Chapter 3 #3
He switched over to my other boob and administered the same treatment before saying huskily, “Doing that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
“W-warm and fuzzy?” I tugged on his hair and he winked at me.
“Hot and bothered, poppet.” he amended, then started pressing kisses between my breasts before resting his chin there.
“My very own valley of comfort.” He proceeded to kiss his way down to my stomach.
“The plains of anticipation,” he murmured as he scooted further down the bed.
He palmed my stomach, slowly brushing his hand side to side.
“I love your skin, the softness of it, the way it looks against mine, the scent…I love the way you smell,” Matt glanced up at me, a possessive look in his eyes as he swirled his tongue lower down my stomach.
“The way you taste.”
There was something in my throat stopping me from making some witty retort.
Something was choking me and that something was pure lust.
Matt kept licking down my body, wiggling my legs open with purpose.
“The source of my ultimate pleasure,” he whispered hoarsely as he dipped his head.
The sensation of his tongue teasing my soft flesh had me biting my lip.
“I could spend all day tasting you,” he murmured as he buried his tongue inside me.
I gasped and felt him smile.
“Ah, what else?” I asked quickly.
Matt ignored me, choosing instead to continue tasting me.
“What about - God!”
I had one hand digging into his shoulder while the other clasped his head closer.
It felt so good.
His mouth did things to me, made me ache.
Matt’s tongue was very thorough and before I knew it my legs were shaking uncontrollably, my hips bucking wildly, my body melting on his tongue.
This time it wasn’t a blinding light but a spectrum of colours.
Maybe because my eyelids were squeezed shut so tightly.
And still he didn’t stop, in fact, his tongue became even more insistent as he lapped at my quivering flesh.
I prised my eyes opened when Matt rested his head against my limp thigh.
“Absolutely delicious.” he informed me and swept his tongue across his glistening mouth then sucked his bottom lip in as if savouring the taste.
“Nnngrh.” It was supposed to be ‘damn’, obviously the link from the command centre in my brain to my vocal chords was temporarily disconnected.
Matt caressed my legs.
“And these sexy - (kiss) - legs. Hmm, nothing better than having them wrapped around my waist as I shag you.”
“Mnngrh.” That was my attempt at the words ‘no more’.
Matt moved from between my legs and crawled up to lie besides me.
He gently turned me on my side and slipped one of his legs between mine as he spooned me.
He gripped my butt and kneaded the fleshiness while pressing his erection against me.
“And your arse. Jesus, poppet. What can I say except it is the best arse I’ve ever had the luxury of touching.”
“Mhwanks.” My post-orgasm version of ‘thanks’.
Matt found the right angle and eased his hard cock into my quivering flesh, slowly sliding in and out as he grabbed my hand.
The completely obscene squelching sound only turned us on more.
“But your hands,” He brought it to his lips, kissing my knuckles, sucking my fingers, licking my wrist.
“I bloody adore your dainty hands.” He laced our fingers together, still maintaining his slow and steady movements.
“It’s hard to expl- mmm, do that again.”
I rolled my hips slowly.
“Where was I now?” Matt licked the magnetic spot between my neck and shoulder.
“Yes, your hands. I love the way they feel in mine, the way you touch me. Your hand gestures, you talk with your hands, poppet. Are you aware of that?”
“Wh- what about the non-physical side?” I stammered out, wanting him to go faster.
I started pushing back forcefully against him, taking control of our coupling.
Matt nipped my neck sharply, laughing when I jerked in surprise.
“Ah, well, let’s see, hmm, you can spell. And by that I mean the proper denotation of UK English.”
“What?” I exclaimed.
“That’s it? I can spell?”
“It’s a great skill to have, poppet. You wouldn’t believe how many people are incapable of spelling words correctly.”
“Shut up, Matt. Just shut up and sex me.”
“Your wish is my command.” he drawled in amusement.
Then he shut up and we sexed each other to sleep.
I was alone in bed.
Alone, naked and sticky.
Oh and I stunk of sex.
I inhaled deeply, face pressed into Matt’s pillow.
Maybe he had used science to addict me to his scent.
A few strategically placed chemically enhanced aromas around my house in the early days of our relationship and hey presto, I was hooked.
Someone knocked on the door and it swung open as I jerked upright.
“George!” I yelled, clutching the sheets to my chest.
“What on earth is wrong with you?”
