Lovers' Dance

by Carr, K

  By the time eight thirty came around, I was ready. All that was left was to frost the cake I had baked, which was currently being chilled in the fridge. The table had been set, casserole ready to be eaten, and the wine glasses waiting to be filled. I glanced at the clock on the microwave as I whipped up my frosting. Shit. The candles. Where had I put them? They were by the coffee machine. A blue ‘three’ and ‘seven’. Matt would give me a stern look, left eyebrow raised in mock arrogance, and ask if I was poking fun at his age. I could picture it already.

  We had been seeing each other for the past two and a half months. And by ‘seeing each other’, I meant a torrid affair that no one knew about. It had been my idea, the need for secrecy. He was Matthew Bradley, a rich businessman frequently in the public eye. I didn’t want the hassle that went with that. Matt had agreed without complaint when I suggested keeping our ‘thing’ private. He had agreed so easily, I wondered if it had been my idea or something he’d planted in my subconscious. He wasn’t ashamed of being with a black woman. He told me so many a times when we snuggled in my bed. He wasn’t embarrassed. Was he? I finished whipping the frosting, shoving aside that unsettling thought and began frosting his cake.

  His birthday had been a month ago, but he was obligated to spend it with his family as his mother had arranged this massive party, which I saw pictures of in a magazine. Then he had been abroad for a few weeks with his older brother. We had decided to have our own little celebration together, never mind that it was a month late. I was dangerously close to becoming addicted to Matt, eagerly anticipating the sound of his key turning in the door whenever he came over. Going to his place made me uncomfortable. After the first night we’d spent together, I had yet to return. The thought of starchy George hovering over my shoulder, staring at me with that icy reserve as he judged me silently. I shuddered in my heels and continued smoothing chocolate frosting over the cake.

  Matt had asked me a couple of times to stay over at his house in Kensington. He stopped asking when he realized it made me feel awkward, then demanded a key to my place one night after he had to wait two hours for me to come home from the studio. I smiled at the memory of him fuming in the bog-standard Toyota Prius he had bought to drive over to my place. Parking in front of my house with that flashy Rolls-Royce of his was a definite no. He had demanded the key, I had refused. I had been the recipient of mind-blowing sex that night, after which he promised to withhold if I didn’t have a key made for him by the close of business the following day. I smiled to myself. Matt had a way to go concerning his arrogance, but he was improving.

  It was weird whenever I saw him on TV. His whole persona was different. One night at the studio, we were on a break in the rec room when his face was suddenly staring at me from the flat screen. It was all I could do not to choke on my water. He was being interviewed about the effects his family’s oil business was having on the surrounding environment. The interviewer didn’t know what hit him. Matt was absolutely charming at first, then switched to a razor sharpness as the interviewer’s questioning became antagonistic. I had watched the screen in awe as he fielded probing and leading questions before turning it around in such a way the poor man seated across the table from him became defensive, as if he was the one being interviewed. Then it was back to charming Matt, whom the interviewer thanked profusely for taking time out of his busy schedule to talk to him. I swore the man would’ve kissed Matt’s ass if it wasn’t inappropriate on national TV.

  I glimpsed at the time, it was almost nine. Thursdays he left the office as early as possible to get here. Damn. I missed him more than I should, very worrying that. The cake, complete with unlit candles, took pride of place centre table and I stood back to admire my handiwork. The only thing lacking was Matt. I went to sit and wait on the couch. He would love it. I hoped he loved his gift, too. When nine turned into ten, my annoyance was starting to grow. The food would be cold and I had put so much effort into making it right for him.

  The first time he ate one of my meals, his face had gone a splotchy red and he swore I was trying to assassinate him as he drunk a pitcher full of water. Death by chillies he called it. I had eased back on my spicy seasoning since, but was gradually increasing the amounts in each dish I made him. He’d be able to handle the hottest curry by the time I got through with his palate.

  When it got to ten thirty, my annoyance evaporated into resignation. He must have had to work late. I didn’t get upset over it. What would be the point? It wasn’t like I hadn’t ever dragged my danced out butt home gone one in the morning. I slipped off my heels and turned on the TV. If it got to twelve and he hadn’t arrived, I would text him to go straight home instead of driving all the way here. We could celebrate on the weekend.

  <><><>

  “It’s chucking it down out there.” Matt was hanging up his coat, kicking off his shoes and leaning the dripping umbrella against the door. A man capable of multi-tasking, nice.

