Page 46 of Lovers' Dance

The shades were off completely as I chewed my lower lip in discomfort. The money issue had reared its head. Awkward.

“Thanks for the offer but, no, I don’t want you spending money on me.”

Matt shrugged, attention on the water and not on my uneasy expression. He was deliberately ignoring me. Impressive considering I was literally centimetres away. “I’ll do whatever I want. No sense getting worked up over it. Are you hungry? We left before breakfast this morning and Rosa has made us a basketful of goodies.”

“Did you gloss over my last comment?” I asked, bare feet tapping the deck.

“Yes, I did,” Matt confirmed, without a sliver of remorse as he shut off the engine. “We’ll drop anchor here and have something to eat. Then I’ll show you how to handle the boat in open water.”

My mouth was hanging open. Matt laughed, raising a hand to shut my jaw and moving his shades so they nestled atop his head.

“You are, without a doubt,” he said cheerfully, “the most delightful woman I’ve ever met.”

“Delightful, my ass,” I muttered.

Matt gripped my chin, intense grey eyes roving over my face. “That’s delightful, too, poppet, but I’m serious. You are fast becoming a fixture in my life, and we need to have a frank discussion about that.”

I stilled, unsure where he was going with this. He didn’t seem relaxed anymore; tense was a better description for the vibes he was giving off. I ducked my head, not wanting to have the talk with him. The ‘what do you think is happening between us’ talk. The talk where he verbally clarifies that fun things must come to an end, or worse, one where he wants to keep me as a secret bit on the side. I couldn’t bear that, even though that was exactly what I was right now. Knowing it and having it spelt out were two completely different things.

“I’m hungry, Matt. Let’s go eat,” I said brightly and ducked under his arms before heading to the stairs leading to the lower deck.

Matt couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was absolutely stunning in her dress and earning more than a fair share of appreciative male glances as she tossed her head back, laughing in delight at whatever the grey-haired Italian man had whispered in her ear. Matt sauntered over, drinks in hand and wearing his usual aloof smile. The dirty, old man was hitting on her, not that he could blame him. The strapless green gown fitted her perfectly, cinching at her waist to reveal the enticing lines of her figure, and the contrast against her smooth, chocolate skin was mouth-watering. Matt stifled a laugh, remembering the look of horror on her face when he dragged her into the Valentino store, intent on seeing that dress in the window on her instead of the mannequin. She had flat out refused to let him purchase anything, only relenting when he threatened to leave her stranded in the city. When they’d entered the next store, her eyes lit up in shameless delight. He felt no reservations in spending his money on three pairs of what he thought were ridiculously over-priced Manolo Blahnik shoes. The child-like giddiness on her face was worth it. The amount he’d spent in the shops was a drop in the ocean where his finances were concerned.

Matt had made the decision to cut short their early morning sail and take the train into Milan. During breakfast, she had seemed unusually withdrawn and it didn’t sit well with him that his dark beauty wasn’t smiling. So, wanting her bubbly demeanour to return, he notified her of the change in plans, hoping it would improve her mood. It worked. They donned baseball caps and shades, and she’d joked they were incognito. Matt had toyed with the idea of broaching the topic of their secret relationship, but was unwilling to risk spoiling her mood. He could wait a while longer, wait for the right moment to present itself, then demand—no, not demand—ask her to consider being in an open relationship with him. It was a lot to ask. Being with him would mean her life would be open to public scrutiny, and Madi didn’t seem the type to adapt to the sort of publicity he’d faced over the years. If she said no…Matt shoved that thought away. She wouldn’t say no.

“Here’s your drink, poppet,” he murmured on arriving at her side. He arched an eyebrow at the man old enough to be his father as she took her glass with a grateful smile. Matt asked the stranger in fluent Italian whether he thought he could steal his woman away from right under his nose. When the old man burst into raucous laughter and slapped Matt good-naturedly on the back, Madi’s gaze swung suspiciously between them.

“Forgive me,” the grey-haired man gushed. He’d obviously had one drink too many. “But she isuna bella giovane donna.” He lapsed into his native Italian and clobbered Matt on his back. The man turned to Madi, hands flying up to grab her shoulders before either her or Matt could react, and kissed both her cheeks with flourish. “Bella.”

“Enough of that,” Matt warned with a friendly smile, but he did step closer to her and slipped a proprietary arm around her waist. Old or young, Matt didn’t want any other man touching his poppet. Ever.

“Making friends?” he asked after the man stumbled away. She turned into his body, face raised and grinning impishly at him. So damn beautiful, he thought to himself.

“What did you say to him?” she asked, brown eyes alit with curiosity.

“To sod off before I kicked his arse.”

“You didn’t.” She glanced in the direction where the man had headed, then looked at him.

“No, I didn’t,” he admitted. “But I should have. Bloody man taking liberties with you. I’m not leaving your side for the rest of the night.”

Madi pressed herself closer to him, and Matt suddenly didn’t want to spend another minute here. The party had been suggested by Franco. Matt wanted to take her dancing, but somewhere he wouldn’t run the risk of running into anyone he knew. When people found out about them, it would be on their terms, not due to someone spotting him, then gossiping about it.

He tightened his arm around her and tossed back his non-alcoholic drink. “Do you want to go?”

She leaned back in surprise, forehead furrowing as she observed him closely. Matt winked at her and watched the realization dawn on her face.

“Let’s go.”

“Good,” he muttered, relieving her of the untasted drink and propping it on the low wall where they stood. “I’ve got a raging you-know-what and it’s entirely your fault.”

“Matt,” She gasped, head darting around to check if he’d been overheard. “You can’t say those things in public.”

“I just did, poppet. Let’s find the fastest gondola in Venice and call it a night.”

She huffed for a moment, then beamed at him, slipping her hand into his as they left the jovial crowd behind. They walked about five minutes before she let out a sharp cry of alarm and stumbled against him. Matt instinctively righted her movements before she fell.

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