He balanced the tray with one hand and walked over to the breakfast table and chairs.
“It’s just past 10:30, Ms DuMont. You should be up and about.”
A memory of the first morning I awoke in Matt’s bed flitted through my mind.
There was still a hint of reproach in George’s tone, some things never changed.
“You need to work on your bedside manners.” I groused as he placed the tray on the table.
“Mr Bradley has never had reason to complain about my behaviour.” he retorted dryly.
“Now please eat your breakfast.” He turned on his heels to leave but stopped to pick up, oh God, George had my panties and bra in one hand and Matt’s slacks in the other.
I saw the slight shake of head and blurted out tartly, “We’re engaged.”
George said nothing as he picked up the rest of our discarded clothing and put them in the clothes hamper.
“And I can pick up after myself.”
“Your eggs will be going cold, Ms DuMont. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” he replied before heading for the door.
“I’ll tell Matt you were mean to me,” I threatened and he paused, gloved hand on the door knob.
I still hadn’t been able to convince him to give them up.
George turned around stiffly but I saw the gleam in his eyes.
“And I’ll notify Mr Bradley about the unfortunate incident with the painting in the salon-”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, George,” I backtracked.
“No need to act all hasty. I was kidding.”
“Yes, Ms DuMont. I suspected you were. Eat.” he ordered then left the bedroom.
“Crotchety old man,” I shouted at his retreating back but I didn’t really mean it anymore.
Breakfast first then a shower.
I gathered the spill of sheets around me and slid off the bed.
“Ow.” I stretched some kinks out and made my way over to the breakfast table.
Matt’s gift was not where I had left it last night and I wondered if he liked it.
Removing the metal cover revealed an array of sliced fruits, scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes and my glass of orange juice; but my scrambled eggs looked wet.
Slimy wet.
What the hell?
George never got my eggs wrong.
And because the slimy eggs were touching my bacon I couldn’t eat it.
The eggs were over half the pancakes too, so they were definitely not getting munched on.
What the hell?
I slurped the juice down, picked at the fruits then wrote off breakfast.
Wet eggs, almost as gross as sunny side up or poached eggs.
Matt loved that.
Urgh.
Sometimes I wondered about him and his eating habits.
Underneath the spray of hot water I hummed to myself.
Matt was home and although dance classes would continue as normal, my corp and I had the next four weeks off.
I figured I could probably guilt him into taking a few days off with me, anything more would be pushing it.
This was one of my worries.
We both worked very hard.
Wouldn’t that put a strain on a marriage?
Hell, it had always been an issue between us, spending sufficient time together.
He worked long hours at his office and travelled quite a lot.
How would we address that?
I tilted my head upwards, letting the water wash over my face, willing it to wash these troublesome thoughts away.
The shower cap I wore was a new addition to my stuff in the large bathroom, and my birth control pills had been topped up here too.
I needed to ask Matt if George was the one getting these things.
It would be embarrassing if he was.
With a squeak I turned the shower off and stepped out.
Fifteen minutes later I was grumbling under my breath in Matt’s huge walk-in closet while getting dressed.
Behind the sleek white sliding doors on one side of the room I had been shocked to see that the two shelves I kept my clothes on had morphed into half the space.
Designer dresses, trousers, jeans, tops, shoes, bags, freaking French silk underwear…
things with tags on, things I hadn’t bought.
What was wrong with him?
Ok, I was drooling over the shoes, but still.
Why did he make these decisions without my input?
I wouldn’t mind if he at least ran it by me first.
A little: ‘hey, poppet, I’m thinking about spending a ridiculous amount of money on clothing for you’, would be greatly appreciated.
We could then sit down and I would explain how uncomfortable it made me feel.
I grumbled some more and tugged my old cut off denims on.
“I am not going to be a trophy wife.” I scowled at my reflection before straightening my red knit-sweater.
“I refuse to be a kept woman.” I huffed, pulling on a pair of socks.
“And if he thinks for one minute he can use this - this clothes ambush to make me move in…HA!” I slid the door shut, blocking my new stuff from sight.
“Oh, he’s got another think coming.”
Well, there was only one thing for it.
I needed to confront Matt, make him return the clothes; ah, the shoes could stay.
It would be criminal to return the shoes, I was crazy but not that crazy.
Oh and the cute Prada dress could stay too, but then I would need to keep the jacket at the end.
