Authors: K Carr
Matt was trying his best to pay close attention to what Ryan Turner was saying to him, but it was bloody hard to concentrate at the moment. Bloody Louisa and her wandering hand. If she touched his cock again he’d explode, in more ways than one. It didn’t help that Madi kept squinting at their side of the table, as if she somehow sensed his sexual torment. Matt sorely regretted coming to dinner tonight, and he vowed to make it up to his poppet. The twins were the only ones actively conversing with her, but that was to be expected. Madi was the closest to them age-wise and, without her make-up, she could easily pass for someone in their late teens. He’d caught her sending friendly looks up the table where his parents sat. He had yet to see them return one and, every time they ignored her smiles, her lovely brown eyes would reflect a touch of sad rejection. It infuriated him and pained him at the same moment. How could anyone not instantly be charmed by her infectious laughter and vivacious personality? How could anyone not fall completely in love with her sweet nature? Matt rubbed a hand across his mouth, hiding an amused smirk. Yes, she was sweet, but there was a feisty streak in her. The way she had spoken to his grandfather was shocking, and deserved. Matt felt growing pride at the way she was handling tonight. That pride turned to annoyance as her attempts to converse with Julia Rogarth and her husband were rebuked.
“What do you think, Madi?” Matt asked, trying to draw her into the conversation he was having with Ryan.
She bit her lower lip, then glanced at Ryan before saying, “I believe the general public feels worried, and rightly so, about the thought of the EU having a say in British law. It doesn’t help that both the conservative and labour parties have over the years caused a lot of resentment within communities about the issue of immigration. In people’s minds, the EU is another foreign body trying to muscle in on the British way of life and, in any instance where a person feels threatened, they are forced to react.”
“Exactly,” Ryan agreed, with a nod of his greying head. “We are a member of the EU and that brings many benefits, but we must be careful on the issue of our sovereignty. In recent polling, the public is more or less split down the middle on the issue of the UK leaving the EU.”
“If the Prime Minister is successful in renegotiating treaty changes before the proposed referendum in 2016—”
“Twenty-seventeen, poppet,” Matt corrected, and she grinned at him with a little shake of her curls.
“Thank you, Matt,” she said, then resumed talking to Ryan. “If the Prime Minister wins the next election and is able to renegotiate positive treaty changes for the UK ahead of his 2017 proposed referendum, then I believe the public would be less opposed to leaving the EU.”
“Who do you support? A conservative government or one run by labour?” Louisa drawled, addressing Madi for the first time that night. Matt looked at his ex, a clear warning on his face for her to behave.
Madi gave her a tight smile. “I support whichever government puts the needs of the public above their own ulterior motives. I was raised in a democratic household, and we hold true to the belief that the needs of the many should always outweigh the needs of the one. Some political parties are more focused on retaining a country’s wealth for a few, instead of working towards an even distribution of resources and wealth for the general population.”
Louisa let out an amused chuckle and Matt stiffened, not just because he could hear the derision in her laugh, but also due to her hand finding its way to his semi-hard cock. Unwilling to draw attention to her movements, he gritted his teeth and took a sip from his wine glass. As soon as Madi looked away, he would deal with the hand that was slowly caressing him through his pants.
“I can see you’re an idealist,” Louisa mused. “Things don’t function that way in the real world. There will always be haves and haves-not. Ask Matt.” She twisted her head to smile at him, a devilish glint appearing in her eyes as she squeezed him under the table and his traitorous body responded. She continued to speak to Madi. “Like everyone else around this table, our families have worked hard to amass our fortunes. Why should those with wealth then have to carry the brunt of the general population’s inability to care for themselves? Why should we be penalized through unfair taxation on our personal and corporate wealth? The fault does not rest with us that most people are too lazy or reluctant to get the necessary education to take advantage of the opportunities that are out there.”
Matt tried not to respond to her determined strokes, but bloody hell, he was male and there was a hand on his cock. What was he to do? His poppet was staring at Louisa, then her gaze slid down Louisa’s bare arm which disappeared under the table. Matt felt pure alarm thunder through him as Madi’s doe eyes finally rested on his face. He had never seen such a look from her before.
Bollocks
. She couldn’t possibly know what was happening under the tablecloth. Matt took in a ragged breath and twisted in his chair. Louisa didn’t let up on her grip.
“Has everyone here forgotten the cardinal rule?” Natty suddenly burst out sharply. “There are two topics one shouldn’t discuss at social gatherings: religion and politics. I’m so bored of this.”
Matt forgot about the hand on his cock as his niece stood up abruptly. All eyes were upon her and she looked like she wanted to cry. Matt saw her hand clenched tightly around her mobile. It was shaking.
“Natalia,” Hannah called from where she sat. “Sit down.”
