Lovers' Dance (17 page)

A myriad of emotions flew across Matt’s face, finally settling to one of tenderness as he tossed the hangers over to the dresser, along with the empty box and wrapping paper.

“About bloody time you figured it out,” he said as dry as dust, before grabbing me and tossing me onto the bed. “So stop removing my aftershave from the bathroom cabinet and bagging it up. Your dress is amazing, by the way. Take it off.”

My mouth curled down at his domineering tone, but the dress did come off. He crawled into bed with me, laughing at my frown and knowing exactly why there was one on my face.

“Seriously, Matt, you can’t order me around like one of your employees,” I groused, while he tugged my panties off, then spread my legs. He looked up at me, a devious smile on his face.

“The only sounds I want from you are moans of pleasure, so be quiet until then, poppet.”

My mouth fell open, outraged and shamefully turned on. “Why you arrogant—ah. Oh, Matt.”

“Shush.” His voice was muffled from between my trembling legs, but carrying an edge of sternness. Damn, even going down on me he was bossy.

“I’ll shush you,” I gasped out, winding my hands into his silky black hair. Matt focused on flicking his tongue over me, tormenting me until I was indeed only capable of moaning with pleasure.

<><><>

It was half-five and he was exhausted. He’d only had about an hour’s sleep and those reports that he should’ve gone over last night were untouched downstairs. Matt finished buttoning up his shirt, watching her roll over and reach out for him in her sleep. A pleased smile graced his face. He needed a proper night’s sleep, but he couldn’t stop himself around her. Matt tucked his shirt into his creased trousers. The mounting urge to tell her how he felt last night had been suppressed after the call from her aunt. She had been scratching her pinkie finger during the call, an unconscious gesture of stress he had noticed over their time together. He knew she was worried, and not wanting to add to her worry by admitting his desire to make their relationship public, he had bit his tongue. The opportunity would present itself soon enough.

Matt made a mental note to get Rachel, his secretary, to clear a full week for him. He would take Madison to Italy, then convince her to agree to his demands. Being in the public eye was daunting if one wasn’t used to it. And Matt knew that once news broke of him being in a relationship with a black woman ten years his junior…he pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He would get his PR team to launch a charm offensive. Maybe take her out to a few charity functions first.

He’d also been toying with the idea of investing funds in her dance company. From what she’d told him, finding sufficient backing to launch a major production like the one they were planning was difficult. Matt made another mental note to speak to the division in his company that dealt with charitable donations. In fact, he was going to make it the first course of action. It would deal with any questions over his public interaction with her. Hell, he’d been forced over the years to attend numerous charity balls for the worthy causes his family donated money to. Yes, this could work. After a few publicity events, which would help improve the company’s image and bring the art of dance altruistically to the underprivileged, they could start being seen as a couple in public.

Matt rubbed his chin, deep in thought. There were things he would need to keep out of the media, of course. Certain things about her parents could be misconstrued, and that bloody man, Kincaid. Matt felt frustration over her links to a man who was secretly being investigated by Serious Organised Crime Agency. After reading the file Nathan had procured, Matt had done his own investigation. He wasn’t happy with what he’d found. All these things he kept to himself. Admitting his knowledge of it would lead to her finding out about the background check, and he knew she would be furious. A smile curled his lips.

Feisty. His feisty, dark beauty who he loved. Matt’s breath caught in his throat. God. Was he truly in love with her or obsessed with the pleasure she brought him? His heart said ‘yes’, while his logical mind scoffed. Matt decided that, for once, he would listen to his heart…

<><><>

“Matt?” I murmured, reaching out and finding only pillows.

“I’m here, poppet,” he said from above. I rubbed my eyes and sat up in bed, clutching the sheets to my chest as Matt buckled his belt.

“What time is it?”

“Five thirty. I have to go.”

I nodded and yawned widely. Matt grinned, coming over to sit next to me on the bed.