It matched perfectly with-
Damn him and his money!
I walked out the closet and grabbed the tray on my way out the master bedroom.
As Grumps was probably somewhere about the house, I made the journey to the kitchen like a fugitive ducking the FBI.
It might be awkward between us this morning.
I had called him a son of a bitch and doubted he would ever forget it.
“George,” I sauntered into the kitchen.
“These eggs sucked - uh, hello?”
There was a woman in Matt’s kitchen.
A leggy brunette.
I hoped she wasn’t an intruder because she held a very large knife.
Wait.
Why was my favourite sauté pan on the stove?
Why were her boobs so damn big?
Were those my seasonings neatly lined across the counter?
Couldn’t she find a less fitted top?
Where did she get that cool chopping board from?
I wanted one.
Why were her boobs so damn big ?
I stopped my silly boob envy and blinked cautiously.
Matt didn’t let people into his home.
“Hello, I’m Valerie, the chef.” she introduced herself.
“Was there a problem with the eggs?”
Chef?
“Uh, no, no.” I denied anything was wrong with the wet mess.
“I wasn’t that hungry.” With a bright smile on my face I walked over to put the tray on the island.
“Could you put that somewhere else please?” she tossed over her shoulders.
“I’m about to start prepping for lunch.”
Well excuse me.
This was my kitchen.
Technically it was Matt’s, but if I moved in like he wanted me to, then the rights of culinary space would transfer to me.
“Sure, Valerie,” I said brightly.
She didn’t see my eye roll.
“It’s Valerie.” she corrected.
I just said that.
Why did she emphasize the second vowel like that?
I was sensing some animosity from Val- e -rie.
And the only reason I could think of was that Matt had sexed her.
He had sexed his leggy chef.
I put the tray on one of the glistening surfaces and spun on my heels.
“Nice meeting you, Valerie,” I said cheerily then turned back around by the doorway to verify my suspicions.
“Do you know where my fiancé is? This place is so big,” My voice trailed off as I spotted the tightening of the corner of her mouth.
Yep.
He had most likely sexed her.
“Unfortunately, I don’t.” she replied and started sharpening the large knife.
Okay, it was time for me to leave.
I was jealous.
And not only because I suspected she’d been sexed by Matt.
That sauté pan was my favourite one to use whenever I was here.
“George,” I caught sight of his black suit turning a corner.
“Yes, Ms DuMont?” he stopped and waited for me to hurry down the hallway.
“Some woman is in the kitchen,”
George gave me a look.
“Yes, I know.”
“She said she’s the chef,” I mocked dryly.
George nodded.
“Yes, she is. She’s worked for Mr Bradley for the past three years now.”
Three years?
Wow.
“What? How come I never met her before? And her eggs were vile. They were wet and yucky. You know I love your eggs. You make the best scrambled eggs.”
George tried not to smile.
I saw him fighting it but he lost in the end.
“How can I be of assistance, Ms DuMont?”
I linked arms with him, a blatant lack of propriety, but I considered George my friend.
“Where’s Matt?”
“In the gym with his brother.” George replied.
I jerked to a stop and peered at him from uncertain eyes.
“And where exactly is this gym?”
“How many times have I told you,” George started leading me forward.
“It’s downstairs, Ms DuMont.”
“Downstairs. As in creepy basement room?” I clarified.
There were still some rooms I had yet to enter in Matt’s home.
The master bedroom, my studio, the kitchen and the entertainment room were where I spent most of my time.
“You’ve never ventured in that area, Ms DuMont. How can you assume it’s creepy?” he chastised.
“Because I’ve seen a lot of movies and basements are always bad news.” I explained with smugness.
“Would you like me to prepare some fresh eggs, Ms DuMont?” George ignored my previous comment.
“Thanks, George. I’m not too sure about this chef. She had my sauté pan out. You know the one I love to use? Well, she had it.”
George compressed his mouth into a thin line and cleared his throat.
Was he laughing at me?
“Valerie is highly recommended,” he defended her as we walked arm in arm.
“Classically trained in French and Italian cuisine. Her years of service in this household is greatly appreciated by Mr Bradley.”
“Huh.” I grunted impolitely.
Bet she couldn’t make a lasagne as good as mine.
Why was she here anyway?
I always cooked whenever I stayed over.
“Here we are,” George pointed to an oak door.
