Page 195 of Lovers' Dance

“That should have been returned. Do you even check these accounts of yours?”

“I will be doing so shortly,” he said in anger. Dr Brown was expensive, and Madi was seeing her twice a week outside normal working hours. It was a few weeks since he’d staged his version of an intervention. He hadn’t expected her to pay for it. This was his way of fixing her.

“You decided for me, Matt. I know you did it because you love me. I love you too.” She looked away from the screen for a moment before swivelling sad eyes back at him. “That’s why I agreed to go along with it, because you were right. I do need help addressing my grief, but you’re like Aunt Cleo in a way.”

Matt’s mouth fell open. What? She had compared him to that aunt of hers?

“You guilt me into things I’m not comfortable with, and I go along with it because I love you. Look, it’s late, and we both have busy days tomorrow. I think it’s wrong that I can’t have an innocent meal with someone who wants to be my friend, but I’ll respect your wishes. Something you rarely do with mine. Try and get some sleep, you look tired. I miss you and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Poppet,” he said, but she ended the video chat before he could say anymore. How the hell had she turned the tables on him? He’d called to warn her about letting McGregor weasel his way into her life and they’d ended up talking about his behaviour? Matt rubbed his chin slowly. He was tired, hungry and tired. Now he was irritated. With a low grumble he began to eat, mechanically chewing the sumptuous food that seemed tasteless somehow as he dwelled on their brief conversation.

Madison DuMont was driving him to the brink of insanity. Matt paused, fork held aloft, wondering if he had been wrong to use the future of their relationship to blackmail her into therapy. He shoved those thoughts away. He had done what was needed and the end justified the means. He would not feel guilty over it.

“Mr Bradley, would you like more tea?” The tall, leggy blonde in her form-hugging business suit leaned over him, flashing more than was necessary of her cleavage. She was his temporary secretary while on business. Rachel, his usually dependable Rachel, had been unable to come on this trip. Her father had taken a turn for the worse, and she had gone home to Manchester to be with her family.

Matt barely glanced at the woman, her soft Dutch accent laced with the subtle ‘come hither’ vibes. If she was offering something other than tea, she was talking to the wrong man.

Nathan raised his head from the paperwork in front of him and arched an eyebrow at Matt.

“Yes, please, Sanne,” he said. “And bring us the glide charts of the projected profit figures from the North American subsidiaries, also.”

“Of course, Mr Bradley,” she cooed, pouring him a fresh cup of tea. She turned that bright smile in Nathan’s direction. “Mr Walthamstow, would you like more tea also?”

Nathan nodded and was also subjected to a flash of creamy cleavage. Then she hurried out the room to get the required information.

They spent the rest of the day behind closed doors, having one meeting after another. Some relaxed, others humming with the tension expected from seating a bunch of powerful businessmen around one table who sought to further their interests.

Around eight pm, Nathan stretched his frame in the chair and asked, “Shall we have a spot of dinner when we get back to the hotel or have Sanne order us something, Matt? I’m starving.”

Matt ran a hand over his weary face. He could do with something to eat, and call Madison. It was Friday and he wanted to return to England immediately, but they were scheduled to remain in the Netherlands until the coming Monday. It had already been seven long days since he’d been away, and there were three days left before he could get home.

“We should call it a night, Nathan.”

Nathan gave him a look of mock horror. “What? Finish at a reasonable hour? That’s incredible.”

Matt shook his head and stretched himself. Being seated around tables all day was uncomfortable and the rain outside the windows didn’t help. “We’ll stay late again tomorrow. Let’s have the car brought around so we can get out of here.”

Matt pressed the intercom and ordered Sanne to have their vehicle waiting outside the building for them as they gathered up their briefcases and laptops. His mind wandered to his poppet. They had spoken every day since the tension on Tuesday, yet they hadn’t really spoken, not about their tiff. It reminded him of…God forbid, but it reminded him of his mother and Hannah. The way they would react after an argument, the ‘proper’ way of sweeping it under the carpet and going about life as normal. The rare times he witnessed his parents having words were followed by his mother acting as if nothing had transpired. In fact, come to think of it, most of the women from their world acted like that. Matt had experienced it first-hand with his elitist ex-lovers, and he definitely didn’t want his poppet acting like that. He enjoyed their arguments, the flash of fire in her eyes that let him know he was skating on thin ice and, if he didn’t change tact, he would regret it. Bollocks. She was changing and he didn’t want that. It was an unfortunate by-product of her being in a relationship with someone like him. He had noticed the subtle differences in her during the past few weeks. The way she would pause, thinking about her next words, before speaking. It annoyed Matt. He delighted in the way she used to blurt out whatever she was thinking. It was adorable. Of course, he had initially been pleased over her more poised demeanour when she was on his arm at restaurants or at functions. But, now, it grated on his nerves. She was trying to conform, to be perfect, like the other women she had been forced into interacting with. Her smiles strained when under the flash of camera lights from the media. Her beautiful eyes more and more guarded…being with her had changed him, and now being a part of his world was changing her. Matt felt that his poppet was going to end up with the short end of the stick.

In the car with Nathan he called her, their conversation brief. She was busy, distractedly recounting the dress rehearsal she and the other dancers had that day and advising him that the sale of tickets for her upcoming production had been better than she expected. Almost sold out. She had voiced her unease that it may have to do with their public relationship, as they’d never sold tickets that fast before and was annoyed at the thought that reporters might be sneakily buying tickets. Matt had calmed her worry, stating that it would help her company if they were doing as she suspected. It would be free publicity. When he ended the call, he glanced over at Nathan.

“Will Madi be able to make the engagement party next Saturday, Matt? It sounds like she’s swamped. Bella would be upset if she was unable to attend,” Nathan asked, tugging on his seatbelt.

“We’ll both be there, Nathan. You haven’t confirmed what we should get you and Bella as a gift.”

Nathan waved a hand in the air. “I could care less. Don’t see the point to be honest. It’s not like it’s the actual wedding where a gift is expected.”

Matt arched an amused eyebrow at him. “Don’t let Bella hear you saying that. How is she by the way?”

“Fine, busy with work and planning the big day.”

“You have confirmed the date?” Matt asked in a pleased voice.

Nathan nodded, grinning widely. “Three weeks after Franklin’s Swiss adventure. I figured, by the time we fly out to Switzerland, she’d be in need of a break from planning the wedding. She’s got the makings of a bridezilla. Before we left on this trip, I overheard a conversation she was having with the wedding planner. I didn’t know my Bella was capable of making violent threats.”

Matt chuckled. “I’ve always told you, still waters run deep. And Bella appears to be the calmest of us all.”

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