Chapter 19.2
Matt closed the door of his hotel room and expelled a harassed sigh. Tugging at the tie around his neck, he wandered over to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink. He usually enjoyed travelling, be it for pleasure or work. He found it a chore now, and this was only his third day in the Netherlands. They were trying to broker a deal with Shell. Bastards had requested the meetings take place at their Netherlands headquarters, instead of London. It had annoyed him to the point of wanting to send someone else, but the only other person who could accompany Nathan on this deal was Adam, who was sick, or so he said. Matt didn’t quite believe the hoarseness of his voice and hacking cough was an unfortunate chest infection. He tossed back his drink and headed for the shower, needing to wash the stuffy boardroom smell off his skin. An hour later, he felt relieved as he walked out, encased in a bathrobe and towelling his hair. He went over to check his phone and saw a few missed calls from Adam. Finishing off his hair, he ordered room service, then turned on his laptop before calling his brother. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten pm, the UK was only one hour behind.
“Adam, you called,” Matt said.
“Yes. How are things over there, Matt?”
“Tedious,” Matt replied bad-temperedly. “And Nathan and I still have a week left here. It’s been raining all day. If I have to put up with rain, I’d rather it be in England.”
Adam chuckled, then broke off with a chesty cough. Matt frowned for a second.
“Have you been to the doctor, Adam? You sound terrible.”
Adam cleared his throat—it sounded painful to Matt—then said, “I’m on antibiotics, don’t worry. Listen, the reason I called earlier—”
“To check up on the deal, yes, I know, I’ve sent you an email with where things currently stand.”
“No, that’s not why.” Adam paused and cleared his throat again, this time it sounded different, like he was unsure of what next to say.
“Well?” Matt prompted.
“How are things with you and Madi?” he asked.
Matt couldn’t help the smile that graced his face. “Fine. I have a newfound appreciation for walking into my home. Nothing quite like seeing her curled up in bed waiting for me. You know, you should start thinking about your own love life. You can’t be the perpetual playboy forever.”
Adam let out a sharp bark of derisive laughter. “As if I’m going to take advice on relationships from my younger brother but, back on point, are you sure everything is fine?”
Matt didn’t like the tone Adam was taking with him, not one bit. “Of course I am,” he snapped. “I just said so.”
“Don’t get snarky, Matt. I wanted confirmation—”
“Why?” Matt cut him off curtly.
“Well, remember Diana Rocheford? Second wife of Frank Rocheford?”
Matt searched his memory, trying to put a face to the name. “The blonde?”
“No, that’s his new wife, Penny. Diana is the one who—
“Gossips like it’s going out of style. Yes, I remember now. The redhead with ample assets. What about her?”
“It’s gotten back to me that she has it on reputable source that your lovely Madison was having a cosy lunch with that Scottish lad at The Dorchester today. What’s his name? The one whose family owns those distilleries…Dougal—”
“Bloody McGregor?” Matt hissed down the line. “Not a chance, Adam.”
“Don’t kill the messenger. I’m just telling you what I heard.”
“You know I don’t put stock in their idle chit-chat,” Matt grumbled uneasily. “Especially if it’s from that woman. Didn’t she start that rumour about Louisa’s cousin that turned out to be completely untrue a few years back?”
Adam sighed. “I didn’t want to say this, but it’s not just Diana. Oliver Johnston saw too. He called me directly to ask if you two were finished. I, of course, told him to mind his bloody business, but I had to ask you, Matt. Are you sure everything is okay between you and Madi?”
“Yes, dammit, I am bloody sure,” Matt said angrily.
“Right then…it’s just that she’s a beautiful young woman and you work long hours and travel a lot. She could possibly be feeling neglected. Have you bought her anything nice recently? Why don’t you take her away when you get back to London? Spend some quality—”
“Adam,” Matt growled down the line. “Madi and I are fine. I have to go. Room service is at the door. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night.” He hung up before his brother could say another word and stalked over to yank open the door and allow the hotel’s staff to wheel his gourmet meal in and lay it out on the dining table. With his mobile in hand, Matt walked over to the table to get cash for the man as a customary tip.