“I’ll have your eggs done in fifteen minutes, Ms DuMont.”
I smiled and moved away from him.
“Thanks, George.”
It was with curiosity I opened the door and headed down the wider than normal stairs.
It was blindingly bright and my eyes widened in disbelief when the sheer size of Matt’s gym registered.
The whole basement had been converted it seemed.
There was the expected gym equipment in one corner, a small bar set off from that, an actual boxing ring; but my gaze was riveted on the sight of Matt and Adam.
They were in the middle of the room fencing.
Dressed in the necessary protective gear and fiercely attacking each other.
I wasn’t sure who was who as they both wore masks and were more or less the same height.
The tinny electronic beep startled me when one of them scored a point.
It was then I noticed the cords running from the back of each man to what I assumed was the scoring box.
I watched, fascinated, as they went back to their starting marks.
“ En garde .” Ah, that was Adam, and it was he who had just scored the point.
“ Allez .” Matt replied and they went at each other again.
I sat down on the stairs, not wanting to interrupt in case a distraction caused someone to get injured.
Those swords looked dangerous and quite bendy.
I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until my chest tightened from lack of oxygen.
A quick inhale and my lungs stopped complaining.
Then I clapped in delight as Matt executed a beat attack and scored a point.
Both men stopped and looked over at me.
Shit.
I was supposed to be quiet.
Very self-conscious, I stood up and descended the remaining stairs as the men took off their masks.
Matt walked over immediately, mask under one arm and sword at his side.
Hmm, white suited him.
“Morning, poppet,” he greeted then bent down to peck my lips.
“What time did you get up?” I asked, slightly disappointed by the fleeting kiss.
“Earlier than expected. Have you eaten as yet?” Matt queried.
His face was flushed and his breathing accelerated.
“Morning, Madi.” Adam said on his approach.
He dropped his mask, carefully placed the sword next to his feet and started stripping off his protective clothing.
“Hey Adam.” I replied with a smile.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you boys.”
“Boys?” Adam was grinning at me.
“Why thank you. I can’t speak for Matty but I do have a boyish demeanour. Blimey it’s hot.” Adam winked at me while Matt groused about his nickname.
He tugged his vest over his head, leaving his upper body bare, and used the vest to wipe his face.
The fact I was staring at Adam’s impressive physique escaped my notice.
It didn’t escape Matt’s attention, he immediately cleared his throat loudly.
I jerked at the sound, eyes jumping to Matt.
Oh crap.
My face burned as Adam started to chuckle.
“Well, well, well,” he teased.
“Were you just checking me out?”
“What? No. Of course not.” I exclaimed, nervously twirling the side braid hanging down my chest.
“Don’t be silly, Adam.”
The twin eyebrows of doom were at Armageddon level as Matt interjected tersely, “You were.”
“No, I wasn’t.” I denied emphatically, unable to hold Matt’s gaze.
Adam chuckled again.
“Don’t worry, Madi. You couldn’t help yourself. I am irresistible, you know.” His grey-blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he turned to Matt.
“I am the better looking brother after all.”
Oh crappity crap.
I hadn’t been ogling him.
It was just…
“I was just comparing your body to that of a dancer’s,” I said with a flash of inspiration that would perhaps save me from the thunderous look on Matt’s face.
“The differences are, uh, well, a dancer is-”
“Madison,” Matt’s tone was the ‘shut up while you can’ one.
Adam chuckled again and thumped Matt on the back.
“Don’t feel too sore about it, Matt. She’s got an eye for true beauty.”
“Sod off.” Matt grumbled, still giving me the evil eye.
An uncomfortable tension sprang up between Matt and myself as Adam continued to chuckle.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
“Ah, I’ve never been down here before, Matt. This is, I mean, wow.” I said with a limp smile, trying to disperse the tension.
“Mmph.” Matt wasn’t using actual words.
Grunts meant trouble.
Uh oh.
“I’m going to head upstairs,” Adam said cheerfully while playing with the band of his white breeches.
“See what the old man is getting up to.”
“You do that.” Matt replied, his grey eyes were trained on me and holding the promise of some stern words.
Adam started humming under his breath as he headed up the stairs.
Why was Matt stressing?
He was my one and only.
My knight.
My sex god.
Then I remembered how I felt in the kitchen with Valerie, the chef.
“Did you sex your chef, Matt?” The words popped out before I could stop them.
