Page 70 of Lovers' Dance

The door opened and Dante sauntered in with a pile of post. Matt gave him cool eyes as Madi spun the chair back around and grimaced.

“Don’t tell me.” She groaned. “More—”

“Bills, sweet cheeks.” Dante finished with a rueful smile. “I’ll sort it. You head home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She sighed and logged out of her email before standing up. “Ok, use the—”

“Business account at Barclays, I know.”

Matt picked her bag up and held a hand out, which she took. He flashed a polite smile at Dante as they walked towards the door. “Pleasure meeting you.”

“Yeah, man.” Dante brushed him off, then smacked Madi’s bum as she passed him. “Call me later, Madi.”

“Mmm hmm. Bye,” she murmured absent-mindedly. Matt squeezed her hand, not liking the frown between her eyebrows and silently fuming over Dante’s brazen lack of propriety. This was the second time Matt had witnessed the man taking liberties with Madi’s arse. Matt would need to have a little talk with her about that.

“After you talk to Aunt Cleo,” Dante said.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to that conversation.”

Dante laughed and took the seat she vacated. “Tomorrow’s classes are on. I’ll send an email to the students’ parents.”

“Better put a disclaimer that they can be cancelled at short notice, just in case. Oh, and we need to get our staff criminal record checks done again. They’re due about now.”

“Will do. Go home.”

“Bye, Dante.”

I felt depressed, and my toes throbbed something bad. Matt squeezed my hand as we walked out the door and I glanced at our entwined fingers. His strong hand totally engulfed mine. Black and white.

“Do you think the press is still out there?” I asked as we made our way out of the building.

Matt glanced around while I got my keys out. “Doesn’t seem so, poppet, but they’re tricky bastards. Could be waiting down the street.”

We got in my vehicle and Matt adjusted the passenger seat, grumbling the entire time I needed a bigger car. He buckled up, then gave me a pointed stare. I buckled up, too.

“Matt,” I said, “don’t diss my baby.”

“Humph. Let’s go. What are you cooking for dinner?”

I rolled my eyes and started the engine. Slowly I pulled out the car park, nervously eyeing the front gates for any sight of reporters. There was one van parked on the road that I sped past, checking in the rear view mirror in case we were being followed.

“You drive like a maniac,” he said after five minutes, gripping the dashboard.

“Yep.”

Matt’s face lost its colour as my car zipped through a small opening between a Jag and Audi. The lights were green, and there was sufficient space between the cars for me to sneak up the middle.

“Jesus Christ, woman!”

I flipped on the CD player. “That’s blasphemous, taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

He tugged on his belt, making sure it was secure, then chewed me out all the way to my house.

“Did you buy your license?” I grabbed my bag and ignored him. I had learned it was the best way in dealing with him when he was this annoyed.

“Because it’s inconceivable you passed a driver’s test driving the way you do.”

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