CHAPTER 5
Matt and I were having a serious discussion.
To be quite clear, it was more one-sided than any ‘discussion’ should ever be.
I sat atop the island in his Kensington kitchen while he held my car and house keys captive and listed all the reasons why I should be living with him instead of my own home.
My focus drifted, it was the 5th of January and the New Year was shaping up to be a weird one.
Portia Bradley.
My future mother-in-law was an enigma.
Right before Matt, Nathan, Bella and I could leave their New Year’s party she had requested a moment of my time.
Matt point blank told her no, I felt bad.
Her eyes had looked red and puffy and I didn’t think it had anything to do with alcohol.
I had patted Matt’s arm and told him it was fine and allowed her to take me to their music room where she advised me how much she loved her son, so much so she had torn up the prenuptial on his behest.
She also said she was willing to put aside her mistrust of me for Matt’s sake, although she still expected me to sign another prenuptial before the actual wedding.
She informed me since I would be Matt’s future wife and she was his mother, we both had important roles in his life and it would be best if we were civil to each other.
Then she said she expected me to adhere to certain rules of behaviour whenever I was in the public eye and she would not tolerate any embarrassing media attention on my part.
After all that came the final remark of how I should continue wearing my hair straight as she felt my natural curls were too ethnic.
I had said only one thing after she had expended her breath and it was: Matt loves me just the way I am, curls and all.
I had been shocked no doubt, my previous willingness to look at the whole situation from her point of view concerning the prenuptial had flown out the window.
Portia Bradley wasn’t just an enigma, she was bat-shit crazy and no woman wanted a crazy mother-in-law.
Karma was laughing at me.
“Madison DuMont,” Matt called sharply.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Of course, my lovely knight.” I said with a wide smile as he paced in front the island.
I was now toying with the idea of jumping on him, wrestling him to the tiled kitchen floor and snatching my bunch of keys.
Although, realistically speaking, the sheer size of him made the success of that idea an impossibility.
Then I thought about flashing him my boobs as a form of distraction.
Once he was under the boobie spell I would snatch my keys and make my escape.
That idea was a non-starter too.
Matt rarely got distracted when he was in discussion mode.
My eyes tracked his frustrated movements.
He looked so damn delicious in his pin-stripe suit.
The only thing detracting from his business tycoon image was the state of his hair.
When he came downstairs it had been in its usual sleek swept back style, not one hair out of place.
Now it was wild, his hands had been going through it frequently.
I liked it though, added another dimension to him.
“You’re going to be late, Matt.” I reminded him sweetly.
He shot me a stern look then continued with his tirade.
“And George is quite fond of you,” Matt informed me.
“Why just yesterday he mentioned how much he enjoys your daily verbal sparring.”
“Did he now?” The sceptical tone of my voice was not lost on Matt.
He ran his hand through his hair again.
“Ah, well not in so many words, but that’s beside the point, poppet.”
“George is much nicer than your staff in Surrey,” I mused, remembering the awkwardness I felt while staying there.
“And you’re ignoring the cost benefits,” Matt came to a stop in front of me.
He was tugging on his tie now.
“With us living together here, you save on utility bills etc. Of course you’ll have to cover the Council tax for an unoccupied property, or you could rent out-”
“It’s 6:15.” I interrupted.
“I thought you wanted to arrive at your office before 7am. Now may I please have my keys back?”
Matt’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
“You know I have an Oyster card. I can simply get the tube or call a taxi and pay cash-” I stopped when I saw the sudden gleam in his eyes.
Then I hastened to add.
“Do not go through my bag, Matt. That’s an invasion of privacy and I won’t stand for it.”
“Poppet,” he sighed, glancing at his watch with a grimace.
“I just want to spend some time in my home, watching my tv-”
“There are over five television sets here. You can watch tv here.” he countered.
“It’s just a few nights, Matt.” I continued.
“A few nights? You said one night, now you want a few nights?” His tie was all askew now.
