Lovers' Dance

Chapter 11

ELEVEN

I WAS BUSY, extremely busy and stressed out. Dante and I were at the moment carefully deliberating over the dancers going through their steps on our auditorium stage. Bri and Eric were on stage, too, showing the dancers what they wanted. The lights above them flickered and I made a mental note to call the electrician to sort out the stage lights. They were on the blink again.

“What do you think about her?” Dante asked quietly, pointing to a dainty, curly haired brunette.

I flicked through the pile of CVs on my lap until I found the one with her picture, scanned it, then nodded at Dante.

The auditions had brought in more people than expected. A little part of me wondered if it was due to my name and face being plastered over the rag sheets recently.

I sighed softly, then paid attention to the talent on stage. We needed dancers for our upcoming production. We had our principals in the important roles, but being a small dance company meant our corp was practically non-existent. This was a usual occurrence whenever we planned a big show and, normally, I enjoyed interviewing the prospective, temporary dancers. Some of the people on the stage had previously worked with us, so they were on the ‘yes’ list. The rest had to prove themselves.

I was not enjoying today. I hadn’t been enjoying all week. Matthew Bradley was fucking with my chi…and my head. A quick glance at my cell confirmed another two missed calls from him. At least he was cutting down. Yesterday, it had been six.

It was Friday. On this same day last week, my life had been unexpectedly thrust in the public domain. That had been bad.

Today was as bad and the reason was the same. Matthew fucking Bradley. After the farce that masqueraded as a dinner party at his parents’ last Saturday, things were awkward between us. I had asked Matt a question, he’d answered truthfully, shamefacedly admitting as he drove us to his mansion in Surrey that his ex had been touching up his goods during dinner. I listened to his passionate apologies and explanation on why he didn’t smack the bitch, not that I advocated violence against women. But, if my ex was fiddling my bits across the dinner table from my current love, fingers would have been broken. Anyway, he apologized, I listened, and when we arrived at his place, he gave me a tour of his second home, which left me speechless. We went to the master bedroom. I asked for something to eat, he went to notify his staff, and I locked his ass out. My vex money was soaked in the purse at his parents’ house. The bedroom door had taken a pounding, but Matt eventually went away while I snuggled in his massive bed and went to sleep. Where he slept that night I had no idea, but there were so many rooms in that place, I was sure he found somewhere. It just wasn’t with me. The Sunday morning I went downstairs, got lost a few times, and found him in one of the kitchens…there were two kitchens. Why? Hell if I knew. He had apologized profusely again. Then he got stern with me and demanded I forgive him for something that wasn’t truly his fault. At that point, he reiterated how he had removed her hand every time she touched him and how he didn’t want to cause a scene in front of the other guests. I had zoned him out after that comment. He drove us back to his Kensington home after I gave him a few death stares, which I had learnt from my Aunt Cleo. She gave the best death stares. I said hello to George, got my stuff, said goodbye to George, jumped in my Beetle and drove off. I hadn’t shouted at Matt once since his disgusting confession.

Matt started his charm offensive on Monday. The idiot. I came home from a day in the studio to see a Porsche Cayenne in front my house. I was pissed because some clown had parked in front of my property and I had to park across the street. When I got inside my house, Matt was waiting for me with the cutest look on his face and the keys to my new ride. I let him take me back outside so he could show me the personalized licence plate and sumptuous interior with little crystal ballet shoes hanging from a chain on the rear view mirror. Matt pointed out the matching key ring with a hopeful smile on his handsome face. I then said he couldn’t buy his way out of trouble. He argued the point and reminded me he had promised to buy me a new car before the jacking off incident. I told him if he didn’t leave with his latest purchase, I would call the cops and he was lucky I hadn’t yet decided to take my house keys back. He’d gotten worried when I’d said that, so worried he apologized for showing up unannounced and agreed to leave at once. He called his driver, waited outside my front door for thirty minutes, and left that expensive vehicle behind. The keys he had slipped through the letter slot.

Tuesday, it had been diamonds. A private courier came by the studio, made me sign for a box and waited for me to open it. He said he was under instructions to ensure the box was opened in his presence. I asked him why, and he said his boss had told him that the sender wanted to know what my reaction was. Gloria had screamed when I opened the box and revealed the contents, Lisa stared in awe, and Dante looked at me and asked, ‘What did he do?’

