Page 62 of Lovers' Dance

“Bye, Aunt Cleo,” Dante and I said in unison before I hung up.

The office descended into a charged silence, until Nathan coughed lightly and said, “We should discuss this statement before we speak to the press.”

Matt folded his arms, piercing grey eyes latched on my face. “Your Aunt Cleo’s a racist.”

“No, she’s not,” I replied defensively.

Matt scoffed.

Dante glared at him and Nathan.

I folded my arms, like Matt. He better not start this. No one badmouthed my family. He didn’t know anything about them. Oh, wait, the sneaky giant had run a background check on me.

“I fail to understand how you can let her speak to you like that. How can you let anyone speak to you in such a manner? The things she said were offensive. And not once during that call did you defend me.”

I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t deal with this anymore.Defend him? Was he serious?My aunt was expressing her views. She was entitled to do so, and a little part of me believed she was right. I couldn’t help it. I’d grown up dealing with the unfair stereotypes applied to black people. Of course it coloured my view on society. Matt didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

I walked around the desk and dropped to the floor.

“You’re not going to hide again, are you?” Dante asked.

“No. Getting my bag.” I straightened up and slung the bag over my shoulder. “Matt, there’s a group of reporters in front this building. Make them go away.” I headed for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Matt called. “We need to discuss what just happened.”

“I need to dance until my feet hurt. Dante, you coming?”

With one last scowl at the two white men in our office, Dante sauntered out the door I held open. Matt and Nathan looked at each other while I tapped my foot impatiently, holding the door open.

“What?” Matt growled.

“I’m not leaving you two alone in here.”

“Of all the cheek,” Matt muttered, striding purposely towards me. “Where do you expect us to go?”

“Gloria will find somewhere for you,” I replied.

“Madison.” Matt was in what I had dubbed his ‘I’m in charge here’ stance. It was the way he held himself, rigid and uncompromising. This was my workplace, my building, my life. There were reporters outside my sanctuary, all because I had swirled with the wrong white man.

“Don’t ‘Madison’ me, Matthew. I’m furious with you. A background check? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

He had the grace to look ashamed. At least that was something.

“After you’ve gotten rid of the press outside,” I added, studiously avoiding his gaze, “I want you both to leave.”

“No,” he said.

I tightened my grip on my bag and raised my eyes to his. “This has been one of the worst mornings in my adult life and I need my space, Matt. Look, I’ll call you or something.”

Matt jerked back in shock. “Are you dismissing me?”

There it was. His arrogance shining through. Heaven forbid someone brushing off the great Matthew Bradley. Well, I wasn’t one of his employees. I was the black girl he was screwing and, right at this moment, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be that anymore. Everything was too complicated. Matt had been watching my face intently as those thoughts raced through my mind.

“Nothing’s changed, poppet.” His haughtiness being replaced by something else that unnerved me.Did he really love me?

“How do you do that?” I asked in frustration. “It’s like you’re reading my mind.”

A smile curved his mouth and I shook my head.

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