The shocked expression he wore was priceless as he said, “I beg your pardon? Did I what?”
I shrugged and fiddled with my braid.
“I know your staff sign non-disclosure contracts and whatnot, and you do have previous form for doing these things. It was weird when she introduced herself and why is she here anyway? I always cook when I’m here. Don’t you like my food anymore? I won’t get mad if you had a thing with her, but I just want it on record that I am very uncomfortable knowing you’ve been inside her. How many women have you been with? I mean, what sort of numbers are we talking here? High double digits? Triple digits? And I have to ask: are you a breast man? It just seems like you are and I’m not as well-endowed as the women you’ve been with. And there is no way I’ll ever get implants so you should bear that in mind if we’re going to be married.”
Matt rubbed his temple.
“Poppet, just don’t speak for a moment.”
I stopped the verbal diarrhoea coming out my mouth and chewed my inner cheeks.
Matt started stripping off his fencing clothing, all the while peering at me.
“Uh, I guess I’ll head back upst-”
“Do not move a muscle.” he commanded, eyes flashing.
I huffed and folded my arms.
“Why do you think you can order me around, Matt?”
His chest was bare now and I couldn’t help my appreciative gaze.
Adam was ripped, but Matt truly was the perfect male specimen.
The well-defined lines of his abdominal muscles, the broadness of his chest that I loved running my hands over…
“Hmph.” he snorted over my blatant perusal.
“Should I feel flattered right now?”
“Oh, stop it.” I said, grinning at his childishness.
“Come here and kiss me properly.”
He waited a few moments before tugging me into his arms and kissing the bejeezus out of me.
“You’re crazy, you know that, right?” he remarked.
“Crazy about you.” I winked at him and he grinned.
“Bloody hell. I can never stay mad at you.” Matt tapped the tip of my nose before cupping my cheek.
“I didn’t sleep with my chef and she’s probably acting strange due to the fact you’ve scratched the inside of that wok to smithereens. George said she was muttering something about it.”
Oh, ok.
Jumping to conclusions was never a good idea.
“And I’m not a breast man, I’m your man and I love you just the way you are.”
I was smiling like a fool, practically beaming like the sun.
“And I want us to set a date for our wedding.”
My smile faltered.
Matt saw it and I couldn’t miss the flash of hurt in the depths of his eyes.
Shit.
“We’ve only been engage for about a month, Matt,” I started in a soothing voice.
Why was he rushing this?
Didn’t he realize I had to fix things with my family first?
I couldn’t get married without them.
Matt observed me for a tense moment.
“What’s your point, poppet? You know I don’t want a long engagement. We talked about-”
“No, Matt, we haven’t talked about it. You said you wanted to get married as soon as possible and I said we needed to discuss it. Do you even listen to me?”
Matt rolled his eyes and snorted in exasperation.
“Of course I do. I simply see no point in dragging out our engagement. I want you as my wife.”
“I want to be your wife, but it just feels like we’re rushing this.”
Matt exhaled slowly as if trying to rein in his temper.
“When would you like us to get married, Madison?”
“I don’t know, Matthew.”
“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” he said.
“If you promise to give me a date within the next six months, I’ll promise not to pressure you. Deal?”
I didn’t like the sound of that deal.
It felt like I was getting the short end of the stick either way.
Six months?
That would fly by.
“Can I think about it?”
“No. Do we have a deal?” he pressed.
“Did you like your Christmas present?” I knew it was a stupid change of topic but I suddenly felt trapped.
Matt’s expression softened.
“I loved it, poppet, and don’t change the subject. Now do we have a deal?”
I nodded slowly.
“Good. Come, let’s go up. I still have to give you your presents.”
He took my hand and led me up the stairs while I had a mental freak out.
What sort of clichéd fairy tale was I living in?
Seriously.
These things only happened in books and movies.
Ex-cash millionaire, now financially over-committed woman, meets handsome gazillionaire, they fall in love, get married and live happily ever after?
Was karma trying to pull a fast one on me?
These things just didn’t happen.
No wonder the media wouldn’t leave us alone.
They were waiting for it to all fall apart.
Hell, sometimes I feared it would all fall apart.
Who gets married to their first boyfriend/lover in this day and age?
A very small percentage that’s who!
Unless, of course, it was an arranged marriage, stuff like that still took place.