I thanked the courier and sent him on his way, took an extra-long lunch break to drive to Kensington, where George unwillingly agreed to hold the jewellery until Matt came home from work. George and I had a nice cup of tea before I drove back to my studio. Matt had called an hour after I left George asking why I returned the jewellery and whether I’d forgiven him as yet. I asked if he was okay and not too swamped with work, then told him to stop leaving messages on my cell as I was busy myself.

Wednesday had been flowers. So many flowers I figured he must’ve bought out a florist’s store. I texted him to thank him for the flowers—I was raised with manners—and stated that they were beautiful but, it was such a shame, because once a flower was cut, it dies. ‘Dies’ had been written in capital letters. Matt called seven times after my text. I didn’t answer.

Yesterday, a catering company had shown up at the studio, bringing in trays and trays of delicious food for us. There was so much food, even the students and the dancers auditioning had some. Liam and Gerrard stuffed their faces and asked if Matt would consider going out with a guy. They were willing to bat for the other team if this was the way he treated his partners. I told them to shut up and pass the hot sauce. Yes, Matt had sent a basket specifically for me filled with all manner of fiery condiments. It made me smile, but I didn’t pick up his calls. Instead, I texted again to thank him for the food and ask how Natty was doing. He left a message saying she was fine, and that he was going crazy without me and I had to forgive him. I resisted the urge to call him back and say the only thing I had to do was stay black and die. Oh, and pay my taxes. That had galvanized me into sending a bank transfer to Aunt Cleo so she could resolve her own tax problem.

Today I was on edge, wondering what was coming next instead of assessing the round of adages currently being executed by the dancers on stage.

“Sweet cheeks.” Dante nudged my arm, jolting me from thoughts of Matt. I forced a smile to my face and twisted in the chair to face him.

“Hmm?”

“If we take on twenty temporary dancers, we can just about manage the cost. But, to be honest, I think we’ll need twenty-five.”

“Five more dancers to fill up the court scene, right? That’s where you think we need them?”

Dante nodded with a frown on his sexy lips. I chewed my lips and rubbed my temples. We had to find the cash from somewhere to pay the salaries. But where?

“Did you call Kincaid back?” Dante asked, and I already where he was going with this.

“I’ve been busy this week. We’ve all been busy this week.”

Dante stretched his arms above his head, giving me a nice view of his pecs under the t-shirt he wore. My best friend was hot stuff, hot chocolate stuff. And still with Christine.

“You know he probably wants to make another donation,” Dante continued, wriggling about in the chair until he felt comfortable. “Or help out like he usually does.”

“I know. I’ll call him back later.”

Dante beamed at me. “Problem solved then. So, you gonna tell me what’s going on with your sugar daddy?”

I grimaced and turned back to the stage. “He’s thirty-seven and, no, I’m not telling you.”

“We always tell each other everything,” Dante crooned, swinging his arm over my shoulder and pulling me into a half-hug. “It’ll make you feel better if you spill.”

I shoved him off and gestured to the stage, ignoring the tingles his touch left behind. Damn you, Matthew Bradley. If he hadn’t let Aphrodite touch him, we would’ve been sexing all week long. I should’ve stayed a virgin. It was better not knowing what you were missing out on than suffering this constant desire for sexual satisfaction.

“What will make me feel better is deciding which dancers we want and getting them to learn the choreography in a short space of time. We’ve earmarked December 15th as opening night. It’s September already, D.” I groaned out loud, too loud it seemed, because Bri stopped everyone and turned to where we sat.

“Are you not happy with the adages, Madi?” Man, her voice was lovely.

Dante told her to carry on while I had a mini-breakdown flicking through the resumes in my lap.

“Stop worrying, Madi. You always worry whenever we have an upcoming production.” Dante suddenly narrowed his eyes at me. I leaned back a bit, not liking the expression on his striking features. He licked his lips, then said, “It’s your birthday in a few weeks.”

“I know,” I muttered unhappily. Shit. It came around so fast.