I crooked a finger at him, beckoning him over.
Matt’s fearsome scowl didn’t worry me.
I wasn’t scared of this particular one.
He closed the small distance between us and I started fixing his tie.
Then I smoothed my hands through his silky hair, brushing it back until it bore some resemblance to its previous state.
Matt’s grey eyes held an edge of iciness to them, a steely glint which spelt trouble…
for me.
The scowl hadn’t bothered me, but this did.
“Why are you fighting me on this, Madi?” he asked.
I had no answer for him.
At least not one I wanted to voice out loud.
I fiddled with the knot of his tie, unable to meet his gaze.
He checked his watch again then placed my keys next to me on the island before moving back.
Damn it.
I hated that closed off expression on his face.
It was time to come clean.
“Matt, I’m scared.” Okay, saying it out loud made me sound foolish.
“Of what?” He did nothing to hide the exasperation he felt.
“Scared to move in with me? You already spend so much time here and we’re engaged, for Christ’s sakes. What do you expect to happen when we’re married? You’re being ridiculous.”
I closed my hand over my keys.
“Gee thanks, Matt. So understanding of you to not give me a chance to explain before calling me ridiculous.”
Matt exhaled long and hard before resting his hands over my denim-clad thighs.
He impatiently checked his watch again then looked at me.
“Ok, tell me why you’re scared.”
I shrugged, not wanting to tell him now.
Was that childish?
I didn’t think so.
Hell, he called me ridiculous.
“Talk to me, poppet.” he cajoled.
Oh, now he was being all sweet.
“I’m listening. Tell me why you’re scared of living here with me.” Matt gently kneaded my thighs while waiting for me to talk.
“I don’t want to get consumed by the Matt vortex.” I blurted out, hoping he didn’t call me ridiculous again.
If he did, I’d throw a few names back at him.
“I beg your pardon?” Matt sounded and looked confused.
“It’s so intense with you, it’s like being in a whirlwind - all the freaking time. I like my house, I like my own space, I like living close to my work, I like being able to come and go as I please-”
“You like your independence.” he summarized flatly.
“And you believe moving in with me will affect that.”
“Of course it will.” I stated the obvious.
Matt stepped away from me, he buttoned his suit jacket then rubbed his chin slowly.
I moistened my lower lip with the tip of my tongue.
“Matt, I just-”
“I have to go,” he interrupted coolly.
“Look, I know I can be a bit much sometimes, I know I’m your first, well, first everything; but you need to figure out a way to deal with whatever is going on in that head of yours. Fast. I despise begging, which is what you’re reducing me to. I love you, we’re going to be married and I want you living here as soon as physically possible. I worry about you being there on your own at nights, did that ever cross your mind? You are always on my mind. Your well-being, safety…these are things that matter to me.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up my previous attempt of fixing it.
“You won’t move in and you won’t set a date. It’s beginning to feel as if I’m the only one in this relationship.”
I watched in silence as he turned on his heels and stalked out the kitchen.
How?
How did he manage to turn it all around on me?
How could he make me feel guilty for feeling the way I did?
I felt the way I felt.
End of.
So why was I now feeling like a horrible, selfish person?
Was it wrong to be nervous about this massive change he wanted me to make?
It was too late to escape the vortex and I had no tools at my disposal to build a damn ship.
He never allowed me any time .
Everything was always at his pace.
And it was tiring trying to keep up.
I clutched my bunch of keys and stared gloomily at the fridge-freezer.
I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t notice Matt re-enter the kitchen until he stood almost in front of me.
We observed each other for a few seconds then he closed the distance and slipped a hand behind my neck.
My eyes closed as he kissed me deeply, so deeply it felt as if he wanted to crawl into me, mouth first.
“Today’s Wednesday. Go home, stay until the weekend if you want. Just think about what I said and call me every night before you turn in.” he said gruffly.
I opened my eyes expecting to see a frustrated expression on his face but it wasn’t there.