“Watch your step.” Matt said sharply as I stumbled over the top stair.
He tightened his hold on my hand and shut the basement door behind us.
“Let me get change first. Wait for me in my office.”
I nodded quickly and warned as he brought my hand to his lips, “Don’t take too long, Matt.”
Releasing my hand, he added, “And I do enjoy your cooking, poppet, but I doubt Grumps would be able to handle the level of spiciness you insist on infusing in every meal you prepare. I still can’t quite forget the taste of -”
“Stop going on about it.” I playfully punched his arm.
“It was poor judgement on my part to experiment with the Scotch Bonnet peppers and fruits, I admitted it, move on, you beast.”
His deep laugh caressed my senses like a warm, comfy blanket as he smacked my ass in return.
“I’ll be 20 minutes.”
I watched as he walked off, marvelling at the tightness of his ass.
Then I resumed thinking about my current dilemma.
Six months really wasn’t a long time.
I needed my Aunt Cleo, needed to tell her how scared I was over my engagement, needed to hear her say it would be ok.
“Hmph. Fat chance that’s going to happen.” I mumbled.
My steps were just a shade lighter than a full out stomp to Matt’s office.
George spotted me and advised he would bring my breakfast to the office.
I plopped down in Matt’s leather chair and propped my feet up on his desk as my eyes wandered around.
A smile tickled the edges of my mouth when I spotted the picture on his desk.
When had that been taken?
It was one of me in the studio.
There was another picture hidden behind that one and this picture made me blush.
Cheeky pervert.
It was one of me fast asleep in bed with the sheets barely covering my bare limbs.
I grimaced at the wildness of my hair and promised myself to grow up and wear my head scarf whenever I spent the night here.
“Here you are, Ms DuMont.” George walked in balancing a tray.
“You made it, right?” Best to be sure.
I would hate to lift the cover and see wet eggs again.
“Yes, Ms DuMont,” he confirmed with a waggle of bushy grey eyebrows as he came over and placed the tray in front of me.
“I doubt Mr Bradley would appreciate your feet on his desk, Ms DuMont.”
I ignored his chastisement and lifted the lid.
“Oh, George, you are the best and don’t you think you should call me Madi?”
“No, it would be improper.” he replied all starchy-like.
I grinned as I picked up the fork and started on my eggs.
He had done bacon also with some buttered toast.
“I don’t care about that, George.” I mumbled with my mouth half-full.
George did nothing to hide his distaste.
I had done it on purpose, to ‘wind him up’ as Liam would say.
“Yes, well, I do, Ms DuMont,” he stated firmly, yet he lingered in Matt’s office, absentmindedly straightening the stack of files by the edge.
“You never mention your family, George.” I said after swallowing another forkful of yummy eggs.
George gave me a tired smile.
“Because I have none.”
I put the fork down.
“No one?”
His tired smile turned into a sad one.
“No, Ms DuMont.” He fiddled with the stack again.
“I have come to view Mr Bradley and his family as my own, although it is presumptuous to say so.”
I got up from the chair and walked around to the grey haired butler.
He refused to look at me and I tapped his arm until he did.
“I think you’re great and I hope when Matt and I get married you’ll see me as your family too. Family is very important.” I said with a touch of melancholy.
Then I hugged him quickly.
Yes, yes, I knew he found it improper but sometimes you just need a damn hug.
The sound of a harsh cough had both George and me turning towards the door.
The FBI had finally caught up to me.
“Good morning, Mr Bradley,” I greeted with a strained smile.
“Grumps,” he corrected and levelled George with a cold stare.
George immediately inclined his head politely in Grumps’s direction and excused himself.
Grumps wandered further into Matt’s office while I returned to the chair I had recently vacated.
I told myself it was because I wanted to finish eating and not due to wanting some form of protection against Grumps.
Matt’s desk afforded a good measure of protection if the old man stayed on the other side of it.
“Madison, has Matthew not told you the proper manner of interacting with his members of staff?” Grumps never beat around the bush, did he?
“Why were you in such a familiar position with George?”
I took a forkful of eggs and looked up at Grumps.
“I treat people like people. Besides, George is practically family, Matt told me he’s been around all his life.”
Grumps peered at my studio through the glass wall as he spoke.
“Be that as it may, he is an employee of my grandson and should be treated as such.”