Natty’s face twisted in anger, while Nikki tugged on her arm. Matt wondered what had gotten into her. Hannah had made a passing comment earlier about Natty’s behaviour, but this outburst of hers was unacceptable. Madi also reached out, a flash of concern on her face as she touched Natty’s hand lightly.
“May I be excused?” Natty asked in a tight voice. Matt was sure she was about to cry and he felt great relief that he didn’t have to deal with whatever teenaged angst she was experiencing. Thank God he wasn’t a father yet. On the heels of that thought came another, one that shocked him. What would Madi look like pregnant? With his child growing inside her?
Bloody hell. Had he lost his goddamned mind? Yes, he loved her, but they had only been in a relationship for a few months. Although his father felt strongly that Matt should have married and had children by now, Matt felt absolutely no compulsion to do so. Plus, Madi was young in his eyes, not to mention the unavoidable race issue. He didn’t want to get married, far less impregnate anyone. These ridiculous thoughts were only due to him being around his family again, knowing and thoroughly resenting the expectations they had of him.
Yet, here he was, staring at her with increasing curiosity, as he pictured her slender frame rounded out in front. Beautiful. She would be more beautiful than she was now. And their baby would be gorgeous—
“Fuck me,” Matt muttered softly.
“I will,” Louisa whispered in his ear, rubbing her hand over him and bringing him back to blessed reality. Everyone else was busy focusing on Natalia’s outburst and Matt took the opportunity to yank Louisa’s hand off his person.
“Stop it,” he grated out coldly, before turning away from her pouting lips.
Hannah and Stuart were sending murderous looks at their daughter, while the other guests murmured amongst themselves. Matt’s father tilted his head at Grumps, who nodded once.
“You may be excused, Natalia,” William, Jr, announced.
Natty pushed her chair back and fled the dining room, with her twin sister immediately getting up to race after her. An uncomfortable atmosphere descended and Matt saw the chance to escape. He stood up, clearing his throat loudly and motioned to Madi.
“Madi and I will be heading out, too. We both have a busy day tomorrow, and I need to get her home.”
A chorus of insincere requests for them to stay assailed his ears as Matt waited for Madi to stand up. She did so quickly, dumping the napkin from her lap on top of the table. Her eyes scanned everyone as she flashed her perfect white teeth in a half-hearted smile.
“It was a lovely dinner. Thank you for inviting me,” she said politely, before hurrying over to his side. He took her hand in his and inclined his head at his grandfather, who raised his hand in an acknowledged goodbye. Matt walked down the length of the table to where his parents sat, with Madi in tow. He bent forward to kiss his mother on the cheek and clapped his free hand on his father’s back.
“I’ll be calling you. Soon,” he advised casually. They hadn’t made any attempts to engage Madi in conversation. They had practically ignored her all night long. They were taking the piss and, although he’d expected this sort of behaviour from them, it annoyed him immensely.
“Thanks for inviting me to dinner and sorry we can’t stay,” Madi repeated to his parents.
“Don’t worry,” Matt said, sneakily watching for his parents’ reaction. “We’ll have my parents around for dinner next week, Madi. Give you three a chance to get to know each other properly.”
Their expressions made Matt laugh on the inside, including Madi’s. She looked as appalled as his mother. Matt tightened his hand around hers.
“Mum, Dad.”
“Goodnight, Matthew. Drive safe, darling, and call us tomorrow,” his mother said.
“Goodnight, son. Remember we need to go over those contracts. I want you and Adam in the office at six on Monday.”
Madi smiled at them, but Matt could see the silent plea on her face. She wanted to go; he did, too. He led her out the dining room and her shoulders relaxed as she sighed in relief.
“Well?” he said as they walked hand in hand down the numerous hallways.
“Well what?” she shot back. “I hope Natty is all right.”
Matt huffed slightly. He wanted to know her thoughts on meeting his strange family. “I’m sure she’ll be fine, poppet. How do you feel about my family now that you’ve met them? I told you everyone would be polite. No one made any inference to your race, either. So? Tell me.”
The front doors loomed and Matt hurried her along.
“Matt, what about my wet clothes? And my shoes?”
“I’ll have them sent over to mine tomorrow. Stop avoiding my question and tell me what you think about my family,” he demanded as they got to the front door. Matt opened it and she slipped past him, eager it seemed to be gone from here.
“Answer a question first, then I’ll tell you,” she negotiated.
Matt arched an eyebrow at her before nodding. He pulled his keys out his jacket pocket and pressed the fob to unlock the car.
Madi folded her arms as he opened the door for her. Matt was suddenly wary. He definitely didn’t like the look on his poppet’s face, or the dangerous gleam shining from her brown eyes.
“What the fuck was going on underneath the table, Matthew?”
Bollocks…
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.