Chapter 5.2
Matt felt like a teenaged boy on a first date. Over-excited, nervous and hoping to go all the way. He stole a look in the mirror, willing her to flash him some more of her smooth dark skin. Beautiful. She was so damn beautiful it made him ache. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nathan reaching up towards the sun visor.
“Don’t even think about it,” he growled in a low voice to his friend.
“What?” Nathan whispered back, trying for an innocent look and failing miserably. “The sun’s in my eyes.”
“My fist will be in your eye if you touch that visor,” he warned quietly.
“What was that?” she called from behind his seat, sounding muffled.
“Nothing. Are you finished, Madi? I need to reverse into that spot.”
>>>
I told him I was done as I pulled my favourite cowboy boots out my bag and stuffed my ballet shoes in. I thought about freshening up my make-up, but what the hell? It wasn’t like we were on a date. We were going to get something to eat, a thank you for him rescuing me again. I was trying my best not to think about what we’d gotten up to that night in his bed. Shit. Had he told his friend about that?
Matt parked as I pulled my hair up into a loose ponytail. Nathan was openly staring at me. Was he a weirdo?
Once the car was parked, Matt jumped out to open the door for me. I stepped out of the car, then flung myself into his arms. He stood frozen for a second before wrapping his arms tightly around me.
“You’re the best, Matt,” I murmured into his neck. He smelt so good. “I can’t believe you rescued me again.”
He didn’t say anything and I leaned back to gaze up at him. He licked his lips slowly, then twisted his head in Nathan’s direction. His friend had exited the car and was watching us curiously over the top of Matt’s car.
“Go get a ticket,” Matt ordered, before turning back to me. “I’m going to kiss you, poppet. I think I’ve earned it.”
I stayed absolutely still as he lowered his lips towards mine. Then we made contact. And the world disappeared as he ravished my lips with a kiss so intense it took my breath away. Man, he could kiss.
“Wow,” I whispered when we broke apart.
“Wow, indeed,” he agreed. I struggled in his arms and he let me slide back to the ground. I checked him out. In his expensive suit, he looked every bit the wealthy, successful business man I suspected him to be. It was unnerving to think I had been swapping saliva with him.
“You’re overdressed for a pub,” I teased, trying to affect a casual demeanour. My body was shaking. How could I be light-headed from a kiss?
Matt’s gaze ran over me, taking in my sleeveless t-shirt and khaki shorts, complete with brown knee-high cowboy boots.
“I like your top,” he finally said, eyes lingering around my boobs. The t-shirt had a picture of a cupcake with the words ‘eat me’ underneath. He stroked my mouth with his thumb. “I hoping to do exactly that.”
I shuddered. An embarrassing shudder went straight through me when he said that.
“Got the ticket,” Nathan said on his return. I hadn’t noticed when he left. Matt kept staring at me. I couldn’t hold his piercing glance with my eyes, so I slid my hands under his jacket to slip it off. He didn’t stop me, and why in the heck was I touching him so freely? As if he was mine? I tugged the jacket off, then started on his tie. He stood next to his car on the busy street and let me do as I wished. I tossed his jacket and tie into the car. My hands were shaking from his kiss.
“Am I presentable?” he mocked. I cocked my head, lips pursed, then undid the top buttons of his shirt and rolled his sleeves up.
“You are now.” I looked him up and down, satisfied he didn’t look like a corporate banker anymore.
“Are you going to partially undress me, too?” his friend joked from the other side of the car.
“Sod off,” Matt replied with a laugh, but there was a hardness to his jaw as he regarded his friend. Nathan held his hands up and shrugged in good humour. I didn’t think Matt was finding him amusing at this moment. I reached back into the car to get my cell and wallet, then Matt locked up. He linked arms with me and we started walking towards the pub.
“God, I’d forgotten how tiny you are,” he said, as I walked between him and his friend.
“She is quite small, Matt,” Nathan agreed.
I jerked to a stop and pouted at them. “Hey, I’m normal sized for a ballerina.”
