Page 139 of Lovers' Dance

Boat ride on the Thames at night? I could live with the lack of sleep. I beamed like a kid who found out Santa was their long-lost great-uncle, and he was coming for a visit with his sack of toys.

“It’s safe to assume from your expression that you’re okay with that,” Matt said dryly.

I nodded. This was going to be a great date as long as I didn’t get injured on the boat, and Matt wasn’t planning on selling me to the highest bidder at this secret auction.

To hell with Grumps and his five C’s personality. I was riding the Matt train for as long as my ticket allowed...

“This is cool, Matt,” I whispered as he gripped my waist to ensure I didn’t fall in my heels. I could’ve mentioned that I was a ballerina, balance was my business, but it was nice having him hold me close.

“Why are you whispering, poppet?” Matt asked as we followed Nathan and Bella down the stairs.

“Because…I don’t know. It’s all Bond-like.”

Matt shook his head as we made our way down. He had made only one request of me on arrival: that I keep the location secret. I promised I would, feeling like a spy. All I needed was a change of clothes…mmm, leather, perhaps. And hidden weapons. Madison DuMont, secret agent extraordinaire.

“It’s like we work for the CIA or MI5,” I continued in a hushed voice. “Can you imagine meeting here for secret missions? I wonder if this area was ever used for something like that. Is it MI5 or MI6?”

Matt shook his head again and tightened his grip on my waist. “Doubtful, poppet, and MI5 deals with protecting the UK, its citizens and interests at home or oversees against threats to national security, while MI6 gathers intelligence outside the UK in support of the government’s security, defence and foreign and economic policies. Trust me, there have been no secret meetings down here.”

“How do you know?” I scoffed.

Matt smiled at me. “Because I have connections. Be careful on the last few steps, please.”

I paused in my descent, eyeing him suspiciously. An image of my mantle clock flashed before my eyes—an image of a surveillance camera hidden inside it.

“What do you mean?” One hand on my hip. “You have connections? What sort of connections?”

He chuckled and tugged me lightly. “I can’t talk about it, and I can’t tell you why,” he responded, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Idiot. But I eyed him with slight caution as we took the last few steps down.

“For a man of your age, you are full of shit, Matt,” I finally said, then fell silent as my eyes wandered around the disused tube station in awe. I’d been to Aldwych Underground Station once, a branch of the Piccadilly Line. It was a great tourist spot, although not open most of the time. This particular secret, disused station had been remodelled. How on earth had they done this without people knowing about it? What about building permits? Didn’t TfL own all of London’s underground travel systems? I mean, we travellers paid for around ninety percent of their operational expenditures, damned expensive Travelcards and Oyster. Had they sold this area to some wealthy eccentric? Made a quick buck while us average Joes got a teeth-grinding increase in fares every year? Damn it. I was going to boycott the Underground.

Money. You can do anything if you have enough money.

“Poppet?” Matt leaned down, a concerned look on his face. “What’s wrong? Why are you scowling?”

I smoothed my face into a pleasant mask and shrugged as I observed numerous well-dressed people socializing, laughing, drinking.

“I’m fine, hon,” I murmured as he was spotted by a small group of people who immediately started in our direction. “This is something. Really something.”

He beamed at me. “I’m glad you like it, poppet. We hold these auctions every few months—”

“Is it illegal?” I interrupted. What happened to Sotheby’s? Or Christies? And Bonham’s? Or the other top auction houses where people with too much money purchased ridiculously expensive things you’d normally find in museums? Why were we under the streets of London in an architecturally redone disused tube station? Oh God.

“Matt, I swear if you auction me off, I’ll kick you in the balls.” My crazy assumption didn’t seem that crazy now.

Matt burst out in laughter, so loud quite a few heads swivelled around to check out what the fuss was about.

“You’re insane,” he managed to wheeze out, face red and eyes watering a bit. “Oh, sweetheart, you do make me laugh. Everything is above board, just a small gathering of like-minded people who wish to add to their private collections.”

The group of people were almost upon us. Nathan and Bella were exchanging handshakes and air kisses with them.

“Just so you know,” I whispered self-righteously. “If I see stolen artwork, I’m reporting it. There’s a register, you know, you can check these things. I was raised to do the right thing. I don’t want to turn you and your rich friends in, but I will.”

My warning didn’t have the effect I was hoping for. Matt’s gaze softened and he reached up to tuck one of my curls tenderly behind my ear. He saw the group approaching us and he leaned in to whisper, “You’re crazy, poppet, and I love every single thing about you. Even the fact you’re willing to give me up to the police.”

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