Instead he looked resigned and tired.
My lips parted to say something, anything; he kissed me before I could utter a word, then he left.
The sound of the front door slamming loudly a few minutes later made me feel even worse.
Great.
The New Year wasn’t off to a weird start, it was already fucked and my best friend was thousands of miles away.
I fingered the crystal ballet shoes key ring and sighed really loudly.
“Chairs are used for sitting on, Ms DuMont, not counter tops.” George and his usual comments of reproach.
And those damned gloves!
It was bad enough he wore his butler get-up but those gloves were driving me crazy.
“Yeah, well, sue me.” I bit out, harsher than I intended.
Another dollop of guilt filled me when I saw his mouth curl down around the edges.
“I’m sorry, George. I rolled out on the wrong side of bed this morning. Shall I make us some breakfast? French toast do you?”
George walked over to the fridge-freezer and took out the eggs and milk.
“I’ll prepare some for you, Ms DuMont.”
It didn’t matter that I had made the offer to cook, George was being George and it would take too much effort to complain.
My relationship with Matt’s butler was skewered according to Grumps.
Huh, I wasn’t going to give up our late night pig-outs and chats for anything.
“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Mr Bradley,” George said as he went about making breakfast.
He put a skillet on the hob and sprayed some oil on the cold metal.
I gasped extra loud on purpose.
“Eavesdropping, George?”
“I was not.” His affront was palpable, but the tips of his ears were red.
“I happened to be passing by the kitchen while you were having your discussion.”
“Eavesdropping.” I repeated with a smirk.
“I was going about my daily duties, Ms DuMont. I did not eavesdrop.” he denied staunchly.
I rolled my eyes and pulled my legs up onto the counter, sitting Indian style as I mocked, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
We both fell silent for a moment then George cleared his throat and started making the batter for the bread.
“He’s afraid.” George twisted his grey head in my direction.
“Pfft,” I scoffed in disbelief.
“Matt’s not afraid of anything. You of all people should know that, you practically raised him.”
“And that is exactly why you should accept what I’m telling you. He is afraid.”
“Of what?” I asked, curious over George’s assessment of the conversation he’d eavesdropped on.
“Of you.” George said, getting a spatula off one of the hooks while still stirring the batter.
Damn, the old man could multi-task with the best of them.
“Ok ay ,” I drawled, tossing my keys from one hand to the next.
“I think we need to get you to the G.P, George. You’re obviously losing your mind.”
George grunted.
It was the first time I’d ever heard such a noise from Matt’s starchy butler.
“He’s never been in this situation before, Ms DuMont.”
“What situation?” I queried with narrowed eyes trained on his back.
I was fond of George, but if he brought up some stupid race shit I would have to smack him down.
Damn.
Was I a violent person?
Hmm, I would mention this new worry at my next session with Dr Brown.
“Being in love, Ms DuMont.” George turned, frowning fiercely at me.
“He doesn’t know how to deal with the complexities of being in love so he resorts to what he does know, and that is controlling everything. Mr Bradley doesn’t realize love isn’t about control.”
I blinked, digesting George’s words.
He continued to explain.
“He’s never had a woman refuse him anything, he’s never had to second guess himself when it comes to relationships.”
“Come on, George. You’re telling me that not one of his exes gave him hell? That’s preposterous.”
“It’s the truth. His previous bed partners knew if they displeased him, he would simply discard them for someone new.” George said.
Now I felt a tad squidgy at this point.
George was very proper and his reference to Matt’s sexual partners freaked me out, but he was on a quest to impart knowledge to me and knowledge was power.
“Okay, so my fiancé was a playboy.”
George peered at the batter, he seemed satisfied with the consistency and turned on the stove.
“For lack of a better word, yes, he was. But then he met you and everything changed for him. Now he actually cares about another person’s needs more than his own, that scares him. And forgive my saying it, but you’re not the easiest person to get along with, Ms DuMont.”