They exchanged an amused glance over my head. I sighed in an exaggerated manner, having come to terms with my small stature years ago. Who didn’t want to be a tall, leggy goddess? But variety was the spice of life, and the world would be a bland place if we all looked the same.
We went into the pub, getting a few looks from patrons. Matt led us over to the corner seats by the window and muscled me in so I ended up with him on one side and Nathan on the other. He smiled at me as his leg brushed mine under the table.
“What do you guys want to eat?” I asked, grabbing a menu and trying not to show how much that little contact with his leg had affected me.
Matt and Nathan took a menu each. I observed them as they perused their menus. Nathan had a derisive curl to his lips while scanning what was on offer. I peeked at Matt out of the corner of my eye. His head was bent over the menu, but he was watching me. We grinned at each other and his leg brushed mine again. Why was he sitting so close?
“The roast chicken baguette sounds fine,” Matt said. His tone indicated the opposite.
Nathan shot him a disbelieving glance.
“What are you going to order, Madi?” Matt asked, closing the menu to give me full attention with his startling grey eyes.
“A burger with everything,” I replied, setting the menu down. “And a pint of Carlsberg. After the day I’ve had, a pint is a definite requisite.”
Matt turned to Nathan. “And you?”
Nathan looked at his menu again and winced. “I remain undecided at the moment. Who can decide from such a gourmet on offer?”
There was definitely a truckload of snooty scorn in his posh British voice. My gaze travelled over the blonde man in his fancy business suit. It was obvious he thought this place beneath him. I chewed my lower lip, wondering what the hell I was doing here with these privileged type of men.
“If nothing appeals to you, then starve,” Matt said succinctly, then leaned back against the worn upholstery to regard me with interest. “You own a dance studio?”
I nodded, still a bit peeved over his friend’s snootiness.
“Tell me about it,” he commanded.
I tilted my head up with a bemused expression at his tone. “You’re quite bossy, Matt.”
He moved about in the seat, trying to fit his long frame comfortably. “I’m not,” he disagreed.
Nathan coughed lightly. I looked over and he was staring at Matt with amusement.
“You’re absolutely right, Madi. May I call you that?”
I nodded and Nathan flashed me a bright smile. Matt cleared his throat in a pointed manner and shot me an expectant look. Oh, yeah, he wanted me to tell him about my studio.
“Can we order the food first?” I nudged him, needing him to move so I could get out. “I’m starving. Have you decided what you want, Nathan?”
Nathan frowned again at the menu in his hand. “I’ll have the Caesar salad. Not much can go wrong with a salad.”
I nudged Matt once more. He slid aside and stood up.
“What about drinks? You guys haven’t said what you want to drink.” I held my wallet and cell as I slid across the seat and stood next to a waiting Matt. Gosh, he was like a Viking, big and strong with a definite edge of danger hovering around him.
“Bottled water,” they said in unison, then shared a knowing grin with each other.
“I’ll be right back.” I checked the table number and headed towards the bar, now unsure about my choice of a pint. Would they think I was an alcoholic? It was a pint. I mean, who has bottled water in a pub? I would get half a pint instead. That was more ladylike.
There were a few people waiting to be served, so I stood at the bar awaiting my turn.
>>>
Matt smiled to himself as he watched her waiting at the bar. She looked great. Instead of looking casual in a t-shirt and khaki shorts with the cowboy boots, Matt thought she looked like a catwalk model posing in bohemian wear and completely unaware of the effect she had on the people around her. He narrowed his eyes at the table of young men who were openly ogling her with lecherous stares.
“Bloody hell, Matt. She’s a little thing, isn’t she.”
Matt gave his attention to Nathan, partially that is. He wanted to keep an eye on the louts perving on Madi.
“Yes.”
“Cute, too,” Nathan added. Matt rolled his eyes, and Nathan conceded begrudgingly. “I’ll admit she’s more stunning than her picture. She doesn’t look twenty-six, closer to twenty I think, but, then again, people of her race are known to age—”
“I sincerely hope you’re not going to make any mention of her race.” Matt cut him off curtly, attention once again locked on that table. One of the men had gotten up and was making his way over to the bar. Matt watched as he strolled up to where Madi stood placing their order. There was more than enough space at the bar for him to stand somewhere else.
