Page 117 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“You’re a megalomaniac, Matt.” I repeated. “This isn’t aboutyou, and it’s a documentary for heaven’s sakes. It can really boost the profile of my company.”

Matt regarded me silently for a moment. I held his gaze, knowing he was going to make a persuasive argument against me doing this. So persuasive I’d probably start seeing it from his point of view. My shoulders slumped a little. I needed to bolster my mental and verbal defences, plan my rebuttals for his points. Darn it. I was going to lose this argument.

“There must be rules,” he finally said. My eyes widened in shock. Matt glared at me. “Our personal life is completely off-limits. I’m bloody serious, Madison! Stop grinning. I won’t permit any filming at our home. You said unfettered access? Well, that’s not happening. Stop grinning and pay attention, poppet.”

I got off my chair and manoeuvred myself onto his lap. “I love you.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do,” Matt retorted dryly. One of his hand landed on my lower back while the other began to trace the frills around my buttons. “I believe a physical display of how much you love me is required right about now.” He expertly popped the top buttons of my shirt, lust pooling into his eyes.

“No way,” I moved to get out his lap and Matt grabbed me around the waist. “Are you crazy? People will see.”

Matt glanced around in a pointed manner. “Which people? And I’ve ensured the CCTV cameras have been turned off for the time we’re up here.”

I tapped the glass floor with my shoe. “The ones looking up.”

Matt’s mouth curled up into a devilish grin. Oh no. I was already weak in the knees at that grin.

“If you straddle me,” he paused, undoing a few more buttons before bending his head and pressing feather-light kisses across my chest. I shuddered in response, my hands already tugging his tie loose. Why the heck not? You only live once…

CHAPTER 12

Dougie’s younger sisterwas psychotic. Sweet, but definitely psychotic.

“You did what?” I needed her to repeat it.

Patricia McGregor was a plump bundle of plucky spirit. Did I mention she was psychotic? Dougie shook his head, brotherly consternation lining his face as he sipped his pint. The three of us were sat in the corner of a pub, getting our grub on amidst the lunch-time diners. Just a normal pub, not a fancy restaurant, and my kind of place. I had agreed to meet Dougie for lunch, as long as it wasn’t some posh place where people would know who we were. His sister tagging along was an unexpected surprise, but he explained he wanted her to meet me.

“I had one of my not so savoury friends threaten to publicly humiliate her within view of her family. It was amusing seeing her face.” she reiterated in her slightly accented voice.

Her Scottish brogue wasn’t as prominent as her brother’s and they looked nothing alike. Her shocking red hair and green eyes were distinct from Dougie’s brown locks and hazel orbs. Did they have the same parents? Hmm, family skeletons perhaps?

“And Da promised ta skelp yer wee behind,” Dougie warned, taking a healthy glug from his glass.

Patricia frowned at him. “What is wrong with you, Dougie?” She glanced askance at me. “He doesn’t usually speak like this, Madison. When he came back home from Oxford, Mum was distraught at how English he sounded.”

“Madi,” I corrected before squinting at Dougie. His cheeks were tinged pink, in fact, his whole face was fast turning red.

“Next you’ll be calling me a wee scunner.” she drawled, again looking between Dougie and me.

“What’s a wee scunner?” I enjoyed learning the vernacular. And what did she mean Dougie didn’t speak like this?

“A little nuisance.” Dougie explained. “Which she is.”

Patricia peered at him for another moment before shaking her head and popping some chips in her mouth. Dougie smiled brightly at me then stole a chicken strip off my plate. My fork just missed its goal of rapping his fingers.

“Are you having fun at Oxford Uni, Patricia?” I asked.

“Fun?” Dougie spoke up. “Ye better be studying not having fun. Soon ye’ll be learning the ropes of the family business.”

Patricia and I both scoffed at his bossy tone.

“She’s 23, Dougie,”

“22,” Patricia corrected. “Final year.”

I sipped my pint and continued. “She should be having some fun at Uni.”

Dougie reached for another one of my chicken strips. This time my fork was right on target.

---