Lovers' Dance (55 page)

“Better now for having seen you,” she said, patting his cheek, then slipping her arm through his. “Have you come to see your father? If so, you’ll have to wait. He’s out for his morning ride.”

“Actually,” Matt allowed his mother to lead him towards one of the salons. “I came to see Grumps. Is he up and about yet?”

His mother snorted delicately. “Of course he is. The man never sleeps. It’s like having a young child again, constantly running around behind him.”

Matt arched an eyebrow at his mother but didn’t comment. She’d never run around after her own children. There was paid staff to do so.

“Have you eaten, darling? It’s only ten. I can have the chef prepare something for you.”

“I’m fine, Mum. Is Grumps in his room?”

She shook her head. “He’s in the smaller study…on the Internet. I’m sure he’s on one of those distasteful pornographic sites, Matthew.”

“Mum,” Matt exclaimed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and wishing he hadn’t heard that. “I don’t need to know what Grumps does in his private time. Christ! That’s an image I could do without.”

Portia Bradley laughed. Matt felt himself chuckling along with her. His mother could be charming when she wanted to be. She could also be as calculating as his father. No wonder they were still married, despite his father’s numerous affairs. Of course, they all acted with class and ignored his philandering. Also, his father was careful to ensure the shame of being an adulterer never tarnished his name. Hell, Matt had learnt how to be a womanizer from observing his father. Not quite the tradition a father should pass onto his son.

“Mum,” Matt said quietly. “I’d appreciate if you and Dad came over for dinner sometime soon. Madi would love to—”

“Oh, Matthew, you know how busy we are. Have you heard about Sonja’s husband? It’s been all over the news. Some shameful business about his expenses. These MP’s have had a hard time of late. They won’t be invited around here anymore. I told her years ago she shouldn’t have married that man. No breeding at all.”

Matt sighed softly at his mother’s behaviour. Her unwillingness to acknowledge his dinner invitation, plus her not so subtle change of topic, spoke volumes.

“I take it that’s a no to dinner?” Matt asked coolly.

She waved a dismissive hand through the air before saying, “We’ll see what happens, darling.”

Matt checked his irritation and flashed her a tight smile. “Fine. I’m off to find Grumps. I’ll probably be gone before Dad returns.”

“Why don’t you stay a bit longer? It feels as if we haven’t seen you for weeks. Adam stops by at least once a week, which is more than I can say for you,” she chastised.

“You know where I am, Mum. If you want to see me, call and we can arrange something.” Matt gave her cold eyes. “Like dinner, with my girlfriend.”

Her mouth tightened in distaste and Matt shook his head before walking away. He couldn’t deal with her right now.

A ride in the lift later, he knocked on his grandfather’s study. It was supposed to be a room for his nieces to use whenever they were there and needed to get their college work done, but Grumps had claimed the space as his own and no one dared complain.

“Enter.”

Matt opened the door and strode in, determination stamped across his face.

“Matthew.” Grumps beamed in obvious pleasure as Matt shut the door behind him. “How are you, my boy?”

“Fine.” Matt’s eyes wandered around the space. If he recalled correctly, when he was younger, this room had been a place you were sent to sit and ponder wrongdoings. He and Adam had spent quite a lot of time here. “And yourself?”

“I can’t complain,” Grumps said, closing the laptop screen on the desk where he sat.

Matt frowned suspiciously, replaying his mother’s words in his head. It was quite an unpleasant thought, thinking about Grumps on some seedy website, quite unpleasant indeed.

Matt sauntered across the room and pulled a chair out before collapsing into it, a casual smile on his face.

“You know the reason why I’m here, don’t you?” he asked his grandfather.

Grumps quirked his mouth, a bemused expression shifting over his lined features. “I’m not a mind reader, Matthew.”

Matt sighed. So Grumps wanted to do it the hard way. “Madi told me everything.” He bent the truth a little. Best to make Grumps believe she had confided what was said that night. That way, he’d feel no compulsion to conceal it.