I laughed.
No, it was a cackle, and George sent me a disapproving glance over one shoulder.
“He’s scared of losing you through committing some error unbeknownst to him.”
“So he bosses me around all the time? Makes demands on me? Then proceeds to guilt me into doing what he wants? That’s ridiculous and downright confusing.”
George shrugged.
“It’s all he knows, control or be controlled. Rule or serve. His father, his grandfather taught him that. It’s the same with Adam and Hannah.”
“What about the twins? They’re sweet.” I said glibly.
“Yes, well, you haven’t seen them with their peers. They are just the same as Mr Bradley.”
I stopped tossing my keys while George got the bread out.
“I still don’t get it though. If you love someone you don’t go all dictator-like on them, or try to manipulate them into doing what you want, I’m learning from my own life experiences that it’s not healthy. Dr Brown has helped me to see that.”
George didn’t say anything, not for a little while.
I watched him check the heat in the skillet then he used some thongs to dip the bread in the batter until it was soaked.
Only when he had two slices on the skillet did he speak.
“I remember the last time I ever saw him cry. He was five years old,” George used the spatula to check the underside of the bread before flipping it.
I waited impatiently for him to continue.
“Every year his family would go to the Oxford/Cambridge boat race. All Bradleys attend Cambridge so, of course, it was a big thing for his father and grandfather. Matthew loves boats, he’s always enjoyed being on the water, even as a very small child.”
I was shocked.
I had never heard George refer to Matt by his first name before.
It was always Mr Bradley, or Sir on the rare occasion.
“He had this sailor cap, it was one of his most prized possessions and he lost it that day. As expected he was inconsolable. When they returned to the estate I tried my best to cheer him up but nothing worked. Then Mr Bradley, senior that is, pulled him aside and said to cease his tears. He explained to him that one should never get too attached to anything because you eventually lose it. One way or the other. That to love something with all your heart is a foolish thing to do. A person should always remain detached so when something is lost or comes to an end, then they are able to move on with little to no effect. This is a lesson he has applied throughout his life, especially when it comes to the opposite sex.”
“What? What sort of head fuck is that?” I screeched.
Oh.
The next time I saw Grumps I was going to…
to do something bad.
“Ms DuMont. Please. Such language is distasteful.” George shot me a hard look then got a plate out and placed my French toast on it.
“So bearing this in mind, it is understandable that Mr Bradley is scared. You are very important to him and he fears the possibility of losing you because he is not detached where it concerns you. He is doing all that he can to keep you in his life and the only way he knows how is to maintain an ironclad control over the situation. The fast progression of your relationship is testament to that.”
I took the plate George held out and chewed my inner cheeks as he got me a knife and fork.
“But he’s not going to lose me,” I said in frustration.
“And I feel smothered, pressured. He knows he’s not going to lose me.”
“Perhaps, but he’s not willing to take the risk.” George turned the stove off and put the batter into the fridge.
Guess he wasn’t eating.
Then he turned to me and said, “I’d prefer if this conversation remains between us,”
I arched an eyebrow.
“Mr Bradley would be displeased if-”
“I won’t tattle, George.” I started digging into my French toast.
George visibly relaxed.
“He is trying though, so you should be more understanding.”
“Ha. Typical. You’re on his side,” I muttered.
“I am also fond of you, Ms DuMont.” he said then snorted at either himself or me and high-tailed it out the kitchen, but not before saying.
“And let this be the last time you sit upon the centre island.”
“Leave me alone, old man.” I yelled at the now empty doorway.
Wow.
Knowledge was power, but I was still going to my own home after breakfast.
I missed walking into my front door, plus it had been really cold the past few days.
What if my pipes had frozen and burst?
Crap!
It was good to be home and I was looking forward to the upcoming date with my own bed.
I had spent all day doing nothing and it was bliss.
The only dark cloud on an otherwise sunny horizon was my call to Matt.