“The usual plans?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

I nodded and a bitter smile curled up my mouth. “Yep, we get wasted on my birthday, then we dance all day long the following day—”

“I’ll take you to the cemetery the day after that,” he said solemnly. That bit had been added since our move to the UK. Three years ago, I had visited my parents’ grave for the first time since their funeral. It had been hard.

I nodded again before staring at the crowded stage. When Dante and I first became friends all those years ago, he used to ask why I never wanted a birthday party. Jamal, my older cousin, who used to hang with Dante, explained to him that I didn’t like my birthday because it made people die, and it was best to stay away from me around that time, in case my death cooties got hungry and needed to kill someone else. Nice, right? Funny thing was, Jamal didn’t need to tease me about it. I already believed wholeheartedly that I was some sort of evil child who couldn’t save her parents and was wholly responsible for the entire accident. Aunt Cleo had wanted me to see a psychiatrist, Uncle David didn’t. He said it was a waste of money, and I would grow out of it. Anyway, once Dante learned about my parents’ death, he made it his business to invite me to his treehouse on the anniversary of their death. We would drink Kool-aid his mom had made and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then practice our ballet moves until our feet hurt. He made an unbearable time bearable.

“You don’t have to come,” I said.

“I’m coming,” he stated, reaching out to tweak my chin. “We’ve always been together on that day and that’s not going to change.”

“What about Christine? What if she has plans for that day?” I asked curiously. Last year, there hadn’t been a Christine. There was a Laura who got dumped a month before my birthday and a Beverly two weeks after my birthday, who hadn’t made it to Christmas. Dante was hot, women wanted him. All the freaking time.

“Girl, please.” Dante scoffed. “As if she’s gonna tell me what I can or can’t do with my main girl.”

I grinned at the ‘main girl’ title, pushing away the depressing thoughts of my parents and punched him lightly on the arm. The butterflies were there in my stomach—maybe not as many as before Matt—but there was definite fluttering taking place.

“Let’s concentrate, Dante.” I got serious. “I like her, him and him. Mark them down as potentials and stop pulling my ear. What are you? Five? For crying out loud, act right.”

My cell buzzed on the seat next to me and a cursory glance confirmed it was Matt.

“Answer the damn thing, sweet cheeks,” Dante said as he stood up and stretched, giving me a nice view of a fit male specimen. “I’m calling a break now, and call Kincaid when you get a chance today.”

I nodded, eyes glued to my cell as Dante walked off towards the stage. Should I answer? I was pissed off, but my damned hand didn’t want to listen to my brain. Before I realized what I’d done, I could hear Matt’s frustrated voice coming out from the cell pressed to my ear.

“Poppet? Are you there? Hello?”

I took a shaky breath, unable to respond, and Matt must have heard it because there was a short pause on his end before he said softly, “Madi, darling, talk to me.”

The ability to use words continued to elude me.

He continued in that deep, masculine voice of his. “I miss you, poppet, and I’m so fucking sorry. Please, say something. I need to hear your voice.”

My mouth opened slightly. I shut it. All I could see was that blonde goddess, picturing her touching something that should only belong to me.

“Madison,” Matt said sternly, and my anger bubbled over. He wanted me to talk; fine, I’d talk.

“Why are you calling me, Matthew?” I asked coldly.

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “You know why, poppet. To apologize for the millionth time. To ask for forgiveness—”

“Forgiveness?” I interrupted scathingly. “You expect me to forgive you after last Saturday? Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m in the process of losing it, yes,” he shot back. “Because I can’t stand this distance between us. I don’t want to have this discussion over the phone. Can I stop by later?”

He didn’t want to have the discussion? The arrogant asshole. Typical. Everything must be done on his terms. Well, not this time.

“No.”

“Poppet,” he said in frustration. “We have to talk about this. Face to face. I know you’re angry with me and rightly so—”

“Angry?” I cut him off as I juggled the papers on my lap. “I’m not angry, Matt. I’m done with you, with whatever this is…was. I may be inexperienced, but I’ve watched a lot of movies and read loads of books. Everyone knows if there’s ongoing drama between your man and his ex, things get out of hand, someone gets stabbed and the girlfriend ends up in jail. I’m too short to go to jail.”

Matt chuckled down the line. Damn it. I missed his smug laughter. Stupid, idiotic, sexy man.

“In this scenario of yours,” he drawled, “who gets stabbed? Not the boyfriend, I hope.”