“I saw you snogging her back at the car. In the open. What’s gotten into you? And why on earth do you keep calling her poppet? You never use nicknames with women.” Nathan was drumming his fingers over the edge of the table, blatantly perplexed concerning Matt’s behaviour.
“Calm down, Nathan. It’s highly improbable that anyone we know was driving along at the exact moment I kissed her.” Matt let his gaze wander around the pub and its patrons. “And near impossible they would come into a place like this.”
Nathan leaned back against the seat, arms folded as he scrutinized Matt. “Tell me, dear friend, what exactly are you planning to do with this young woman? And for how long?”
Matt held his gaze, thinking over his friend’s words. What was he doing, seated in a pub while awaiting food he was certain would taste like cardboard? He looked at her and a smile split his face. She was frowning at the woman taking her order, and Matt stifled a chuckle as she rifled through her wallet to pull out her ID with a haughty expression on her features.
“You know me, Nathan,” Matt said evasively. “I enjoy new experiences.”
Nathan shook his head slowly. “Did you stop to consider maybe your behaviour regarding this woman—”
“She has a name,” Matt interrupted, a tightening of his mouth the only indication Nathan was beginning to annoy him. “It’s Madison, or Madi if you so choose to use, as long as you use it.”
Nathan inhaled noisily, also frustrated and annoyed with Matt. “Fine. Did you stop to consider your behaviour regarding Madison is directly linked to the pressure being placed upon you to make things official with Louisa?”
Matt jerked back in surprise, completely at a loss over Nathan’s comment. “Why would you think that? It has nothing to do with—she’s coming back. Do try and be pleasant.”
>>>
I sauntered back to our table and Matt stood up to let me slip past him. He didn’t give me much room and I couldn’t avoid bumping into him. “Food’s ordered and our drinks will be here in a minute.” I took my seat, wondering if it had been deliberate on Matt’s part, not giving me enough space to pass without touching him.
“While we wait, you can tell us about your dance studio,” he said. Persistent, wasn’t he? I figured Matt was the type of man who got what he wanted. He exuded a quiet confidence that came from a lifetime of not having to worry if people took you seriously. I doubted he ever experienced what it was like to not be sure of yourself. Matt acted like the world was his, and that was the way it should be.
The waitress brought us our drinks and I began telling them about the dance company Dante and I had started. By the time our food came, Nathan was warming up to me if his outrageous teasing of my accent was anything to go off. When I mentioned my place of birth, he joked I was a deserter and it was common sense to return to ‘our’ Great Britain.
I got stuck into my burger, cutting it into quarters, before demolishing it. Matt laughed while Nathan observed me in mock horror.
“I didn’t think you could manage a burger of that size,” he said, picking at his salad. “But you’ve proved me wrong.”
“I burn a lot of calories with dancing,” I explained. “Although I don’t usually have burgers.” I grabbed a couple of fries and smeared them through the ketchup. “I tend to eat healthy. This is my weekly pig-out.” The fries got popped into my mouth and I chewed with an unrepentant grin on my face. I’d probably never see these two after today. What did it matter if they thought my eating habits were gross? Matt’s leg brushed mine, and I tried to ignore the heat radiating between us. Would he ask for my number? Should I ask for his? No way. I stomped that idea into the ground. Risk humiliation by asking the handsome white man for his number? Hell, no. It was by chance we had run into each other today. Although we had kissed by his car, I seriously doubted he’d given me a second thought after that night. It was a spectacular kiss though.
“Are you the same age as Matt?” I asked Nathan.
“Older,” Matt jumped in with a devious twinkle in his eyes.
Nathan looked offended. “By a few months.”
Matt sipped his water while I chuckled at Nathan’s affront.