Grumps arched a bushy eyebrow at him. “Did she now?”

“Yes,” Matt replied tersely. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

Grumps reclined into his high-backed leather chair, steepled hands across his chest, calculating grey eyes locked on Matt’s face as he said, “Not a damned thing. I had a brief conversation with her. If she took offence, that’s not my fault.”

Matt hid his grimace and tried to get the whole story. “Why would you say those things to her, Grumps? She was quite upset.”

“Was she? I only spoke the truth, Matthew.”

“As you see it,” Matt shot back quickly. This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. “How did you think I would feel when I found out? When you told her those things, that she—” Here he paused, a fake disappointed look on his face as he shook his head slowly.

“That she what?” Grumps asked, a gleam taking hold in his eyes. He chuckled lightly. “She hasn’t told you, has she?”

“Of course she has.” Matt went for an indignant tone. Hopefully Grumps would blurt out his transgressions.

“No,” Grumps said as a devious chuckle fell from his mouth. “She hasn’t. You can’t pull one over on me, Matthew.”

Matt glared at his grandfather. Bloody old man. As sly as always.

“I know you told her we won’t work as a couple, and I know about the rest of it, Grumps.”

Grumps laughed before saying, “I know you don’t. If you did, you would’ve graced me with your presence a lot sooner, and you would’ve been much angrier. Of course, it could be that you don’t care about Ms DuMont as much as you’d have us all believe. I assumed she would’ve gone crying to you immediately. I also assumed you would either ignore it or contact me, whichever action you chose indicative of the depth of your feelings.”

“I’m here now,” Matt said in annoyance.

“Strange,” Grumps mused to himself. “I was certain she would’ve told you everything in an attempt to wrap you further around her finger. Maybe she’s—”

“What did you say to her?” Matt exploded.

Grumps’s gaze snapped to him, a disapproving scowl on his face. “Do not forget who you are speaking to, young man. I’m the head of this family and, although you are my favourite, I expect a certain level of respect from you.”

Matt stood up abruptly. “Are you going to tell me what you said to her?”

Grumps shook his head. “If she wants to tell you she will, but it’s telling that she’s willing to keep things from you. One wonders what else she may be hiding.”

“Fine,” Matt said, his own grey eyes glinting dangerously. “I didn’t want to do this Grumps, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Grumps exhaled loudly and scoffed. “Do what?”

“Either tell me what you said to Madi or you’ll suffer the consequences of meddling in my business.”

“Do your worst, Matthew. I’m looking forward to what you have planned. I’m running out of things to do to fill my time, and Portia is always lurking around me. I swear your father didn’t have a grain of sense in his head when he married her.”

Matt ignored Grumps’s dig at his mother. The relationship between the two of them had been strained since before his birth.

“Right, then,” Matt said decisively. “I’m going downstairs to have a chat with Mum, and convince her to take an extended holiday with Dad. Maybe a few months somewhere warm. You do know what will happen then, don’t you Grumps?”

Grumps narrowed his eyes at Matt. “You wouldn’t.”

Matt continued, a smile slowly growing across his face. “Hannah will take good care of you while they’re gone. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll adjust to living with her and Stuart for a temporary period of time—”

“You wouldn’t.”

“The girls will be excited.” Matt arched an eyebrow at his grandfather, who looked like he’d swallowed something bad. “Natalia and Nicole will probably spend all their time fussing over you. They never stop talking. Ha, imagine when they have their friends over—”

“You treacherous bastard,” Grumps said. “How can you joke about something like that? I’m an old, feeble man.”

“Feeble, my arse,” Matt said dryly, grinning at his grandfather. He would talk now. The threat of being around Terror and Trouble for any length of time was enough to make the hardiest of Bradley men quake.

Grumps scowled fiercely at him for a full minute before his own face cracked into a smile. “I see you haven’t forgotten everything I taught you.”