“No one knows until it happens,” I said, smiling unconsciously, then stopping myself. I needed to hang up the phone before he did some sort of mind control trick to make me forgive him.

“Madi.” He breathed huskily into the phone, and my nipples tightened from the way he said my name. The man was lethal. He wasn’t physically there, yet my body responded without shame.

I glared down at my boobs, mentally ordering them to behave before I spoke coldly. “Matt, I’m extremely busy and you need to stop calling me, stop buying me things and, for God’s sake, have someone move that SUV from in front of my house.”

There was pause on his end. I could hear the clackety-clack of a keyboard. He must be in his office, taking time from his busy day to call me. Stop it. Stop it right now, Madison DuMont, I scolded myself.

“Natty wants your number,” Matt said unexpectedly. “I’m loathe to give it to her, but she seems fond of you, poppet. Both girls are. They’ve been texting me all week asking when next they’ll see you. It’s becoming tiresome.”

The sudden change in topic distracted me. “I like them, too. Give her my number and tell her to call me. I’ve got to go, Matt.”

“How’s work?” he asked quickly. It was an obvious attempt to keep me on the phone.

“It’s fine. We’re busy like I said—”

“How’s the choreography going? From what I saw last Friday, it looks amazing,” he said supportively.

Against my will I replied, “Really? We think so, too. Dante and I are swamped with auditioning extra dancers for the production. We’re running out of time if we want everything—” I stopped. How did he do this?

The silence stretched between us and I fiddled with the pile of resumes on my lap.

“Poppet,” he murmured after half a minute. “Talk to me.”

“I’ve got nothing to say.”

“Madi, I’m sorry about what happened at dinner. You have no idea how sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I love you, I miss you and I need to see you. I need you, poppet. Can I stop by later?”

The ‘yes’ was on the tip of my tongue. It was only through sheer, desperate resolve I managed to avoid blurting it out. I swallowed the lump in my throat and said instead, “Matt, I need time to think and I have to go.”

“How long?” he asked in an empty voice.

“I don’t know.”

“Are the press leaving you alone?” Another suspicious change of topic. This time, I wasn’t falling for it.

“A few reporters were hanging around earlier this week, but nothing today. I have to go. Goodbye.”

I hung up the call and tried to control the surge of emotion running through me. It was good hearing his voice. I fucking missed him. The way he kissed me, the way he touched me, even the way he’d get irritated with me and frown those delicious lips of his.

“Stupid motherfucker,” I muttered in annoyance. What was wrong with him? Letting that woman touch his junk…junk that was mine. There it was, the seething jealousy that rippled through me ten times a day. I stood up, clutching the resumes to my chest and slipping my cell into the pocket of my jeans. I needed to forget about Matt, at least for now. Shit had to get done, and me moping over him was unproductive. A decision over the extra dancers needed to be made today. And I had to call Geoffrey. I sighed, gingerly making my way between the seats. We had to plan the Christmas recital for the beginners and intermediate classes. We were still lacking an artistic director. I had to place an order for the tickets to be printed for The Ice Queen and Princess, but I had no idea how it would look. We needed to source costumes…a shitload of costumes. We needed backing, and I hadn’t been as focused on drumming up sponsorship as I should have been. I felt overwhelmed.

And my fucking birthday was only weeks away. God help me. Another year, another anniversary of their deaths. I stubbed my foot on the back of a chair and yelped. The resumes went fluttering to the floor as I jerked in pain. I bent down to pick them up, wondering how much it would take before I had a mental breakdown and ended up in padded room. Time heals, that’s what they say. Whoever said that was a liar. Time didn’t heal shit. Time was a cruel bastard—it served to remind me of years lost, years that we should have shared together. They never got the chance to see me dance. They never would…

>>>

Matt scowled at the men surrounding the large table in one of the conference rooms. They avoided his hard glances, except his older brother, who wore an exasperated expression on his face.

“What exactly are you telling us, Brandon?” Matt asked, the frigidness of his tone caused the others to shoot pitying looks at Brandon Eghart, one of the executives.

“It was an unexpected development—” he began, trying to look as confident as possible. It didn’t work.

Matt cut him off with a terse, “Unexpected development? Do we not pay you enough to ensure there are contingencies in place to deal with these unexpected developments?”

