Page 166 of Lovers' Dance

“Stop telling me what I can and cannot do. You—you mutated giant. Give me that bottle.”

If Nathan hadn’t been irritated at their behaviour, he would have laughed at the sight of Madi’s determined attempts to get the bottle that Matt was not relinquishing. This had to stop.

“Bloody hell, Matt. Give her the damn bottle already,” Nathan grated out coldly. “It’s her birthday and she can drink if she wants to. We got up to a lot worse at her age.”

Madi glared at Matt and yanked her hands free before smacking one against his chest. “Hypocrite.”

Matt sent Nathan an evil glower before he turned back to Madi. “Grow the hell up, Madison. Act your age, not your bloody shoe size.”

Nathan saw the flash of hurt across her face, and his annoyance increased at his friend. “Matthew. Leave the poor girl alone. She’s right. You are a hypocrite. And a mean bastard, too.” Nathan beckoned to Madi, lowering his voice to a gentler tone. “Why don’t you go on downstairs, Madison? I think Bella wants to speak to you.”

Matt turned his angry gaze back to Nathan. “Get the hell out of here, Nathan, and stop meddling in my business. Madi and I are having a discussion that doesn’t concern you. Now leave.”

Nathan ignored Matt and smiled at Madi. “Go on. I’ll sort this.” He didn’t know why, but his pride had been pricked earlier on at the restaurant. Madi obviously felt more at ease with Bella than him. The fact an invitation had been extended to his fiancée and not him spoke volumes. Did she not like him? Everyone liked him, he was Nathan Walthamstow. He found her to be charming, a tad over-exuberant and feisty, but generally a lovely, young woman. Why did she not feel friendly overtures towards him? Nathan inhaled sharply, realizing that he was about to fall under the spell she seemed to have woven around those that met her. What was it with Madison DuMont?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and beckoned to her again. With an uncertain face, she gave up on trying to reclaim her whiskey and slowly moved towards him.

“Where do you think you’re going, Madison?” Matt bellowed. “We’re not finished talking.”

“Stop shouting at her,” Nathan said.

Matt looked at him in surprise. Then, cold fury filled his face as he said, “Mind your own bloody business, Nathan, and leave me to mine.”

Nathan saw Madi hesitate, glancing back at Matt to gauge his reaction. Nathan strode over to her and touched her arm lightly. “Bella’s waiting and your friend Marie-Sol mentioned something about food ten minutes ago.”

“Damn,” she muttered, eyes widening. “I forgot about that.”

“Madison,” Matt growled as she hurried to the door. “We’re not finished.”

She exhaled noisily and showed him her expressive middle finger. “Eat shit, Matthew. It’s my birthday today.”

The door slammed shut behind her and Matt glared fiercely at Nathan, who returned his look with one of reproach.

“What is your problem, Matt?” Nathan started in on him. Better to be on the offensive than defensive with Matt. That way you had a better chance of winning. “Carrying on like this. Shouting at Madison—”

“It doesn’t concern you, Nathan,” he replied frigidly.

Nathan scoffed as he let his eyes wander around the bedroom. There were items of Madison’s career strewn throughout the room. Ballet shoes hanging of the back of the chair, in the corner close to the window, and peeking out from under the bed. Leotards over one open door of the wardrobe, tights on its handle. He saw bits of Matt, too, in the room. The aftershave he used on the dresser, a few suits hanging in the wardrobe.

“You’re being an arse. A hypocritical one at that. So what if she’s had a bit to drink and funny brownies? That’s nothing in comparison to what we’ve done. Oh, don’t give me that look. I was right next to you doing blow in Denmark.”

“That was years ago. I was younger and foolish then,” Matt groused, cheeks tinged pink with barely restrained anger and embarrassment.

“Last time we partied like that, we were thirty, mate. That’s older than she is. Why are your knickers in a twist? Let her live a little.”

Matt narrowed his eyes at him. “Have you been in those brownies? Because it seems to me your brain is addled at the moment.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m perfectly fine,” Nathan said, in an attempt to maintain control of the conversation.

Matt peered at him. “You’ve had one, haven’t you?”

Nathan shrugged nonchalantly as he avoided Matt’s knowing gaze. “It would be rude not to indulge in the treats laid out by our hostess. Bella wanted me to try—look, that’s beside the point. Why are you behaving like this? It’s unbecoming of you. It’s her birthday and you’ve upset her, and everyone else, let me add. Plus, you’ve left me downstairs with her friends. There’s only so much Americanisms I can take, Matt. That Bret fellow can’t seem to grasp the offside rule. It’s irritating having to explain it over and over.”

Matt sent him another glare, arms folded stiffly across his chest.

Nathan rubbed his temples for a moment. “Her friends seem to think it’s better for her to be angry, mentioned something along the lines that if she’s arguing with you then she wouldn’t be crying. Is that because of her parents’ death? If I remember correctly, that’s around now, isn’t it?”

A range of emotions flew across Matt’s face, finally settling on shameful resignation, and Nathan knew he’d touched a nerve.

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