The conversation was fine, but I could feel the simmering tension of unspoken words.
My ‘I love you’s at the end of the call were extra vibrant.
Ok.
I’m lying, there were numerous dark clouds and all because I missed the hell out of my knight.
How messed up was that?
I wanted space yet I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Right now I was putting in some serious couch time with Pinot Grigio and a late night zombie movie on the box.
My darkened living room had nothing on Matt’s top of the line entertainment room, but my couch was more comfortable, so there.
And I could stand on it, as I was doing now, without fear of reprisal.
I doubted Matt would let me jump up and down on his furniture like this.
Plus I had on granny panties under my oversized t-shirt, I could never wear this old-faithful at Matt’s.
“Run, girl,” I shouted at the screen.
“Run like you’re an illegal and the INS are after you.” She was running, but those darned zombies were gaining.
There were gratuitous amounts of horror and violence in the storyline.
My kind of show.
“Oh shit. Run.” I gulped my wine, a little tipsy and agitated as I bounced slightly on the couch.
“Don’t stop, you fool! Just run.”
The sound of the front door opening and closing had me turning in petrified slow motion.
My mouth was stretched wide open in a soundless scream.
I didn’t think it was possible, to scream yet not make a sound.
Fear had choked me.
Logically I knew it had to be Matt.
A key had to be used to open the door.
I knew this, yet those seconds it took for me to make that turn…
God!
If there was ever a zombie apocalypse I wouldn’t survive.
No instinctive full zombie attack mode for me, more like stand there like a fool and get eaten.
I hadn’t even tried to run.
“Poppet?” Matt put his briefcase down and stared at me.
“Are you alright? Why are you standing on the couch?”
It took a few more seconds for me to unhinge my jaw from the silent scream.
“Jesus Christ , Matt.” I hissed.
“You scared me.”
He flicked on the lights and glanced at the tv.
The girl was being eaten.
“I told you to stop watching these scary movies.”
I gave him an incredulous look as I got down from the sofa and put my glass on the coffee table.
“What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer, just took off his jacket, toed off his shoes and tugged his tie loose.
He looked tired, exhausted actually.
“Matt?” I called quietly as I made my way over to him.
“I know you wanted to spend time alone,” He glanced everywhere but at me.
I touched the sleeve of his shirt and he finally looked at me.
I didn’t say anything, just took his hand and led him over to the couch where we sat down.
I leaned against the sofa arm and stretched my legs out, one behind him and the other over his lap.
Then I beckoned him closer.
Matt laid his head across my chest while I stroked his hair and his back.
“It’s difficult getting to sleep without you at my side, poppet.” he murmured into my chest.
“I was heading home from the office and…I ended up driving here.”
His shoulders were so tense.
We didn’t talk any more.
I rubbed his back until he relaxed and let out an inaudible sigh.
Soon after his breathing deepened and I knew he was falling asleep.
Maybe the chat I had with George earlier this morning had opened my eyes because the vulnerability being displayed by Matt was something I’d never noticed before.
My knight always projected the image of dominance and self-assurance, maybe I had been blinded by this.
He always strived to give me what I needed and although sometimes I resented his take charge attitude, I appreciated it.
I appreciated him.
He was vulnerable and he needed me.
Matt needed me; not for sexual gratification, or to show off on his arm.
He just needed me and yes, he could be manipulative, but weren’t we all in one way or the other?
“I’ll move in as soon as you want, Matt.” I whispered.
He raised his head and his chin rested between my breasts.
“And whenever you want to get hitched, we can. You’re not alone in this relationship. I’m right here with you.”
Matt’s beautiful grey eyes shone with relief and he laid his head down again without saying a word.
I held him until he fell asleep.
I was scared my life would no longer be my own.
He was scared his life would become empty once more.
There had to be some middle ground.
We loved each other too damned much for it not to work.
He had asked and I had said yes.
That was all I needed to focus on.
I had said yes and meant it.