  “Hey, hon.” I went over to get a wet kiss hello. “You look exhausted.”

  “I am, poppet. My idiotic brother forgot to advise me of a late meeting with bankers. I was almost out of the building when Rachel caught up to me and dragged me back in.”

  I was ogling him. He looked good enough to eat in his expensive suit, hair slicked back to give the air of sophistication one would expect from a man of his stature. His chiselled jaw screamed masculinity, that stern nose of his giving the impression he knew his place in life and it was higher than most people. His lips, God, I could write sonnets about those lips. But it was his eyes that drew me. When Matt gave you the full weight of his stare, it was a heady thing, intoxicating, unnerving; being under his gaze felt like drowning to me. But not in a bad way. Wasn’t that a bit messed up?

  “Are you hungry?” I asked, helping him with his jacket. Sometimes I forgot how tall he was. Without my heels on it was more than apparent.

  “No, we had food brought in around nine.” He tugged off his tie and threw it over the back of the couch. “And I have four reports that I need to go over tonight.”

  I looked at the clock above the small fireplace. Eleven fifteen. It was late. Matt brushed past me, taking his briefcase over to the small desk in the living room I normally worked on. I bit my lip and sighed. It was obvious he’d forgotten. He hadn’t noticed my dress.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, hon?” I asked, knowing the answer before he gave it.

  “That would be great, poppet.” He was retrieving his laptop from the open briefcase as he pulled out the chair and settled in for work. I headed for the kitchen to make him tea. While I waited for it to brew, I started putting away the food and clearing up the unused dishes.

  <><><>

  Matt ran a tired hand through his hair, glad he was here, but annoyed at the work he had to get done. He could’ve gone straight home instead of coming here. He usually did when it got this late, but he loved it here. This was his haven. His home away from home.

  He’d come to enjoy spending time in this cramped two bedroom terrace. It had grown on him to the point where he only truly felt relaxed when his key opened the front door. In here he didn’t have to pretend, to manipulate, to be Matthew Bradley. Inside this terrace, he was just Matt, a normal man doing normal things with an exceptional woman. He looked over his shoulder, eyes searching for his dark beauty. It never failed to surprise him how much he had grown to depend upon her outrageous exuberance that had forced him to stop taking himself so seriously. He only had to think of her, and a smile would grace his face, which was hard to explain when seated in the middle of board meetings with stuffy men who probably never enjoyed their lives. Matt was enjoying his; with her, he felt alive.

  “Poppet,” he called, regretting the fleeting kiss he had given her on his arrival, and wanting to rectify it immediately.

  “Just getting your tea,” she replied through the open kitchen door. Matt smiled, turning back to his laptop when he spotted the pair of blue heels by the couch. She was constantly leavin
g her things about, but her heels were a different story. She always put them away. Matt frowned. Had she been wearing something blue? He had been so distracted with thoughts of his day when he walked in he’d barely noticed. He got up slowly, sure her dress had been blue. Matching dress and heels. Bollocks.

  Matt made his way to the kitchen, leaning against the doorpost and mentally kicking himself as he saw her tidying away the table, with a cake in the middle of it. Fuck.

  He watched her in silence, finally noting the lines of the amazing backless dress that hugged her petite frame. Blue suited her. In his humble opinion, anything she wore looked perfect. She turned, eyes going wide in surprise as she saw him standing there, before sending him a sweet smile that made his chest tighten.

  “Hey, hon, tea’s ready. I was about to bring it to you.”

  Matt closed the distance between them. “I’m a complete arsehole. I can’t believe I forgot we were going to celebrate my birthday tonight.”

  “It’s okay.” She waved a dainty hand through the air, then touched his arm lightly as she moved past him towards the counter. He caught her by the wrist and pulled her into his arms.

  “No, it’s not, poppet,” he murmured, rubbing his face in her hair. Flowers. She smelt like wild flowers. “It’s inexcusable.”

  “I know how busy your life is, Matt. I knew it when we got into this thing. It’s no big deal.”

  Matt let her move away, because she wanted to. She really wasn’t upset. Her achingly beautiful face showed no malcontent. Not one bit. That annoyed the hell out of him. She should be upset. She should be shouting at him for being a jerk and forgetting tonight after all the effort she had put into it.

  “I’m famished. Let’s eat.” He went to the cupboards and got two plates down.

  “Matt.” She smiled, clutching cutlery in her hands. “What are you doing? It’s gone eleven and you ate at the office earlier. Don’t be silly and make a big deal out of this.”