“Matt, how could we know—”

“Because you’re paid to know,” Adam burst out from the opposite end of the table. “Now we have a serious problem. Do you know how much it is costing the company? If that oil refinery isn’t up and running by Monday, I swear, Brandon, your next job will be cleaning up aisles in Tesco. Millions of pounds, you fool. How inept are you? It’s bad enough Egypt has undergone huge uprisings in the recent past, bad enough that those Production Sharing Agreements are the most complex contracts I have ever come across.” Adam stood up, face almost purple with rage. “But you’re now sitting here telling us the contractor who supplies and maintains the exorbitantly priced machinery for all our refineries out there, is trying to force a thirty percent increase in what we pay by allegedly cutting a deal with the bloody Americans? Get your arse out there and get those blasted renegotiation papers signed.”

Brandon Eghart looked deflated as he stood up, the other execs carefully avoided his eyes. They didn’t want to risk the brothers’ anger.

Matt held a hand up and the man paused, glancing fearfully at him. Matt ignored his cowering executive and motioned to Adam.

“A ten percent increase should appease the contractor. He knows there’s no way we’ll agree to a thirty percent hike.”

Adam rubbed a hand across his jaw, glowering at Eghart who was standing as still as possible.

“We need to know what figures our competitors are tossing around, Matt. If it’s true, the contractor has the upper hand and we can’t afford our production levels to fall any further.”

Matt exchanged a silent look with his brother. His eyes narrowed as a determined smile slid over his face. Adam started nodding slowly, in tune to Matt’s thoughts. They were brothers, grew up together, worked together. They were Bradley men, and no one tried to fuck them over.

“Give the contractor a twenty-five percent increase,” Adam said. The execs began murmuring, a low nervous din of shocked whispers.

“Find out everyone who owns their stock,” Matt added in a hard, unrelenting voice. “Acquire fifty-two percent, as quietly as possible.”

“I like fifty-five percent, Matt,” Adam mused while sitting back down. He was grinning at Matt, the same predatory gleam in his eyes. “It has a better ring to it.”

Matt shrugged, then turned his hard gaze on Eghart. “Get it done.”

The man nodded and pushed his chair back further before hurrying to the door.

“Oh, and Brandon,” Matt called when he was about to open it. Eghart turned with a feeble smile.

“Yes, Matt?”

“Ineptitude is a trait frowned upon in this company. Let this be your first and last warning.”

Eghart paled, nodded and fled the conference room.

Adam opened the file in front of him. “If everyone can turn to page seventeen, we need to assess the viability of four of our smaller companies in the current economical market. A decision must be made today on merging them.”

“We’ll take a lot of flak if the merger results in redundancies, Adam.” A thin, wiry exec, wearing a brown, ill-fitting business suit piped up.

“Redundancies are unavoidable,” Matt stated, head bent as his eyes flicked restlessly over the page. “These four companies are operating at a loss. We need to lower our costs or risk them all going under, and my father will not be pleased with that.”

At the mention of his father, the men around the table were agitated. William Bradley was head of their vast empire, although he was technically retired. He kept his office in the building and made it his business to stop by at least three times a week. Everyone knew his retirement didn’t halt his decision-making through his sons. Everyone knew he still ran things.

Matt sighed softly, distracted with thoughts of Madi. Bloody hell. He missed her and it was unnerving. Matt had never missed someone as much as he missed her. At least she had spoken to him earlier, which was a marked improvement on those impersonal texts. Why was she being stubborn? It wasn’t like he had shagged Louisa. What did she want from him? In all his life, he had never apologized so much and it angered him. He was Matthew Bradley, he didn’t apologize. So why was he thinking up new ways to appease his dark beauty? New ways to say sorry, to gain her forgiveness for something he felt wasn’t his fault. Bloody Louisa Gilliford and her wandering hands.

Someone asked him a question, and Matt pushed thoughts of his personal problems aside and focused on business. It was another three hours before the meeting drew to a halt and he was able to escape to his office. His secretary, Rachel, was under strict instructions to hold incoming calls and guard his office door like her life depended on it. He needed time to think. Time. Madi said she needed time. Bollocks to that. He didn’t want to give it to her. What if she decided to end things? Matt remembered their earlier conversation as he poured himself a stiff drink at the sleek bar stationed in the corner of his office. She had said she was done with it. What the fuck was she playing at? Things may have gotten out of hand…bad choice of words in this circumstance. Matt tossed back his drink and scowled at the glass he held. What did she want from him?