“Strike where you know your enemy is at their weakest?” Matt drawled without remorse. “No, Grumps, I haven’t forgotten. Now, please. What did you say to her? She was upset.”

Grumps sighed loudly and avoided Matt’s penetrating gaze. “I did it for your own good, Matthew. You know I love you dearly.”

Matt was touched at his grandfather’s words. William Bradley, Sr was not an affectionate man. Growing up with a man like him as your grandfather meant you were taught that displays of emotion were the greatest folly. A stiff upper lip at all times, anything else was a sign of weakness. He had taught that behaviour to his son, who had, in turn, taught it to Matt and his siblings.

“I know,” Matt replied sombrely as he took his seat once more.

Grumps sighed again. “Don’t get too angry with me, Matty.”

Matt’s eyes widened. He could count on one hand the number of times his grandfather had used his childhood nickname. Fucking hell.
What had the old man done?

Twenty minutes later, Matt’s head was in his hands while an awkward silence filled the room. He raised his head slowly, eyes flashing with barely restrained rage. No wonder his sweet poppet had kept it secret. It was humiliating and past hurtful the things his grandfather had admitted to saying to her.

“You. Will. Apologize,” he grated out coldly as he stood and towered above the man who had played such a vital role in shaping him into the success he was today. “You will beg her to forgive you.”

“Matthew.”

“No,” he said in a hard, frigid voice. “How dare you say those things to her? How dare you belittle her in such a manner? I bloody love her, more than anything in this goddamned world and you have the nerve to humiliate her like that?”

“Matthew—”

“I swear,” Matt said coldly. “I will never speak to you again unless she forgives you. Do you understand me, Grumps? I am going to walk out this room and you won’t see or hear from me again until she has forgiven you.”

“Now look here,” Grumps began to splutter, His skin pale from shock at Matt’s outburst.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses.” Matt held a hand up in disgust. He had a moment of pity for the look on Grumps’s face. They had a special bond, and Matt had never railed at him like this before. But that pity disappeared when Matt thought of Madison being subjected to what his grandfather had put her through. Grumps had virtually called her a gold-digging slut, and Matt would not tolerate it. The manipulative bastard had even discussed babies.

He lowered his voice further. “She loves me, and I love her. I don’t care if you approve or not. This is my life, and she’s going to be in it.”

Grumps swallowed hard, a pained expression on his face. “I had no idea you felt so…quite that…I had no idea, Matthew.”

“Now you do.” Matt turned on his heels and headed for the door. He paused when he opened it, saying over his shoulder, “I meant what I said, Grumps. You’d better fix this.”

Matt shut the door and took a few deep breaths to calm down. God. His family was fucked up. Unable to cool the burning anger coursing through him, he strode to the lift. He needed to get the hell out of here before he did something foolish.

“Matthew—”

He heard his mother’s voice calling as he hurried down one of the hallways that would take him to the front doors.

“Goodbye, Mum.” Matt didn’t stop. He stalked out of the mansion and got in his car, the screech of his tires as he sped out of there indicative of how he felt. If they were unwilling to accept her, then it was their problem. Madison DuMont was going to be his wife, regardless of who disagreed with it.

SIXTEEN

I WAS COUNTING down the days to my birthday. October 13th. At least it was on a Monday this year, and not a Friday. Being born on the thirteenth of any month sucked. You knew people were going to think you were the unluckiest person around whenever Black Friday came up.

Three days to go, not counting tonight. I sighed, gingerly bandaging my toes as I sat on the toilet and ignored the flashing light and vibration of my cell. I was a crap girlfriend. The past three weeks, Matt and I had been out on dates. No frigging sex. Honestly. Didn’t he know how hard it was for me? Matt was hot stuff, vanilla ecstasy, swirl-a-fucking-licious, finger-licking good. All I’d gotten at the end of each date when he walked me to my front door was a chaste peck on the lips and a sexy wink. Huh. Proper meanie he was.

