at my best friend.
Dante shrugged then poked my shoulder.
“Hell, you were a millionaire at eighteen, and trust me when I say you were crazy. You still are.”
Only a best friend could get away with a comment like that.
Dante was lucky I was still reeling from the blow out with my husband.
Uncurling myself from the sofa I stood up and stretched.
“Is the guest room set up? I need some sleep.”
Dante’s eyebrows shot up as he too got to his feet.
“I don’t use your old bedroom. This is still your house.”
I sighed, leaned in for a quick hug from Dante, then headed for the stairs.
A good night’s sleep cured all ills.
Tomorrow I would call Matt and tell him to act right.
Forget his request for time.
Why should I give it to him when he hardly ever gave me any?
No, tomorrow I would take a page out of his book and issue demands.
Tomorrow I was going to behave like a bloody Bradley.
“Madi,” Gloria waltzed into my office holding some letters.
I hoped they weren’t bills.
“I just came off the phone with The Royal Ballet. Someone needs to go down there and check out our stage props for the production.”
With haggard eyes I watched her place the bunch of mail on my desk and nodded quickly before turning back to the computer screen in front of me.
“And I’ve sent out the circular to the parents of the children’s classes concerning the chicken pox,” she advised me.
“Another pupil has caught it.”
“Thanks, hon,” I muttered, glad that was one task I didn’t have to add to my plate.
“I’ve also scheduled an assessment class this coming Saturday for Jiao. Did I pronounce that right? Anyway, either you or Dante will need to be here to observe her in action. I have a good feeling about her, Madi. She’ll mesh well with the other instructors. Her references all check out by the way.”
“We’ll see,” I murmured distractedly as I went over the monthly expenses and tallied my business’ balance sheet.
Gloria lingered, sneaking concerned looks in my direction.
I futilely tried to arrange my face into a mask of serenity.
“Are you ok, chuck?” she asked, absent-mindedly drumming her manicured nails over the edge of my desk.
“Mhmm,” I took the time to flash her a reassuring smile.
Couldn’t let my troops know I was secretly falling apart on the inside.
A quick peek at my watch confirmed it was well past lunch.
“Have you taken your lunch hour yet, Gloria?”
“I’m about to head out,” she said.
“Want me to pick up some sandwiches for you and the guys?”
I reached into my desk and pulled out some cash before handing it over to the best receptionist/part-time ballet instructor ever.
“Thanks. Can you get me that Greek salad? The one with the-”
“Olives and sundried tomatoes,” she finished for me.
“You’re a star,” I called to her back as she exited the office and left me to my boring spreadsheets.
Not being a numbers nerd, the monotonous ledger checks were strangely calming to me today.
Perhaps because it all made logical sense.
My life at the moment was illogical, a mess, completely fucked.
Two days of constant texting, emails, and calls, had garnered no response from Matt.
Turning up at our home on three separate occasions had been useless.
On each occasion George had stated Matt wasn’t in, and George’s frigid attitude had broken my nerve of waiting around for Matt’s return.
Acting like a Bradley hadn’t worked for me.
Then this morning I had gotten the call .
Not from my uncharacteristically stupid husband, but his solicitor.
A call notifying me that any further communications were to be made via legal channels.
A call notifying me that in line with UK laws only after a year of marriage could a divorce be sought, but Matt wanted me to be made aware that divorce proceedings would commence as soon as the required time was up and there was no possible option of reconciliation.
His solicitor also advised I should seek my own counsel.
Yes.
My idiotic, blind, fool of a husband had unleashed his solicitors on me.
He was willing to destroy our marriage, all over something that wasn’t true.
And I didn’t care what he said, or who had authenticated them; those photos were faked.
A part of me had even begun to suspect Dante may have been right.
What if Matt had grown tired of our marriage?
We had gotten hitched pretty fast.
What if he realized I wasn’t the woman he truly wanted to be with?
I had never signed the post-nuptial agreement Portia had demanded of me.
Fabricating evidence of infidelity would work in his favour.
What if he simply wanted to get rid of me without having to pay a large settlement?
In that scenario I could totally understand Dante’s point of view.
I had been right about him from the get-go.
Matthew Bradley was a crazy gazillionaire.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid man.” I grumbled out loud.
Considering where things stood, my behaviour was remarkably calm.
There was no personality changing depression, no more tears, just a deep burning anger at Matt’s unbelievable decision.
Even if this alleged infidelity was true, which it most certainly was not…
didn’t our marriage warrant a second chance in his eyes?
Was our love not worth fighting for?
“Dumb ass.” My fingers scrolled over the mouse pad as I copied and pasted.
It was obvious ‘denial’ was the word for today.
Never had I imagined after a mere six and a bit months of marriage I would be facing a possible divorce.
Only celebrities did stuff like that!
And I still couldn’t comprehend his unwavering belief those photos were real.
It seemed I had fallen afoul of technology goblins and karma had decided to take a dump on me.
Many a public career had been ruined by similar things.
Sex tapes, embarrassing statements recorded, ill-thought out posts on social media forums, hacked e-mail accounts, and third party exposés.