The door to his office opened and he could hear Rachel’s alarmed voice wafting in loudly.

“He’s not to be disturbed.”

Matt glanced at the intruder, an exasperated sound leaving his lips. Rachel followed his brother into the office.

“I’m sorry, Mr Bradley—”

“It’s all right, Rachel.” He waved her apologies away. “Adam never listens to anyone but himself.”

With a harsh look directed at Adam, Rachel spun on her heels, shoulder-length brown waves flicking wildly over the shoulders of her jacket, as if her hair was annoyed with his brother’s unwanted disturbance. The door closed, a tad louder than necessary, and Adam stared at it for a second before walking over to where Matt stood.

“How long has she been working here?”

Matt placed his empty glass on the bar’s smooth surface. Adam arched an eyebrow, noting the open bottle of spirits.

“Long enough,” he replied. “What do you want, Adam?”

Adam ignored Matt’s question and sent a frown at the door. “Her office skills need a serious overhaul. She told me to come back later. Does she not understand who she’s talking to?”

Matt had to smile at Adam’s arrogance. “She’s my secretary and is paid to do what I tell her. What do you want?”

“What’s wrong? You seemed to be somewhere else in that meeting. In fact, you’ve been distracted all week.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m busy. There’s a snag in our takeover bid. Dad told you about that, right?”

Adam nodded slowly, peering at him, then glancing again at the open bottle resting innocently on top of the bar. “What’s wrong, Matt?”

“Nothing,” he replied emphatically. Matt wanted to be alone with his thoughts, and Adam was an interruption he could do without right. Goddamn it. He needed his poppet and she was being difficult. The last time he’d enjoyed her delectable body was a week ago. It felt like forever to him. He wanted her naked and writhing in his bed. He wanted her melting on his tongue. He wanted those slender legs of hers wrapped around his waist as he lost himself in the moist tightness of her body. He was going crazy with unfulfilled lust. The vivid images of their bodies intimately pressed together haunted his every waking hour, and his bloody dreams, too. He missed her intoxicating smell, her delicious taste, her beautiful, smooth, dark skin contrasting with his and covered in the glistening sheen of sweat from their intense lovemaking. He fucking missed her, and he’d had enough of her childish behaviour.

“Nothing’s wrong, Adam,” he repeated emptily.

Adam shook his head, strode over to Matt’s desk where he picked up the phone and punched out numbers.

Matt eyed him warily, wondering what the hell he was up to.

“I need you in Matt’s office.”—pause—“No, the meeting went as well as can be expected.”—long pause—“I don’t care how busy you are. Get your arse in here, Nathan. I swear you and Matt have no respect for your elders or, should I say, your betters. Two minutes.” Adam slammed the phone down and folded his arms as he leaned on the desk. If Matt’s current expression made him nervous, he gave no indication of it.

“Why did you call him, Adam?” Matt asked wearily. He didn’t need this.

“Because something is obviously wrong and don’t say it isn’t. I’m your brother. I was there to witness your shitty nappies being changed. I know you and I know when something is bugging you. If you won’t tell me, tell Nathan.”

Matt ran a hand over his face and made his way over to take a seat behind his desk. “Your concerns are unwarranted.”

“Is it truly work or something else?” Adam slid into one of the chairs in front his desk and scrutinized his face. “Talk to me.”

Matt observed his older brother. Dark brown hair was swept back to reveal his prominent features, blue-grey eyes were staring expectantly at him.

Matt sighed and ran a hand over his face again. “Madi’s mad at me.”

“Ah ha!” Adam said. “I knew something was up. Why is she mad at you? Does it matter? Buy her something nice. Women like that.”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. He was about to unload to his brother when the door opened.

“You can’t go in there.” Rachel unprofessionally battled with Nathan to win the door handle. “He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“It’s okay, Rachel,” Matt called, flashing his loyal secretary a grateful smile.