Sex was the last thing on my mind now though. I wriggled my toes, stood up and took a few steps. The house phone started ringing and I sighed loudly, leaving the answering machine to pick up the call as I grabbed my cell and walked out of my bathroom.

I paused halfway down the stairs, catching the tail-end of the message.

“—issing you, poppet. Call me when you get this message.”

I’d been hoping Matt would be away on business, no such luck. It didn’t seem to matter if my birthday wasn’t Black Friday, I couldn’t catch a break.

Marie-Sol and Bret were flying in tonight, early morning really. Dante was coming over in an hour to accompany me on the drive to Heathrow. The Cayenne was now my new baby, and I was begrudgingly glad it had more than enough space to hold their suitcases and their persons. My Beetle had been sent to that oh-so-sad place where unfixable cars went.

I pottered about my terrace, tidying up any remaining mess, and generally not knowing what to do with myself. I was seated in my kitchen sipping coffee when my cell vibrated across the table. I sighed and picked it up.

“Hey, hon.”

“Poppet.” Matt breathed out in relief. “I’ve been trying to contact you all day.”

“I know. Sorry, things have been busy at the studio. Are you in your office?” I glanced at the digital clock on my stove. Nine fifteen pm. I knew the answer before he confirmed it.

“Unfortunately, yes. Listen, I’m planning on stopping by tonight. I should be out of here in the next thirty minutes, and I want to discuss what I have in store for your birthday.”

I stiffened on my seat. Darn it. Matt didn’t seem to pick up on my hints, or maybe he was ignoring them. He ignored things if they were contrary to his wants, totally understandable as he always got his way in the end.

Not this time though.

“I’m out tonight, Matt.”

There was a short pause. “I see. Where exactly will you be out tonight, poppet? I’m certain we didn’t have a date arranged, so I’m at a loss as to where you’re going and with whom.”

“I do have a life that doesn’t revolve around you,” I said dryly. Of late, that wasn’t the reality of my situation. My whole damned life seem to revolve around Matthew Bradley. We’d been on seven dates over the past three weeks. Four of those dates had been hijacked by the stupid paparazzi. How on earth they knew where we were? Neither Matt nor I could figure it out. All I knew was, on those four occasions when we left wherever we were, there would be the blinding flash of lights and questions about our romance being hurled in our direction as Matt hustled me into his car. I didn’t know how he lived his life being hounded by the media. I was undecided on how to feel about it intruding in my life.

“Whatever you say, poppet. Where are you going?”

“Heathrow Airport.”

Another pause, this one a bit longer. “May I ask why you’re going to Heathrow?”

“You may ask, but I can’t promise to answer.”

“You can’t sing and you’re not funny, poppet,” Matt crooned down the line. I smiled to myself as he asked why again.

“A couple of my friends are flying in. Didn’t I mention it to you before? I’m sure I did.” I hadn’t.

“It must have slipped your mind,” Matt replied with an undertone of something in his voice. He knew I hadn’t mentioned it before, but he was letting it go.
Will wonders never cease?

“Yeah, totally slipped my mind,” I drawled. “It’s going to be a manic weekend for me. Did I mention they were staying at mine?”

Matt exhaled down the line. “I don’t see how you could when you forgot to mention they were coming, Madison.”

Complete first name…someone was getting irritated. Maybe if I caused a major fight that would last for a week…yes, yes. Why didn’t I think of this before? Because my levels of bat-shit craziness had been on a steady decline the more time I spent with Matt. He was having an almost calming effect on me. Time to get my levels back up. Normal women didn’t do this, did they? Pick a fight with their honey-bears in order to avoid seeing them around their birthdays?
Maybe they did.

“Matt, you’re smothering me.” My tone was sharp, but my face twisted with guilt. Please let this be one of my ‘good’ bad ideas.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Smothering, you know, overwhelming someone with too much affection with the effect that said person feels restricted.”