“I’ll try to call you later,” he said, leaning down to kiss my bare shoulder. “I should know by this afternoon when we can go.”

“Go where?” I was half asleep. I wrapped my arms around his neck, the covers slipped down, pooling around my waist. Matt’s hands dug gently into my back.

“Italy, poppet.” he replied, before kissing me deeply. “Go back to sleep. I’ll lock the door after me.”

“Okay.” I stayed awake long enough for him to walk out of the bedroom, then slumber took hold once more. When my alarm blared out at seven, I rolled over and snuggled my face in his pillow. His scent was intoxicating. Everything about Matthew Bradley was intoxicating. And overwhelming. Consuming was a better word. He consumed me. It was scary as hell, and damn exciting. Yawning, I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower.

By the time I parked outside the studio, I was jonesing to see him again.

“Hey, Madi.” Gloria, our receptionist and part-time toddler group dance instructor, held up a cup of coffee.

“Gloria, you’re the best,” I said in appreciation as I walked by and took the offered cup. “Is Dante in? I didn’t see his car out front.”

She nodded, flicking through her magazine. “His girlfriend dropped him off about thirty minutes ago. He’s in the office.”

I forced myself to smile and traipsed into the office. I disliked Christine with a passion. Heck, I’ll say it: I hated the bitch. She was so up her own asshole, laughing at me when she thought I didn’t notice.
Dante’s little friend, Dante’s annoying sister, Dante’s stray
; all those comments she made in jest around the others. Forget the fact she was hot as hell and knew it. She was a conniving, little witch who made it clear the first time we met that Dante was hers. I’m all about sisters sticking together, but she was one of those fair-skinned black people who thought they were better than anyone darker than them. Where the hell did she get off? Dante was as dark as me and currently her boyfriend, so her superiority complex was faulty. I sighed and eyed the office door for a full minute before entering. Sour grapes. I was honest enough to admit I disliked her because she’d stolen Dante from me. Not that he was mine to begin with—

“Hey sweet cheeks.” Dante got up from the cross-legged position he was in on the floor. “You look tired. Not sleep much last night?”

Another thanks sent upward my cheeks couldn’t physically turn red. “Umm, yeah, something like that.” I tossed my bag onto one of the worn chairs in the office. The space was cramped, suitable for our needs, but definitely cramped.

“I’m thinking.” Dante held a hand out to me.

“Never a good thing,” I teased, taking his hand.

“Ha, funny. Anyway, I’m thinking we should put some
fouettes en tournant
in the final bit of the choreography.”

I paused, thinking about it, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I like that. Maybe instead of having the dancers in a straight line, we could do a sort of semi-circle, open it up. We’ve got the series of
grand jetes
right before. The
fouettes
could work.”

Dante nodded in agreement, ideas flying across his face. “Let’s hit the floor, Madi, and try it out and see how it flows.”

“Are the others here yet?” I asked, as he tugged me along.

“Bri and Eddie are, Lisa should be in soon and the others will probably get here around ten. Have you eaten?”

I shook my head. “I’ll get something later. I’m thinking about selling the house, Dante.”

He stopped abruptly. My eyes were on his back, so crashing into him was averted. “You’re what? Why?”

I shrugged, pulling my hand away. “Our cash flow for this place is getting tight, plus Aunt Cleo—”

“Stop right there.” Dante held a hand up. “You are not selling your home, Madison DuMont. We’ll get the cash somehow, and I’m not letting you get played by your aunt again. Where would you live? Did you think of the costs of renting?”

He was fuming. I chewed my lower lip and shrugged again.

“It’s not happening, Madi. I’m your best friend, and I’m putting my foot down.”

I grinned at his indignation. He was cute when he got mad.

“That Kincaid dude called for you this morning,” he added as we resumed our trek to the changing rooms.

“Really?” I smiled in delight. “Geoffrey’s lovely, isn’t he?”

Dante let out a dry laugh. “He has an unusual fixation with you. Freaks me out. Not to mention he’s what? Fifty, maybe sixty?”