Nathan shook his head at her, gloating as he pushed the door open further and strode in. “Really, Rachel, I wonder about you sometimes.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and huffed. “You’re disturbing my boss, Mr Walthamstow. You and his brother. I won’t have you barging into his office like this.”

Nathan had a soft spot for Matt’s secretary. He found her northern accent charming. “How’s your father doing? Have you been back to Manchester to visit recently?”

She narrowed her eyes further, squinting up at him with barely concealed suspicion. “He’s still in the hospital. Thanks for asking, and I’m putting you in the book.”

Nathan twisted his blonde head to grin at Matt before answering the bristling secretary, “For how long this time?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she snapped, then popped her head around Nathan’s broad shoulder to send Matt an unhappy look. “I’m sorry, Mr Bradley. I won’t allow anyone else to get past me.”

“It’s okay, Rachel,” Matt repeated, and with a worried expression plastered across her face, she closed the door.

“Right,” Nathan said briskly, walking over to the desk. “I’m finishing for the day in one hour.” He pulled out the seat next to Adam and plonked onto it, glaring at both brothers. “Bella’s parents have invited us to their place in the Cotswolds and we need to beat the traffic out of London. Whatever it is you need me for, it better be quick.”

“Madi’s mad at Matt and he’s being cagey about it,” Adam advised in a droll voice.

Nathan’s scowl deepened. “You called me here for this? Buy her something nice. Women like that sort of thing.”

“That’s what I said,” Adam agreed, with a nod.

Matt regarded them silently for a moment before admitting, “I have. She’s still mad.”

“What did you buy her?” Nathan asked in exasperation. “It can’t be any cheap, old dross, Matt.”

Matt gave him the look that comment deserved. “A Porsche Cayenne with personalized plates…”

“It’s the little touches that make all the difference,” Adam mused then stopped, mouth parting in shock. “Wait, what?”

Nathan chuckled at Adam’s expression. “Don’t look so surprised, Adam. Matt’s always been show-offy.” He turned his attention back to Matt. “And she’s still mad?”

Matt nodded, frustration pouring off his face. “Then I bought her jewellery, ridiculously expensive jewellery.”

Adam was looking alarmed. “How expensive?”

Matt ignored Adam, instead exchanging a thoroughly helpless glance with his best friend. “She returned it, Nathan. Diamonds. What woman in her right mind returns diamonds?”

Adam looked sick, probably doing a mental tally of his younger brother’s spending.

“I got her dozens of bouquets of flowers,” Matt continued, starting to get irritated. “She sent a text—a text. It had the word ‘dies’ in it.”

“Bloody hell, mate.” Nathan sat up straighter in the chair. “What did you do?”

Matt ran his hand through his hair, ruffling the waves into disarray. “I didn’t do anything.”

Nathan gave him a disbelieving stare, holding a curled hand up to make his point. “A Porsche Cayenne”—index finger standing proud—“diamond jewellery”—middle finger up straight—“flowers”—ring finger joining the others.

“I had a catering company take gourmet food over to her studio yesterday,” Matt added. “I’ve apologized a million times and she’s still mad. Nothing is working, and I don’t understand why.”

“Is she on her monthlies?” Adam asked, looking upset over Matt divulging his recent spending on his current girlfriend. It was worrying. He didn’t like the thought of this woman making Matt spend money. He didn’t like it at all.

“What?” Matt asked in annoyance. “What the hell does her monthlies have to do with this?”

“Women act irrationally around their time of month,” Adam said glibly. Nathan bit his lower lip, fighting a smile at the look Matt gave his older brother.

“Adam, I am not going to discuss Madi’s cycle with you…that’s just—just shut up.”

“I’m only pointing it out,” Adam muttered under his breath. “Everyone knows women get temperamental around that time.”

Nathan let slip a little laugh that he covered with a cough. As an only child, he never had to deal with an irritating sibling. These two men were the closest thing to it, and it amused him when they acted this way with each other.

“What did you do, Matt?” Nathan asked. “Madi doesn’t seem the type to fly off the handle for no reason.”

Matt directed his glower at Nathan. “Are you in control of your faculties? Have you forgotten the pub scene and last Friday’s media storm? She was livid.”