“How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?” Nathan asked. There was a sudden undercurrent of tension between him and Matt. Or it felt like that from the way Matt abruptly placed his glass of water on the table.
“Twenty-six,” I answered, finishing off the last few fries on my plate. Mmm, that had been good.
“You’ve accomplished quite a lot for a woman of your age.” Nathan was smiling at me. I wasn’t sure if his smile was genuine. Matt cleared his throat in a decidedly threatening manner and my gaze jumped between them.
“Uh, so what do you guys do?” I asked, wanting this weird tension gone. I was enjoying myself in Matt’s company.
“Nathan works for me.” Matt pushed his plate aside. The half-eaten baguette with untouched fries looked pretty sad.
“We work at the same company,” Nathan clarified with a semi-mean glare in Matt’s direction.
I shrugged, deciding to ignore whatever it was going on between them. “Okay, but what do you guys do?”
Matt casually slung his arm over the back of the seat. His fingers grazed my shoulder and a tremor went through my limbs. He turned his head, flashing me that gorgeous smile of his, and my brain went numb. How could anyone be that good looking? He didn’t look like someone past mid-thirty. He stroked my skin lightly and my mouth went dry.
“I’m suddenly beginning to feel like an unwanted third wheel,” Nathan joked. I blinked up at Matt, his gaze fell to my lips and, without conscious thought, I licked them. Matt’s eyes darkened as he shifted in his seat, bringing us closer together.
“It’s almost uncomfortable watching you two eye hump each other,” Nathan drawled as he took a sip of his water. His words dragged me out of the seductive cloud Matt’s look had sucked me into. Eye hump? What the fuck?
“I’m a virgin,” I hissed in outrage, as Nathan suddenly choked on his drink and spluttered water over the table and himself.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, horrified at myself. What in the world was wrong with me?
“I beg your pardon?” Nathan croaked, wiping a stream of water and dribble off his chin.
Matt squeezed my shoulder, eyes laughing at me and I jerked away, mortified and wanting the floor to open up under me. Why did I feel the need to constantly affirm my lack of promiscuity? To freaking strangers. Was it because I had been raised with the understanding white guys always assumed a black woman was loose? Aunt Cleo had been a firm believer in knowing what black people suffered, and still were suffering at the hands of white people. I was more a live and let live kind of gal.
“She does that when she’s embarrassed,” Matt explained, openly chuckling as he handed Nathan a napkin.
I stared at my hands, head bent to avoid looking at anyone. Oh my God. An uncomfortable silence descended over us. Well, not all of us. Matt was still trying to stifle his laughter. He draped an arm over me and pulled me into a hug.
“Ah, poppet, you do make me laugh.”
“I’m glad you find my humiliation a source of hilarity,” I said tartly, while trying to wriggle away. “This is your fault, you know. I only say stupid shit like that around you.”
Matt’s arm slid lower, until it wrapped around my waist. He bent his lips to my ear and whispered out of Nathan’s hearing, “I’ve not stopped thinking about our night together.”
The memory of his hands and mouth on me popped into my head. The air caught in my throat as a surge of desire made my skin tingle.
Nathan, trying to recover from my outburst, rallied with a polite, “Has your dance company got any upcoming productions, Madi? The last ballet I saw at the Royal Opera House was The Sleeping Beauty. Have you perchance had an opportunity to perform at the Opera House?”
I shook my head, images of Matt touching me intimately dancing before my eyes. I shook my head again to clear those images before sending Nathan a rueful smile. “I wish. But one day we will.”
“I would love to see you dance,” Matt said with a serious face.
“Really?” Why did I feel this spurt of girlish glee? Thank goodness Nathan was acting like nothing unusual had happened. He was going to leave the pub thinking black women were crazy. Blanket generalization, here we come. I mentally apologized to all my sisters out there.
“Yes, really,” Matt confirmed. His hand hadn’t left my waist. It felt unbelievably nice.
There was strength in his fingers, I’d seen him beat two guys up, but his hold on me was gentle. What was I doing? What was I doing?
