Page 160 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“Don’t hang up.” I spoke quickly. There was silence and I wondered if he would ignore my plea, dismally expecting the sound of dial tone in my ear.

“Madison,” Was all he said. Cold, unfriendly, my name had never sounded so horrible.

“I got a call from your lawyer this morning,” My words were rushed, agitated.

“Solicitor,” he corrected. “And I know.”

The tiny smile that ghosted over my lips at his unconscious habit of training British vernacular into me disappeared at the very matter-of-fact way he spoke. As if we were discussing business contracts, not our marriage.

“You can’t be serious,” I tried to infuse some authority into my tone.

“You’re a liar and a cheat, Madison,” he replied. “Those are not traits one would expect from a wife.”

“Matt, those photos aren’t real. I didn’t do anything.” Why would he not listen? “And you’re making a mistake.”

He cleared his throat softly then delivered a harsh blow. “I have made arrangements for your personal belongings to be delivered to your home in the next few days. I’ve also removed your name from our personal joint accounts, your cards have been cancelled.”

“Do you love me?” I had to ask. The question and its answer were the only things that mattered. The lengthy pause once again had me wondering if he ended the call. “Matt?” I pressed for a response.

“Does it matter?” he asked quietly, his smooth deep voice carried a distinct edge of anger. “Love is nothing without trust, and it’s obvious I can’t trust you. Now I have a very busy day ahead so if there’s nothing else,”

His dismissal hurt in ways I couldn’t begin to describe.

“How can you act like this with me, Matt? As if I mean less than nothing to you? I don’t understand-”

“There’s nothing to understand,” he cut me off harshly. “You cheated and got caught, simple as. I blame myself, should have known better. Someone of your age and background, well, I should have known better.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I implied,” he shot back. “I can’t bloody do this, Madison! You have no idea what your betrayal has done to me. The worst part is you lack the common decency to admit to your infidelity even though it has been proven. Stop lying, the photos are real and I’m not discussing this with you anymore. Don’t call me and get a damned solicitor.”

The loud click in my ear signified he’d ended our call. I put my cell down and stared blankly at the computer screen. He had made his mind up, and there was nothing I could say or do to change it. Mattwas making a mistake, but it was his mistake to make. He had refused to even entertain the thought of fighting for me, for us. I wrapped my hurt pride around me, angry and defeated. This wasn’t a fairy tale, this was life, my life; and it was screwed. What was I supposed to do now?

Cry? Fuck that.

Curse? Been done that.

Drive over there and clock him a hard one? Probably get charged with assault.

What the hell was I supposed to do now? I lacked the necessary relationship experience to deal with this cluster fuck. How did one make another person see and understand something they simply refused to acknowledge?

What could I do?

Locking the computer screen, I pushed away from my desk and glanced down at the ballet shoes on my feet. There was only one thing to do. Dance. Striding for the door my inner voice lamented the circumstances I’d found myself in, lamented and chastised. I should have never let the sexy bastard pop my goddamned cherry.

CHAPTER 17

To say Iwas busy was an understatement. Our debut performance at the Royal Opera House was due in slightly over two weeks. Everyone felt the nerves. Right now my heart rate steadily increased as I pressed the doorbell of Matt’s home, yes, I no longer viewed the stately Kensington property as my home. The ongoing duration of our separation had shifted the scales from my eyes. Matt didn’t want me. A long moment of fighting the bile in my throat passed before I heard the door open.

“Mrs Bradley,” George’s surprised greeting was quickly followed by a frost-tipped, “If you’re looking for Mr Bradley, he’s unavailable at the moment.”

I looked over my shoulder and gave Matt’s car a pointed stare, he was obviously home, and it was Sunday morning.

“Don’t worry, George,” I sent him a half-hearted smile. “I’m not here to see Matt. I wanted to return these. It’s my jewellery and I don’t want it.”

The bag I held out was large and filled with boxes of jewellery. Every single piece of bling he had ever bought me was inside, and it was a lot. Keeping the expensive pieces didn’t sit right with me and knowing I was returning a small fortune of gemstones made me feel better.

George took the bag from my outstretched hand, nodding quickly.

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