“With just cause,” Nathan reasoned in her defence. He didn’t want to admit it, but he liked the young woman who had turned his friend’s world upside down. Nathan had been concerned about Matt’s continued womanizing. Since he found his peace with Bella, he had hoped Matt could find his own with someone worthy of him. Madison DuMont may not be from their world, but she had an effect on Matt that Nathan had never seen before. It was changing him, and change was always good. Once their little dalliance had run its course, Matt would be ready to find himself a wife.

“Did it have something to do with the dinner party last week?” Adam asked, assessing Matt intently. “She and Grumps got into it.”

“What dinner party? What happened between her and William?” Nathan’s head swivelled between the two brothers before settling on Matt. “You didn’t tell me any of this.”

Matt didn’t like the way this conversation was heading. He felt he was being unfairly punished for Louisa’s actions, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit what had taken place under that table.

“She called him senile in a roundabout way,” Adam said with a gleeful smirk on his face. “You should’ve seen his face, Nathan. God. She’s a feisty little thing, isn’t she?”

Nathan was blinking fast, eyes on Matt. “She insulted your grandfather? What did he do? What did you do?”

“You two are no help at all,” Matt groused. “What does it matter why she’s angry? She is and I can’t seem to fix it. Fuck’s sake, I’ve never had a woman stay mad at me. She’s acting like a child and it’s infuriating. I’ve apologized profusely. What more does she want?”

Nathan and Adam exchanged a knowing look.

“She’s twenty-six, Matt,” Adam said matter-of-factly.

“And you’re not used to not getting your own way,” Nathan added. “Look, she’s completely different from your usual women.”

“If that’s in reference to her race, you need to get the fuck out of my office, Nathan,” Matt said coldly.

Nathan rubbed his jaw and scoffed. “No, that’s not what I meant and, I already told you, I don’t have a problem with her being black.”

Matt snorted in derision, then sighed loudly. “You’re right, I’m not used to this. I didn’t think women were complicated until I met her.”

“Women aren’t complicated,” Adam said, getting to his feet. “They are simple creatures. God knows I’ve been with enough to tell. Look, she’s mad and you’re in the doghouse. Do what dogs do: beg.”

Matt’s mouth tightened. “I’ve apologized numerous times, practically begged forgiveness—”

“Try harder,” Adam quipped. “And stop moping around the office. It’s bad for staff morale and it’s getting on my nerves. If you want to get back in the funhouse with your new plaything, then swallow your pride for once. I’ve got another meeting in thirty minutes so I’ll see you later. Don’t forget the charity ball on Sunday. You can’t miss this one like the last.”

At the mention of the upcoming function, Nathan groaned. “Bollocks. I’d forgotten about that. Do I have to attend?”

“Are you a top executive of Bradley Industries?” Adam drawled blandly.

Nathan squinted at him in response.

Adam squinted back and ordered, “Make an appearance, both of you.”

“I’m in the Cotswolds this weekend,” Nathan replied, getting up himself.

Matt looked at his brother and best friend, shaking his head slowly. Their input over the situation with Madi hadn’t been helpful. He was still at a loss on how to fix things between them.

“It’s the gala of the month,” Adam said firmly. “Everyone’s going to be there, and that includes you two. I’ve got to go.” With that, he sauntered out of Matt’s office.

When the door closed, Nathan turned to Matt. “Listen, mate, maybe this is a sign you should end things with Madison. Don’t look at me like that, I’m simply giving you my opinion. I like her. She’s young and probably not used to dealing with someone like you. You’ve apologized which, by the way, I find shocking. Give it time. I’m sure she’ll come around and, if she doesn’t…find yourself a new bed partner. I’ve got to make a call. Bella won’t be pleased with me. Who knows, I might find myself in the doghouse with you. See you later, mate.”

“Cheers, mate.” Matt did nothing to hide the sarcasm in his tone as Nathan left his office. He rubbed his face vigorously, then took a deep breath, a determined gleam filling his eyes. He’d had enough. He would go over to hers after work and insist she stop this behaviour. With his mind made up, Matt pushed his doubts aside and focused on work. The little voice of warning at the back of his mind wouldn’t shut up though. Was she right in her anger? Should the blame lie at his doorstep?

“Bloody Louisa,” Matt muttered softly. He should have never taken Madi to dinner last week.