There were countless ways a person’s life could be ruined by technology.
But I was innocent of any wrongdoing and Matt, stupid Matt, was too mired in his jealous hurt to see clearly.
What made it worse was his complete unwillingness to speak to me, to listen.
It was as if he’d constructed an impenetrable wall between us, guarded by George and his secretary, and that bloody answer machine of his.
He had simply cut me out of his life as if I was nothing more than an after-thought.
I was his frigging wife!
How could he do this?
The utter lack of respect he showed had woken my anger.
I would be damned if I begged anymore.
Aunt Cleo had been right all along.
He had thrown me away, just like that.
“Asswipe.” I grumbled, then picked up my cell.
Fuck it.
He couldn’t treat me like this.
Selecting the number from my contacts I prepared to face guard-dog number 2, the ever-professional Rachel.
“Bradley Industries. How may I help you?”
“Hi, Rachel,” I spoke calmly.
“How are you?”
“Mrs Bradley,” Her tone immediately became softer.
“Mr Bradley is not in at the moment.”
My sigh was loud and frustrated.
“I know he’s in today. He has an important meeting with some investors. Please put the call through.”
There was a pregnant pause on her end, then, “I’m not supposed to, Mrs Bradley.”
“I know,” I agreed bitterly.
“But put me through anyway.”
“I can lose my job if I do that, Mrs Bradley.” she hedged, playing on my pity.
“Never,” I scoffed lightly, trying to play on our camaraderie.
“Matt knows you’re the best. He’ll never sack you.” Hey, flattery goes a long way.
She muttered something too low for me to hear then said, “If I lose my job-”
“You won’t,” I promised.
Another inaudible grumble from her before, “He’s in a foul mood. I’ve never seen him like this, Mrs Bradley. Maybe you should call back another time.”
“Put the call through, Rachel.” I said firmly.
“I’ll transfer the call through from my personal line. Don’t get me fired.” she murmured then put the call through.
I took a deep breath as I waited for Matt to pick up.
“What is it, Rachel? I’m busy.” Matt’s deep voice was a jolt to my senses.
God.
I missed his voice.
“Don’t hang up.” I spoke quickly.
There was silence and I wondered if he would ignore my plea, dismally expecting the sound of dial tone in my ear.
“Madison,” Was all he said.
Cold, unfriendly, my name had never sounded so horrible.
“I got a call from your lawyer this morning,” My words were rushed, agitated.
“Solicitor,” he corrected.
“And I know.”
The tiny smile that ghosted over my lips at his unconscious habit of training British vernacular into me disappeared at the very matter-of-fact way he spoke.
As if we were discussing business contracts, not our marriage.
“You can’t be serious,” I tried to infuse some authority into my tone.
“You’re a liar and a cheat, Madison,” he replied.
“Those are not traits one would expect from a wife.”
“Matt, those photos aren’t real. I didn’t do anything.” Why would he not listen?
“And you’re making a mistake.”
He cleared his throat softly then delivered a harsh blow.
“I have made arrangements for your personal belongings to be delivered to your home in the next few days. I’ve also removed your name from our personal joint accounts, your cards have been cancelled.”
“Do you love me?” I had to ask.
The question and its answer were the only things that mattered.
The lengthy pause once again had me wondering if he ended the call.
“Matt?” I pressed for a response.
“Does it matter?” he asked quietly, his smooth deep voice carried a distinct edge of anger.
“Love is nothing without trust, and it’s obvious I can’t trust you. Now I have a very busy day ahead so if there’s nothing else,”
His dismissal hurt in ways I couldn’t begin to describe.
“How can you act like this with me, Matt? As if I mean less than nothing to you? I don’t understand-”
“There’s nothing to understand,” he cut me off harshly.
“You cheated and got caught, simple as. I blame myself, should have known better. Someone of your age and background, well, I should have known better.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I implied,” he shot back.
“I can’t bloody do this, Madison! You have no idea what your betrayal has done to me. The worst part is you lack the common decency to admit to your infidelity even though it has been proven. Stop lying, the photos are real and I’m not discussing this with you anymore. Don’t call me and get a damned solicitor.”
The loud click in my ear signified he’d ended our call.
I put my cell down and stared blankly at the computer screen.
He had made his mind up, and there was nothing I could say or do to change it.
Matt was making a mistake, but it was his mistake to make.
He had refused to even entertain the thought of fighting for me, for us.
I wrapped my hurt pride around me, angry and defeated.
This wasn’t a fairy tale, this was life, my life; and it was screwed.
What was I supposed to do now?
Cry?
Fuck that.
Curse?
Been done that.
Drive over there and clock him a hard one?
Probably get charged with assault.
What the hell was I supposed to do now?
I lacked the necessary relationship experience to deal with this cluster fuck.
How did one make another person see and understand something they simply refused to acknowledge?
What could I do?
Locking the computer screen, I pushed away from my desk and glanced down at the ballet shoes on my feet.
There was only one thing to do.
Dance.
Striding for the door my inner voice lamented the circumstances I’d found myself in, lamented and chastised.
I should have never let the sexy bastard pop my goddamned cherry.