“I need the bathroom,” I squeaked, grabbing my cell as I pushed Matt aside, who gracefully got to his feet to let me pass. Despite his impressive stature, Matt moved like…like a dancer, smooth, almost liquid-like beneath those muscles, a sleek lion confident in the knowledge that he was king of the jungle and none would oppose him. Arriving at that apt description made me think about the phrase ‘jungle fever’. Oh, shit. Had I caught the fever? Me? I hurried to the ladies, clutching my phone tightly and confused out of my mind.
>>>
Matt watched her scamper away. That arse of hers was amazing, something he noted those lads on the other table seem to be appreciating.
“She isn’t,” Nathan asked, looking around as if wary of being overheard. “Is she?”
With a hard glare at the other table, Matt faced his friend. “Isn’t what?”
“A virgin,” Nathan murmured harshly. “Because it’s disturbing if she is.”
“Why are you here again?” Matt drawled. “I’m a bit hazy on the details.”
Nathan clenched his hand in exasperation. “Matt, I’ve been your friend for a long time. Sometimes, I think too long. For the love of God, you can’t be—she isn’t—that’s wrong.”
Matt folded his arms, taken aback at Nathan’s apparent anger. “Why is it any of your concern, Nathan? Weren’t you the one advising me to shag her and get it out of my system? If I recall, you wanted me to shag her, then buy her something nice and expensive.”
Nathan’s mouth hung open for a second, before he ran a hand through his blonde hair. He frowned at the table top, then said coolly, “That was before I met her, Matt. She’s charmingly delightful, and the thought of her being subjected to your—” Nathan gave him a weary gaze. “I’m saying this as your friend, but you can be something of a cad with the ladies. She’s lovely, a bit talkative and exuberant, but unlike anything I expected from someone like her.”
Matt bit back the urge to say “you mean black”, instead settling for a dry, “Nathan Walthamstow, do you have a little crush on her?”
“Piss off, you clown,” he replied. “Don’t do it, Matt. Leave the poor thing alone. Why don’t you spend some time with Jacqueline? You always enjoy her company and you know your liaisons are confidential. Hell, she’s getting married next year, yet she insists on seeing you every couple of months.”
“I don’t want Jacqueline, and I am not having this discussion with you anymore.” Matt turned his head towards the window, signalling the end of the conversation. Nathan sighed angrily, fingers drumming on the table. Ten minutes of charged silence passed between them. Nathan spun around, searching the direction she’d went. “What’s taking her so long?” he asked, impatient to be gone from this place.
“I have no idea.” Matt was annoyed with his friend. Nathan’s words had stirred up the guilt Matt felt about his planned pursuit of Madi. He was an arrogant bastard, there was no doubt about that, but he wanted her, fuck’s sake, he wanted her immensely.
“Do you think she’s bulimic?” Nathan asked, eyebrows rising.
“What? Why on earth would you think that?”
Nathan shrugged, looking over his shoulder. “She’s a dancer, they’re like models, anal about their weight. That was an extraordinarily large burger she wolfed down. She ate the whole thing. With chips.”
Matt waved Nathan’s concern away. “She’s perfectly healthy. Her body doesn’t show any—” Matt realised his mistake. The slip of tongue that had Nathan staring open-mouth at him.
“And how do you know that?” he asked sarcastically.
Matt ignored him by looking over at the bar. The pub was surprisingly nice, though the food was appalling.
“Where is she?” Nathan asked.
>>>
I had relieved my bladder, was still freaking out over my attraction to Matt, when I realized he hadn’t told me what he did. In fact, most of the conversation centred on me. Was he deliberating avoiding talking about himself? I knew he was well-to-do, but people could earn money from illegal shit. Maybe he was a drug dealer. He had that intense dangerous thing going on.
“I’m going to Google his ass,” I muttered to my reflection. The woman washing her hands next to me moved away, not bothering to dry her hands as she scampered out of the ladies.
