Page 5 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“Well, isn’t that lovely,” Matt said with a dazzling smile as he beckoned a waiter over. “Bring me some Macallan whiskey and the menus.”

“1964, Sir?” the waiter asked eagerly.

Before Matt could nod, I spoke up. “No. Just bring him what I’m drinking, please.”

“Poppet,” Matt groused.

I gave him a disgusted look. “That’s a £12000 bottle of whiskey, Matt. Don’t be ridiculous.”

His mouth curled into a slow smile. “How do you know that?”

“I like my whiskey, Matt.” I replied and with a tight smile in his parents’ direction, I raised my glass in salute and downed it in one.

“Ah,” Matt eyed me. “Is that your first?”

“Third.” His father supplied with an eyebrow arched. Matt’s own eyebrow popped up. Like father, like son.

“Ah, I see.” Matt said, giving me questioning eyes.

I looked away and let my hands fall to my lap once more. This sucked ass. His parents were never going to accept me. Why the fuck had I let this get so far? I remembered the morning after we’d slept together for the first time. I had told myself it was all going to end in tears. Being the fool, I hadn’t listened to my inner voice. I had swirled for too long and gotten addicted to my knight. It was all going to end in tears. Forget the flawless diamond on my finger, forget his fiery admissions of love; I’d lost my family to this drama. One family was enough. As strong-willed as Matt was, I knew being ostracized from his family would hurt him deeply. I sighed and looked at Matt. He was watching me intently, well, watching my hands actually. I glanced down at my hands and stilled them.

Matt looked up at me and frowned. Then he turned his head in his parents’ direction and asked casually, “So, what have you three discussed in my absence?”

“Inconsequential things.” Portia breathed out, sending Matt a beatific motherly smile.

Matt looked at me, questioning it, and I nodded with a small smile. Yes, in their eyes I was inconsequential. I was tired of this, tired of it all. Was this what the future held in store for us? At war with our families because we loved each other? I had read Shakespeare, a lot of Shakespeare, and I was not going out like Juliet did! Star crossed lovers, my ass.

A menu got held in front of me and I took it, conscious of the gleaming jewel on my finger.

“What strikes your fancy, poppet?” Matt asked, pulling his chair closer and slinging an arm around the back of mine as he peered atthe menu in my hands. His own menu laid unopened on the table. He was so close I could feel the rush of air over my cheek as he breathed. I twisted my head to give him a ‘personal space, respect it’ look, but I got sucked into those piercing eyes of his, mesmerized by the barely visible gold flecks around his irises.

“I don’t know.” I murmured, unconsciously licking my lower lip as Matt’s gaze fell to my mouth.

The forced sound of his father clearing his throat broke us from the sizzling eye sexing session. I inhaled deeply and turned back to the menu. Matt’s hand lightly stroked my shoulder.

“Shall I order for you then?” he murmured, deliberately ignoring his parents as he focused all his attention on me.

I nodded wordlessly and tried to smile. His eyes were demanding that I smile.

The sommelier suddenly appeared at our table as we decided what to have. Matt and his father immediately conversed in fluent French with the man, who approved of their knowledge of either the use of his native language or the wines. And just to make me feel like the odd one out, Portia joined in their conversation. Great. Why hadn’t I done languages? Now I looked even dumber. I fiddled with the lace napkin while the four of them chatted. Once the food and wine had been ordered the sommelier gave us a little bow and whizzed off.

“Such a delightful man,” Portia said with a smile. Turning her face towards me she asked, “Do you not speak French, Madison?”

I smiled coolly. “I know what is required for ballet terms, but not enough to converse with such fluency, Mrs Bradley. I can speak some Spanish though.”

Matt joined in with a playful, “Come now, poppet. Mrs Bradley? That’s a terribly formal way to address the woman who’s going to be your mother-in-law,” Matt shot his mother a challenging grin. “Soon. By the way, you have yet to congratulate me on our exciting news.” Matt cocked his head at me, gaze swivelling between his parents and myself. “Did they congratulate you, poppet?”

“Um, something like that.” I hedged. This was bullshit. I felt as if Matt was using our engagement to bait his parents.

“Matthew speaks several languages,” Portia said. If she was trying to point out our differences she was doing a damn good job. “Such aclever boy, my Matthew.”

“Mum,” Matt groaned with embarrassment that all grown children felt when their parents go into super proud mode.

“Oh, hush, darling,” She waved his embarrassment away with a graceful flick of her own blingified hand. “You know how proud Dad and I are of you.”

I smiled at him. He was embarrassed, it was cute.

“Your parents died when you were a child, yes?” Portia asked, blue eyes trained on my face.

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