“Okay,” he said after a few charged seconds. “What is wrong with you? I know it’s not your time of month. That was last week. Did you have a horrible day at the studio? Have you perhaps lost your bloody mind?”

Aahh. My ‘good’ bad plan seemed to be taking off here. Oh God. I was going to regret this shit.

“No to all those questions, Matt. You can get a bit much sometimes. ‘Where are you, poppet? Why haven’t you answered your phone, poppet? I want to see you, poppet. Do this, poppet. Do that, poppet.’ It’s like having a parole officer when I haven’t committed a crime. And my picture was in the papers yet again today. The photographer made my ass look big, Matt. I need some time to myself—”

“Time to yourself?” he asked quietly. Why wasn’t he yelling at me? He should be fuming. Matt continued in a calm voice, “But aren’t your friends staying with you?”

“Well, yeah.” I tried to think of something else I could say to annoy my knight. “But they’re my friends. They’re an extension of myself, so they don’t count.”

“I’m smothering you?” he asked. “I want to be clear on this, Madison.”

“Uh hmm,” I mumbled, feeling like the biggest bitch alive.

“Poppet,” Matt’s voice was gentle and I got nervous. He did not sound like a man who’d basically been told by his girlfriend to get lost. “Why are you trying to pick a fight with me? Is there a particular reason you don’t want me around at this time? Talk to me.”

“How do you do that?” I jumped to my feet and began to pace the length of my small kitchen. “Are you part Vulcan? Have you done some weird mind-meld on me? Because it’s like you always know what I’m thinking.”

His side of the line was silent.

I took a few deep breaths before apologizing. It was a ‘bad’ bad idea, a stupid one. “I’m sorry, Matt. It’s—I’m not—now isn’t—” I sighed loudly, unable to construct a proper sentence. My chest felt tight with emotion and my eyes felt dry and itchy, the dry itchiness you get right before you burst into tears.

“Madi, whatever it is, we can sort it,” he said with quiet confidence and my stupid eyes started tearing up. I wanted his anger, not his sweet caring.

I cradled my cell to my ear and leaned against the cabinets. “No, we can’t, Matt. I get real messy around this time, and I don’t want you seeing me like that. Please understand. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, but the next few days are going to be bad. I’m talking sewerage plant explosion bad.”

He chuckled softly down the line at my analogy and I smiled a little, just a little.

“Shit raining from the heavens kind of thing?” he teased tenderly, and I smiled more than a little.

“Yes, exactly.” I flexed my right foot a few times. “If you see me like that, well, let’s just say the next thing I’ll hear from you is: ‘Don’t call me, I’ll call you.’”

“What time are your friends arriving at Heathrow?” Matt asked suddenly.

The unexpected change of topic left my head spinning, and I answered automatically, “Two am. Why?”

“If I leave now, I can get to yours in well under an hour and accompany you to the airport. I don’t like the idea of you on the roads at that time,” he explained.

“Dante’s coming over,” I blurted out. “He’s going with me to the airport.”

Matt’s side went silent again, then he said, “That’s fine, poppet. I’m still going to pop over tonight, though.”

“Matt, please. You don’t have to come over. I’ll be fine, I just need to do my thing for the next few days, then everything will be back to normal. Don’t worry about me.”

“But I do, poppet.”

“I’m a big girl, Matt.”

“You’re not a girl,” he continued in that gentle tone of his. “You’re my woman and you’re tiny.”

“Ballerina size,” I corrected.

“Pint size,” he joked and I grinned. He was good at making me smile.

“Be that as it may, my lovely knight,” I replied softly. “I need to handle this in my own way. Please understand.”

Matt sighed down the phone. “All right, poppet.”

“Thank you for understanding.” I wandered back to the seat I’d vacated and plopped down.

“As long as you don’t make a habit of shutting me out, poppet. This is going to wreak havoc with my plans,” he said.

