Page 40 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“You’re crazy, you know that, right?” he remarked.

“Crazy about you.” I winked at him and he grinned.

“Bloody hell. I can never stay mad at you.” Matt tapped the tip of my nose before cupping my cheek. “I didn’t sleep with my chef and she’s probably acting strange due to the fact you’ve scratched the inside of that wok to smithereens. George said she was muttering something about it.”

Oh, ok. Jumping to conclusions was never a good idea.

“And I’m not a breast man, I’m your man and I love you just the way you are.”

I was smiling like a fool, practically beaming like the sun.

“And I want us to set a date for our wedding.”

My smile faltered. Matt saw it and I couldn’t miss the flash of hurt in the depths of his eyes. Shit. “We’ve only been engage for about a month, Matt,” I started in a soothing voice. Why was he rushing this? Didn’t he realize I had to fix things with my family first? I couldn’t get married without them.

Matt observed me for a tense moment. “What’s your point, poppet? You know I don’t want a long engagement. We talked about-”

“No, Matt, we haven’t talked about it. You said you wanted to get married as soon as possible and I said we needed to discuss it. Do you even listen to me?”

Matt rolled his eyes and snorted in exasperation. “Of course I do. I simply see no point in dragging out our engagement. I want you as my wife.”

“I want to be your wife, but it just feels like we’re rushing this.”

Matt exhaled slowly as if trying to rein in his temper. “When would you like us to get married, Madison?”

“I don’t know, Matthew.”

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “If you promise to give me a date within the next six months, I’ll promise not to pressure you. Deal?”

I didn’t like the sound of that deal. It felt like I was getting the short end of the stick either way. Six months? That would fly by. “Can I think about it?”

“No. Do we have a deal?” he pressed.

“Did you like your Christmas present?” I knew it was a stupid change of topic but I suddenly felt trapped.

Matt’s expression softened. “I loved it, poppet, and don’t change the subject. Now do we have a deal?”

I nodded slowly.

“Good. Come, let’s go up. I still have to give you your presents.”

He took my hand and led me up the stairs while I had a mental freak out. What sort of clichéd fairy tale was I living in? Seriously. These things only happened in books and movies. Ex-cash millionaire, now financially over-committed woman, meets handsome gazillionaire, they fall in love, get married and live happily ever after? Was karma trying to pull a fast one on me? These things just didn’t happen. No wonder the media wouldn’t leave us alone. They were waiting for it to all fall apart. Hell, sometimes I feared it would all fall apart. Who gets married to their first boyfriend/lover in this day and age? A very small percentage that’s who! Unless, of course, it was an arranged marriage, stuff like that still took place.

“Watch your step.” Matt said sharply as I stumbled over the top stair. He tightened his hold on my hand and shut the basement door behind us. “Let me get change first. Wait for me in my office.”

I nodded quickly and warned as he brought my hand to his lips, “Don’t take too long, Matt.”

Releasing my hand, he added, “And I do enjoy your cooking, poppet, but I doubt Grumps would be able to handle the level of spiciness you insist on infusing in every meal you prepare. I still can’t quite forget the taste of -”

“Stop going on about it.” I playfully punched his arm. “It was poor judgement on my part to experiment with the Scotch Bonnetpeppers and fruits, I admitted it, move on, you beast.”

His deep laugh caressed my senses like a warm, comfy blanket as he smacked my ass in return. “I’ll be 20 minutes.”

I watched as he walked off, marvelling at the tightness ofhisass. Then I resumed thinking about my current dilemma. Six months really wasn’t a long time. I needed my Aunt Cleo, needed to tell her how scared I was over my engagement, needed to hear her say it would be ok.

“Hmph. Fat chance that’s going to happen.” I mumbled.

My steps were just a shade lighter than a full out stomp to Matt’s office. George spotted me and advised he would bring my breakfast to the office. I plopped down in Matt’s leather chair and propped my feet up on his desk as my eyes wandered around. A smile tickled the edges of my mouth when I spotted the picture on his desk. When had that been taken? It was one of me in the studio. There was another picture hidden behind that one and this picture made me blush. Cheeky pervert. It was one of me fast asleep in bed with the sheets barely covering my bare limbs. I grimaced at the wildness of my hair and promised myself to grow up and wear my head scarf whenever I spent the night here.

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