Matt slammed the door shut and immediately dialled her number.
“Hey, hon.” She greeted him warmly. “How are things over there?”
“Are you home, poppet?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. “I mean home as in Kensington, not your place?”
“No, I’m home in Greenwich.” she replied.
“I want to see you. Go get your iPad so we can Skype. I’ll call you in ten minutes.” Matt ended the call before she could say another word, fully away of how abrupt he was being. What in God’s name was she doing with McGregor? It couldn’t be true.
Ten minutes later Matt sat at the table, logged on to his Skype account and called her. The sight of her smiling face soothed some of the anger inside him. But, beautiful as she was, Matt was a man who rarely beat around the bush.
“Madison DuMont,” he began in a stern voice. “Why am I hearing tales of you and Dougal McGregor enjoying lunch at The Dorchester? That’s one of our favourite restaurants, so I know it’s highly unlikely to be true.” Matt scowled at the screen. “But, on the slim chance it is, I’m asking you now. Did you meet with McGregor for lunch today?”
Her face was a picture. A surprised picture of uneasy shock. “How on earth do you know about my lunch with Dougie?” she asked.
Matt’s jaw clenched, ignoring the delicious smells wafting up from the food on the table. “So it is true. Do you mind explaining why you, my girlfriend, were out with that womanizing poser?”
She was staring at him, mouth parted slightly, dark brown doe eyes wide.
“Anytime now will do, Madison,” Matt ordered.
“This is unbelievable,” she muttered, pulling the clip out of her hair and shaking her fingers through her curls. “You’re in the Netherlands. How could you know about my lunch with—”
“That’s beside the point. Why were you with McGregor? How on earth did you meet him?”
“He came to the studio,” she began.
“He what?” Matt asked. “He showed up at your work?”
“I know, right?” she said, twirling a curl around her finger. “Showed up out of the blue and invited himself to lunch at my expense. He’s something else, Matt.”
Matt did not like this development at all. The fact McGregor had shown up at her work was downright alarming, and a move similar to ones Matt had done many a times in the past when in pursuit of a woman he desired. Surprise her with a complete take-charge attitude, then lavish her with affection. Matt had to admit the Scotsman had balls. Shame he would be losing them soon. Right about the time Matt returned to the UK and found his sorry arse.
“I don’t want you socializing with McGregor, poppet. If he contacts you—”
She frowned at him from the screen. “It was only lunch. He was in London on business and wanted to meet up. He’s harmless and funny.”
Matt returned her frown. “I don’t want him around you. He’s a cad, and you’re too na?ve to see it.”
Her brown eyes narrowed. “Excuse me? Na?ve? It was lunch, Matt. A nice lunch that I spent yakking about you half the time, anyway.”
“You talked about me with that clown?” Matt asked, outraged.
She paused, uncertain about his obvious anger. “Nothing personal. Just how great things are between us. Are you jealous?” she asked in a pointed manner. “Because you don’t have to be. Dougie has a girlfriend. He told me about her and she sounds nice. Did you know his family has been in the whiskey business for centuries? And we talked about Scotland. I’ve never been, you know. Maybe we should—”
“Madison,” Matt cut her off tersely. “I don’t care about Dougal McGregor. I care about the fact you were seen in public with him. You need to understand how these things can be perceived. I will not have people gossiping about me, and you meeting another man for lunch is food for gossip. Stay away from McGregor,” he commanded.
Through his screen Matt could see the flurry of emotions skip across her face, finally settling on frustration. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Matt. I don’t know how things work in your world and I’m trying here. It was lunch.”
“Make sure it was the last lunch you have with him. You can’t do these things, Madison. Appearances are important in my world, and your behaviour is not in line with what it should be,” Matt said, in a voice as frustrated as the look on her beautiful face.