Bradston…Brody…Bradley, that was his surname. George had called him Mr Bradley. I brought up Google on my cell and typed in Matthew Bradley. It was the third result. I felt faint, literally felt faint as I read Wikipedia. He was a fucking gazillionaire, his family fortune spanning generations. Oil tycoons that had branched out into corporate businesses all over the world. I stared at my face in the streaked mirror. What the fuck? There was information about his personal life: the socialites he’d been linked with, the models he seduced. A fucking incident in Monaco where he’d crashed his yacht. He hung out with politicians, schmoozed at charity balls where royalty was present. He was the elite of the elitist. A damn gazillionaire who I had let stick his tongue in my private parts and call me poppet. Poppet. I was certain it now meant puppet on a frigging string. Was this some sort of joke? Realization dawned, and I didn’t like the wakeup call. I was his token black fuck. That’s why he was all over me. He wanted to see what it was like to fuck a nigger bitch, then go laughing to his snobby friends about the experience. They were probably laughing at me right now. Him and Nathan. Probably laughing at the way I talked, and acted. Well, fuck him. I was not going to be the token black in this asshole’s life. I stormed out the ladies, fuming. I was supposed to be smart, street-wise. Yet, the idiotic dude, who was a decade older, had played me. Fucking poppet. I’d show him a poppet. I was so mad my hands shook. On my way back to the table some guy stopped me, asking me my name and whether he could buy me a drink. I ignored him, too busy trying to decide whether to punch Matthew Bradley in the face or knee him in the nuts.
He stood up as soon as I got to our table, grey slits of irritation trained on the dude who had stopped me.
“Are you all right, poppet? Was that lad bothering you?”
Fucking poppet.
I reached over to grab my wallet, which I’d left behind on my trip to the ladies. No, I wouldn’t beat the shit out of him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of playing into the stereotypes his kind had—black women are aggressive, ghetto. No, I would be polite and take my leave. Then dance some shit out in the studio. The way I felt right now, I could dance ’til kingdom come and still be pissed.
“Madi.”
“Don’t touch me,” I spat, jerking away from his hand on my arm. “Don’t ever touch me again, Mr Matthew Bradley. You are a disturbed man, a psychotic man who shouldn’t be allowed out in public.”
“What has gotten into you?” he asked, startled by the vehemence on my face. He glanced askance at Nathan, unsure where my anger was coming from. It was polite to clear it up for him. Yes, I would politely tell him to eat shit and die.
“Common sense,” I said coldly. “Common sense has gotten into me. I Googled you. It was weird the way you avoided my question about what you did for a living. I thought you might be a drug dealer, but the truth is a whole lot worse. You’re a gazillionaire.”
Matt’s face had visibly paled when I told him I’d Googled his ass. Ha! The gig was up.
“Madi,” he began, hand reaching out.
“You put that hand on me, and I swear to God I will kick your ass.” I couldn’t maintain my detached demeanour. “What was it, Matt? You saw me today and decided that I would be your new experiment? What? You’d missed your chance the night we met and, as luck would have it, we bumped into each other today, and you couldn’t wait to—to—I’m furious with you. Jesus. I thought you were a nice person. A frigging knight.” I had to get out of here before I started crying like a baby. “You’re a bad person, Matt. A bad man, and I will not be a token black fuck to you so you can run back to your gazillionaire friends and laugh about your walk on the dark side.”
“Stop saying those things,” he said in a controlled, empty voice.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I hissed. “I’m not some—some—bloody dog. Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve made me hate you. I don’t hate anyone—well, some people deserve to be hated on principle, like Hitler, and—” I was babbling. I shook my head and got back on point. “I despise you. You’re sick and I thank God that, after today, I will never see you again. Asshole.”
My voice had gotten a tad louder than expected, so loud that people were starting to look over at us. I had one more thing to say before I left: “Eat shit and die, you pompous, old racist.”
With those last words, I spun on my heels and stormed out the pub, furious at Matthew Bradley, at the shitty world, at myself. I was stupid. So damn stupid. Letting him flirt with me, letting him touch me. I’d told a strange white dude about myself, about my ballet company. Oh, man, I was stupid.