I punched his shoulder lightly. “My dad was his friend. Geoffrey’s looking out for me. You weren’t complaining when he donated that cash last year for our
Down the Rabbit-Hole
production. Oh, no, Dante Emmanuel Palmer, you were, ‘Gee, thanks, Mr Kincaid. We’re
so
grateful.’ Honestly, I thought you would plant a big wet one on his lips.”

“Shut up, training bra. Yeah, I said it. Don’t screw your mouth up at me or I will put you over my knee—ow! Madi. Stop punching me. Sorry, sorry.”

I stopped hitting him. Training bra. It had been years since he called me that, almost twelve years.
Douche.

Laughing together we got changed, backs turned to each other, then hit the dance floor. It was almost five in the afternoon when we took a proper break. I went to the office to get my cell. Matt had called. Why did I pump my fist into the air like a jock on steroids? He left a brisk message, telling me he managed to clear his schedule and we would be leaving early Saturday morning. Pack a week’s worth of clothes and a bikini. Then he said, “Miss you, poppet.”

If it wasn’t the twenty-first century, my actions could’ve been mistaken for a swoon. Then I got slightly annoyed at his commands. I had my own life. I couldn’t take a week off at the drop of a hat to jet off to Italy with him. That posh, bossy, sexy man. So why was I now standing next to Dante in the hall telling him I needed next week off? Why was my tummy doing somersaults at the prospect of spending time with Matt? Not the rushed hours we spent at my place where he was always arriving late and leaving early. A week with Matt sounded like heaven. Yes, it did, but it didn’t stop me from checking out Dante’s butt on the sly.

The afternoon classes had started, and I took time to pop into the intermediate level class. A pleased smile was on my face as I watched the ten students go through their paces. They were getting much better and Sarah, their instructor, had been over the moon with their progress the past few months. She was hoping we could put them in the latest production, knowing it would boost their confidence immensely being on stage in front of a crowd. I would discuss it with Dante. He was a bit anal when it came to any major production we did. Everything had to be perfect or there was hell to pay. Maybe we could have the class perform a small part in the opening acts. They would like that.

My eyes followed the girls’ movements. I felt slightly sad there were no boys in this class. Most people believed ballet was solely a girl’s thing; it wasn’t, but it was a hard perception to overcome. I mean, which teenage boy was going to risk his rep with his friends? When we were younger, I had witnessed first-hand how cruel boys could be. Needless to say, Dante had ended up in a lot of fights. That stopped when our instructor had warned him that one broken bone could potentially ruin his prospective career, and he needed to decide what was more important: maintaining street cred or doing what he loved.

“Okay, girls,” Sarah’s jovial voice called. “Let’s show Madi your
barre
work. Show her the strength in those ankles and toes, otherwise she’ll think you’re slacking with your pointe technique.”

I grimaced at Sarah as the girls glided over to the
barre
. Most of the older students were shy around me, maybe intimidated. I was sure their instructors were feeding them a myth that I was a black, draconian soul eater who could crush you with a glance. I smiled brightly at the girls and waited for them to start. They were good, better than good, and my gaze became astute as I watched them. Alicia was the best, with Jade and Laura close behind. I was pleased and my face showed it.

“You girls are doing well.” My tone was full of confidence and their teenaged faces beamed with pride. “Keep up the good work.” With a quick wave to Sarah, I slipped out the room. I would speak to Dante about maybe putting them into the production.

“Hi, Madi.”

It was Melanie, a cute little brunette who was ten and whose class ended at five. I glanced at the clock in the hallway. Six fifteen.

“Hi, Mel, is your mom late again?”

She nodded, trying not to frown. I frowned for her. We weren’t a babysitting service, and it was a school night. Where the hell was her mom? We had one hour classes for the younger kids twice a week. Tuesdays and Thursdays from four to five. Why was her mom always late? The schedule hadn’t changed since we first started. How hard was it to ensure you picked your kid up at the appointed time?