That made me curious and a bit alarmed. “What were you planning? Something totally over the top? You haven’t bought me anything stupid, have you? Like a jet or other expensive crap?”

Matt chuckled, his sexy chuckle that seemed to caress my senses. “No, Madi. I was planning a surprise dinner party for you. I thought it would be nice for you to meet my main group of friends.”

Thank goodness I didn’t have to do that shit. Meet more of Matt’s friends? I could barely handle Nathan’s silent disapproval. Matt’s friends would probably be like Nathan, up their own asses and secretly judging me. How Nathan had ended up with someone as sweet as Bella was mind boggling.

“That’s a nice thought,” I murmured, hoping I sounded genuine. “Maybe I could meet them another time.”

When I’m not drunk off my ass and wailing like a banshee.

“Of course, poppet.” Matt paused and I could hear the shuffling of papers. He worked hard, all the time. “When will I be able to see you?”

I thought about it for a few seconds. The fifteenth was the anniversary of my parents’ deaths. Wednesday. Middle of the week. Meltdown day. “Next Friday.”

“Poppet,” Matt’s tone conveyed how much he didn’t like the sound of that.

“It’s a week, Matt.” I let out a hollow laugh. “Honestly, anyone would think you can’t live without me.”

“I can’t,” Matt replied staunchly. “Live without you, that is.”

The air caught in my throat at his words. He was a guarded man, aloof and private.

But never with me. Matt was so open about his feelings it put me to shame. I was trying my best to follow his lead. It was hard, hard to stop hiding behind my walls, to let him in completely.

To trust the way he felt about me was true and not some dream fabricated by my mind. He had to love me. Why else would he act this way? I needed to buy one of those relationship books…just to be sure.

“Matt.” I took a deep breath and tried to quell the voice in my head shouting warnings at me. “I can’t live without you, either.” It was nothing more than a whisper, so quiet I wasn’t sure he heard me.

Until he said, “Good, about bloody time you admitted it.”

I laughed and he laughed with me.

“Friday?” he asked. “That’s a long time away, poppet.”

“A week, Matt. Absence makes the heart—”

“Grow fonder,” he finished my sentence. “All right, Friday it is, but I will be calling you every single day.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less of you.”

“Poppet.” His voice had changed, almost apprehensive. “I know you haven’t spoken about your parents—”

“Don’t.” I cut him off quickly. “It’s fine, I’m fine.”

“If you were, then you wouldn’t be banishing me from your presence until next Friday,” he argued gently. “Look, hear me out for a minute.” Matt took a deep breath, then continued. “I won’t profess to know how you feel about the anniversary of their deaths.” He paused, when I unconsciously let out a wounded sound, but persevered. “I can’t even begin to understand what you’re going through right now, poppet. I want you to know I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’ll make sure you have it. A shoulder to cry on, a nice cuddle, new shoes, whatever it is you need, poppet.”

I gulped silently. Amazing. Matthew Bradley was a-fucking-mazing. “I love you, Matt.”

“And I you, Madi. Call me when you get back from the airport. I need to know you’ve gotten home safe.”

I hung up after agreeing to call him on my return and more mushy declaration of our emotional attachment. The two of us could form a mutual appreciation club. Members: two. Subscription: lifelong, or as long as we lasted. I could picture a grey-haired Matt bossing me around on some Zimmer frames, while checking out my flabby, wrinkly butt. Nice…unless he turned into his Grumps as he got older. A shudder went through me, thinking of the old man. About a week after my vague confession to Matt concerning the exchange I had with his grandfather, Matt had asked me what exactly had been said. I still hadn’t told him the verbal bullets Grumps had pumped into me, yet I had a niggling sense of unease he somehow knew…which was an impossibility. I couldn’t shake the feeling though that he did know and was testing me, testing my honesty, my willingness to keep things from him. Man, I was paranoid. It didn’t help he was part Vulcan. It was the only explanation behind his ability to read me so easily.