“I know the age difference between us, Dante,” I huffed. “And I-”
“Let her win that time too?” he teased. “You didn’t even defend yourself! Just curled up in a ball and cried.” He rolled his eyes. “Punk.”
Ok. So I lacked certain skills back then, but I was grown now. I could walk on my toes, literally put my entire body weight on my freaking big toes. I could leap six-seven feet up in the air, and make it lookeasy.I was capable of contorting my body into all sorts of shapes. I had muscle strength, goddamn it, one kick from my legs…huh. I was a ballerina and we were lean, mean, killing machines.
“I’m going to kick your girlfriend’s ass,” I warned. “And I just thought you should know that. I might need you to post bail because when I’m done with her,” I snorted, cracking my knuckles to get my point across. “She’s going down.”
Dante straightened up at once as alarm spread across his handsome dark features. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I got a call from Matt’s lawyer.”
“You said that already,” Dante waved an impatient hand through the air.
“I’m getting slapped with a non-disclosure contract because it has come to Matt’s attentionyour girlfriendhas been leaking info to the media about us. So now I can’t say anything about him to anyone, not that I planned to anyway, but it’s the principles of it.”
“What?” Dante had sprung up from the chair. It was so sudden I jerked backwards and almost fell out of mine. He slammed his hands over the desk. “What sort of bullshit are you talking about?”
“Bullshit?” I yelled back and removed my foot off the desk so I could stand. “Matt had an investigator looking into it. His lawyer said this P.I found proof Christine is selling stories to those gossip magazines. Do you talk about me with her?” I slammed my hand over the desk now. “Of course you do. How else would she get the information? Did you know about this? Are you a part of this too?”
The last question hurt me to ask. If Dante’s facial expression was anything to go off, it hurt him to hear it too. Opening then closing his mouth, he sank back into the chair. The shock he obviously felt wasn’t feigned.
“Are you certain?” Dante finally asked. “I mean, are you sure they got it right? Because they got it wrong about those pictures of you. I don’t – this is crazy.”
Sitting back down myself, and maintaining his stare, I said, “I think they have, D. It kind of makes sense, when you look at it.”
“Fuck.” Dante whispered, then he exploded. “FUCK! I swear-” He inhaled and exhaled violently before rubbing his face. “I only ever told her little things, never the important things. Well, she’s my girlfriend and we talk about things…I-”
“Like when Matt and I got engaged?” I asked softly. “That came out before we had even returned to England, and I did call and tell you the night he proposed.”
Dante looked ill. “Shit. I told her.” He rapped his fingers over the desk, agitated. He looked less ill and more pissed. “And I told her when you got married too. And when Aunt Cleo was sick – that little witch. If she’s done this,” Dante stood up. “I have to go. I’m going to get to the bottom of this right now.”
“Wait.” I called, frantic at the anger pouring off him. Yes, I wanted to beat her ass, but I had never seen Dante so incensed. What ifhebeat her ass? He vehemently opposed any form of violence against women. Being raised by a single mom had made him extremely protective of the female sex, but he looked like he was about to put his hands on somebody.
“What?” he ground out, halfway to the door.
“Ah, what are you going to do?”
“Do?” Dante stalked back towards the desk. “I’m going to find out if there’s any truth to these allegations! I trusted her and if she’s been selling things I told her in confidence to the media,” He made a terrible sound at the back of his throat.
“You’re not going to, um,” I scratched my scalp nervously. “You know, hit her?”
“What?” Dante’s dark brown eyes popped wide open. “Are you crazy? Hit her- look, I don’t have time for this, Madi. I have to go. The guys should be finished with their warm-up by now. You can show the artistic director what we want in the choreography.”
And with that he stormed out our office. I didn’t know how I’d expected him to react, but hunting down Christine like a madman was not what I had planned for. Maybe I should have spoken to Christine first, confronted her on my own, try to put a little beat down on her for selling me out. There was a 50-50 chance of her thumping me, I mean, models were fierce. Secretly relieved the potential punch up had been averted, Dante’s previous amusement at my claim to bad-assness was an embarrassing reminder I had no fight skills; I rose from behind the desk, glared at the ugly boot on my right foot and exited the office. This time last year my biggest worry was whether I needed to re-do the flooring in the fish bowl and Aunt Cleo’s tax bill. I dreaded to think what next year would bring…
“Top me up.” Dante held his glass out.
I grunted and stretched over to grab the bottle of chilled vodka on my coffee table. It was right there in front of him. He could’ve gotten it just as easily. I topped myself up too and settled back into the comfy cushions.
We were drowning our sorrows. Both staring morosely at the tv screen but not really paying attention to the movie. Our respective relationships were screwed beyond repair. Dante hadn’t returned to the studio today. I had arrived home to find him muttering to himself and pacing the living room of my terrace. He had looked at me, ashamed and remorseful; he had looked at me and all I could do was drop my stuff and hold my arms open. His first words had been:‘I’m sorry, Madi, I’m so sorry.’
Poor thing. How could he have known his ex was capable of such betrayal? I always knew there was a reason Christine and I didn’t click. But I had pushed away my anger. She saw an opportunity and took advantage of it, a trait that would normally be admired except the fact she’d screwed us over in her pursuit of the almighty dollar…um, pound.
The couple on screen were getting hot and heavy, foolishly might I add. That lurking mutant was about to pounce on their unsuspecting forms.
“I want to have sex.” I mused out loud.