I stuck the forkful of eggs in my mouth and chewed silently as I pondered the best way to address his statement.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
To me it was unnatural.
This was another issue I would need to deal with if I married Matt.
Did I just think if ?
My eyes landed to the beautiful engagement ring gracing my left hand.
“And how do you treat staff, Mr Bra - Grumps?” I finally asked.
“With a certain level of respect, of course. They do after all tend to your needs,” Grumps snapped.
“But you must always ensure you do not blur the lines of your relationship. They are employees, not friends. They should be in the background-”
“Seen but ignored?” I interrupted as I picked up some crispy bacon.
“Do not interrupt me, Madison.” Grumps said curtly.
He smoothed his hands over his jacket and my eyes narrowed.
Where had he gotten those clothes from?
Had he brought an overnight bag last night?
That would mean he had already planned on staying at Matt’s, which meant he had already assumed everything would be fine between them after last night.
I inhaled sharply.
And that meant Grumps had known I would forgive him and inform Matt of this.
Son of a bastard.
He had played me.
He knew exactly what to do to get in my good books.
How?
How on earth could he have read me so easily?
These damned Bradley men!
I chewed my bacon stoically, cursing myself for being a pawn in Grumps’s manoeuvrings.
“I will arrange for you to speak to Hannah, my granddaughter will instruct you on the proper way to behave.” He rubbed his chin, a reflective grimace on his face.
“I would direct you to Portia but we all know she is less than pleased with the prospect of having you as a daughter-in-law.”
“I don’t need instruction and thanks for pointing out Portia doesn’t like me.”
I grabbed another piece of bacon and shoved the whole thing in.
I tried not to swallow before it was chewed completely.
Better to have a full mouth to stop my instinctive retorts.
Grumps waved a dismissive hand through the air as he said, “It is good sense to know how people perceive you-”
“I know she doesn’t like me. Neither does your son.” I replied in anger.
Urgh.
Grumps could get under my skin so quickly.
“Please do not interrupt me again, it is impolite. I hope you don’t speak to Matthew in this way. A woman should-”
“If you say know her place, I will…I’ll-” I didn’t know what I would do but if he gave me some macho bullshit he would be in my bad books again.
“Calm down,” Grumps began to walk around the office.
It was unsettling, making me feel like he was getting ready to pounce.
Huh, for an old man he moved well.
He continued, “I simply want to ensure you begin to act in a manner befitting the wife of a Bradley.”
With that comment I had now reached my quota of William Bradley Snr for the day.
I jumped to my feet, trying not to feel angry but failing miserably.
“Maybe I don’t want to be the wife of a Bradley.” I burst out.
It was too much.
First there was Matt pressuring me to set a date.
Now this.
I was still Madison DuMont, and Madison DuMont was fine just the way she was!
“What is going on in here?” A freshly changed Matt was standing in the doorway with some gift-wrapped boxes in his hand.
He glanced at me then his grandfather.
I stared at the gifts in his hand with dread.
They looked the perfect size for jewellery boxes.
Oh God.
I didn’t need or want any more expensive jewellery and I still hadn’t spoken to Matt about the additions to my wardrobe.
“Nothing,” I forced a neutral tone into my voice and wiped my fingers over my jeans.
The last thing I wanted was to be the cause of another tiff between Matt and Grumps.
“I have to go to the studio, Matt. There’s a load of stuff I need to do before we close for our winter break.”
I picked up the tray of my half-eaten breakfast and started towards the doorway.
Matt didn’t budge.
His gaze turned into a scowl as he observed Grumps who regarded him serenely.
“Poppet,”
“Can we do the present thing later, hon? I really need to get change and head out.”
Matt reluctantly stepped aside, still scowling at Grumps.
“How long will you be?”
“I don’t know. I’ll call when I’m through with what I need to do. Ok?” I just wanted to go.
It was cowardly.
Running away like this, but damn if Grumps didn’t make me see red.
“Alright then,” Matt leaned down to press a kiss over my temple.
“Grumps and Adam will be gone by the time you return so we can finally have some alone time.”
Matt’s pointed reference to getting rid of his family didn’t go unnoticed by Grumps.
I just nodded and left them to it.
I had traded one crazy family for another.
Fuck it.
I was going to call Auntie Cleo today.
I missed her and at least I understood her brand of crazy.
I had no idea on how to deal with Matt’s family.
And I was keeping my damned last name.