“It’s never enough, is it?” she asked, lower lip quivering. “I’m always going to do something outside what is expected of someone with a man like yourself, aren’t I? I’m trying to fit in, Matt, but I wasn’t born into this life. I don’t know the expected etiquette. It was lunch. You don’t think I find it difficult? Being the black girlfriend—”
“Don’t start with that,” he groused. “I’m not in the mood to discuss your feelings of racial inequality.”
“Fine,” she said coldly. “How about we discuss your behaviour, Matt?”
Matt peered at her through his laptop. “I beg your pardon? My behaviour?”
“Yes, Matt. Like the fact you practically forced me into therapy. What? You think because I haven’t said anything that I’ve gotten over what you did?”
Matt ran a hand through his slightly damp hair. “It was for your own good, Madi.”
“I know,” she replied in a tight voice. “I know I need help, but you didn’t ask if I was ready for it. No, you did what you usually do, which is whatever you want to do whenever you want to do it.”
“I’m paying quite a lot for you to get the best help—” Matt stopped when he saw the dangerous expression on her features.
“No, I’m paying for it, Matt. After you ‘ambushed’ me with Dr Brown, my next session I made arrangements to pay her directly.”
“What?” Matt sat up straighter. “But I’ve been sending transfers from one of my personal accounts—”
“That should have been returned. Do you even check these accounts of yours?”
“I will be doing so shortly,” he said in anger. Dr Brown was expensive, and Madi was seeing her twice a week outside normal working hours. It was a few weeks since he’d staged his version of an intervention. He hadn’t expected her to pay for it. This was his way of fixing her.
“You decided for me, Matt. I know you did it because you love me. I love you too.” She looked away from the screen for a moment before swivelling sad eyes back at him. “That’s why I agreed to go along with it, because you were right. I do need help addressing my grief, but you’re like Aunt Cleo in a way.”
Matt’s mouth fell open. What? She had compared him to that aunt of hers?
“You guilt me into things I’m not comfortable with, and I go along with it because I love you. Look, it’s late, and we both have busy days tomorrow. I think it’s wrong that I can’t have an innocent meal with someone who wants to be my friend, but I’ll respect your wishes. Something you rarely do with mine. Try and get some sleep, you look tired. I miss you and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Poppet,” he said, but she ended the video chat before he could say anymore. How the hell had she turned the tables on him? He’d called to warn her about letting McGregor weasel his way into her life and they’d ended up talking about his behaviour? Matt rubbed his chin slowly. He was tired, hungry and tired. Now he was irritated. With a low grumble he began to eat, mechanically chewing the sumptuous food that seemed tasteless somehow as he dwelled on their brief conversation.
Madison DuMont was driving him to the brink of insanity. Matt paused, fork held aloft, wondering if he had been wrong to use the future of their relationship to blackmail her into therapy. He shoved those thoughts away. He had done what was needed and the end justified the means. He would not feel guilty over it.
>>>
“Mr Bradley, would you like more tea?” The tall, leggy blonde in her form-hugging business suit leaned over him, flashing more than was necessary of her cleavage. She was his temporary secretary while on business. Rachel, his usually dependable Rachel, had been unable to come on this trip. Her father had taken a turn for the worse, and she had gone home to Manchester to be with her family.
Matt barely glanced at the woman, her soft Dutch accent laced with the subtle ‘come hither’ vibes. If she was offering something other than tea, she was talking to the wrong man.
Nathan raised his head from the paperwork in front of him and arched an eyebrow at Matt.
“Yes, please, Sanne,” he said. “And bring us the glide charts of the projected profit figures from the North American subsidiaries, also.”
“Of course, Mr Bradley,” she cooed, pouring him a fresh cup of tea. She turned that bright smile in Nathan’s direction. “Mr Walthamstow, would you like more tea also?”
Nathan nodded and was also subjected to a flash of creamy cleavage. Then she hurried out the room to get the required information.
They spent the rest of the day behind closed doors, having one meeting after another. Some relaxed, others humming with the tension expected from seating a bunch of powerful businessmen around one table who sought to further their interests.
Around eight pm, Nathan stretched his frame in the chair and asked, “Shall we have a spot of dinner when we get back to the hotel or have Sanne order us something, Matt? I’m starving.”
Matt ran a hand over his weary face. He could do with something to eat, and call Madison. It was Friday and he wanted to return to England immediately, but they were scheduled to remain in the Netherlands until the coming Monday. It had already been seven long days since he’d been away, and there were three days left before he could get home.
“We should call it a night, Nathan.”
Nathan gave him a look of mock horror. “What? Finish at a reasonable hour? That’s incredible.”
Matt shook his head and stretched himself. Being seated around tables all day was uncomfortable and the rain outside the windows didn’t help. “We’ll stay late again tomorrow. Let’s have the car brought around so we can get out of here.”
Matt pressed the intercom and ordered Sanne to have their vehicle waiting outside the building for them as they gathered up their briefcases and laptops. His mind wandered to his poppet. They had spoken every day since the tension on Tuesday, yet they hadn’t really spoken, not about their tiff. It reminded him of…God forbid, but it reminded him of his mother and Hannah. The way they would react after an argument, the ‘proper’ way of sweeping it under the carpet and going about life as normal. The rare times he witnessed his parents having words were followed by his mother acting as if nothing had transpired. In fact, come to think of it, most of the women from their world acted like that. Matt had experienced it first-hand with his elitist ex-lovers, and he definitely didn’t want his poppet acting like that. He enjoyed their arguments, the flash of fire in her eyes that let him know he was skating on thin ice and, if he didn’t change tact, he would regret it. Bollocks. She was changing and he didn’t want that. It was an unfortunate by-product of her being in a relationship with someone like him. He had noticed the subtle differences in her during the past few weeks. The way she would pause, thinking about her next words, before speaking. It annoyed Matt. He delighted in the way she used to blurt out whatever she was thinking. It was adorable. Of course, he had initially been pleased over her more poised demeanour when she was on his arm at restaurants or at functions. But, now, it grated on his nerves. She was trying to conform, to be perfect, like the other women she had been forced into interacting with. Her smiles strained when under the flash of camera lights from the media. Her beautiful eyes more and more guarded…being with her had changed him, and now being a part of his world was changing her. Matt felt that his poppet was going to end up with the short end of the stick.
In the car with Nathan he called her, their conversation brief. She was busy, distractedly recounting the dress rehearsal she and the other dancers had that day and advising him that the sale of tickets for her upcoming production had been better than she expected. Almost sold out. She had voiced her unease that it may have to do with their public relationship, as they’d never sold tickets that fast before and was annoyed at the thought that reporters might be sneakily buying tickets. Matt had calmed her worry, stating that it would help her company if they were doing as she suspected. It would be free publicity. When he ended the call, he glanced over at Nathan.
“Will Madi be able to make the engagement party next Saturday, Matt? It sounds like she’s swamped. Bella would be upset if she was unable to attend,” Nathan asked, tugging on his seatbelt.
“We’ll both be there, Nathan. You haven’t confirmed what we should get you and Bella as a gift.”
Nathan waved a hand in the air. “I could care less. Don’t see the point to be honest. It’s not like it’s the actual wedding where a gift is expected.”
Matt arched an amused eyebrow at him. “Don’t let Bella hear you saying that. How is she by the way?”
“Fine, busy with work and planning the big day.”
“You have confirmed the date?” Matt asked in a pleased voice.
Nathan nodded, grinning widely. “Three weeks after Franklin’s Swiss adventure. I figured, by the time we fly out to Switzerland, she’d be in need of a break from planning the wedding. She’s got the makings of a bridezilla. Before we left on this trip, I overheard a conversation she was having with the wedding planner. I didn’t know my Bella was capable of making violent threats.”
Matt chuckled. “I’ve always told you, still waters run deep. And Bella appears to be the calmest of us all.”
They shared a knowing look before chatting about inconsequential things. Only a few more days before they could both return home. Matt was counting down each and every hour.