  He shot her a stern look. “I’m hungry. Are you going to feed me, poppet? Or are you going to let me waste away into nothing? That’s negligence. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  “The casserole’s cold now,” she said dryly, but she was putting back the cutlery on the table.

  “Pop it in the microwave. I’m starving and, if you don’t give me food, woman, I will eat you instead.” He knew how she would respond to his loaded comment and he hid a smug smile as she narrowed her eyes, hands on hips, trying her best to look offended at his cheek. The glimmer of growing desire in her eyes she couldn’t hide though. That was his reward. Seeing her lovely brown eyes burn with heat for him was something he never wanted to lose. Her lack of emotion over his forgetfulness was worrying. God. He wanted it to matter. He wanted to matter to her.

  “Okay, gigantor,” she teased, gliding over towards him. “I’ll feed you, seeing as you asked nicely.”

  He had the grace to look shame-faced. He knew how unbearably domineering he came across sometimes, most of the times really, but he was trying to curb that part of his personality around her.

  She went on tiptoes and kissed him softly. Matt wrapped his arms around her, enjoying complete access to the satiny skin of her back.

  “I am sorry, poppet,” he murmured after a while. She smiled and went to dish out their plates of food. Matt watched her move around the small space. He loved watching her move, especially when she was unaware of his observation. Witnessing her dance in front his eyes had been an experience he could never forget. She didn’t know he had snuck away from work almost six weeks ago to attend one of her snap dances at Covent Garden. Exquisite was the only word that came to mind.

  The microwave dinged and he walked over to help her with the hot plates. The conversation between them flowed easily, as always. Matt was content and he didn’t want to lose this oasis of happiness he had stumbled upon by either sheer luck or divine intervention.

  “What do you think of the cake?” she asked, playing with her food. Matt glanced at it. He had been trying to ignore those bloody candles since walking into the kitchen. He didn’t answer at first, instead reaching for a drink of water. He was fully aware of her seasoning getting spicier recently. She thought he hadn’t noticed. He would politely ask her to stop before his poor taste buds suffered a chilli-induced death.

  “The cake looks lovely,” he said dryly, left eyebrow rising in feigned anger as she grinned mischievously at him and pushed the food around her plate. “The candles though…well, we’ll discuss that issue later in bed, poppet. I warned you what would happen if you persisted in pointing out our age difference.”

  She licked her lips slowly, eyes filling with a heat that made him want to bend her over the table and have his way with her right now.

  “But you are a decade—”

  Matt cleared his throat loudly and she burst into laughter. He smiled. The phone rang and he glanced at his wristwatch. It was late.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, laughing as she rose up from the table. Bloody hell, that dress was amazing on her. Matt listened to her answer the call and he felt an unmistakable spurt of jealously. Dante. Why the fuck was he calling his woman at this time of night? He heard Madi giggle and he put his utensils down. Taking another gulp of water he stood up, then made his way to the living room.

  She stood by the fireplace, back to him, and twirling her hair. That spurt of jealousy was now a full-blown storm. She did that every time. Every fucking time she was on the phone with him, she would play with her hair. Matt knew she had a crush on Dante. He’d been in enough relationships to spot the signs. In this case, he truly was older and wiser. He knew she liked Dante and it killed him inside. It was the manner in which she talked about him, about their work together, their childhood growing up, their shared aspirations for the dance company. Matt was getting to the stage where he wished Dante would get on a plane and fuck off back to the States. He stood filling the doorway and scowled. This was becoming intolerable. It had started a few days before his birthday last month. He had wanted nothing more than to spend the day curled up in bed with her, but his mother had planned that farce of a party which he felt obligated to attend. On his way there, Matt realized how much he wanted Madi at his side. He grew weary of this secret relationship. It was she who suggested it initially. Matt, in his eagerness to explore a sexual relationship with her, had agreed. He would’ve agreed to any terms to keep her in his bed, and it also dealt with the issue of the media and his family finding out. But he was tired of hiding. His scowl deepened as her conversation turned to work, a discussion about the upcoming production she had told him about. Matt had thought her dancing exquisite that day he saw her in Convent Gardens.

  What he hadn’t enjoyed was Dante’s bloody hands all over her. She danced differently with him, it was clearly noticeable. At first, Matt thought it was due to them spending most of their training at their old dance school together but, lately, he was beginning to believe it was more. And they looked good together. Matt never thought the day would come when he was jealous of a young black man, but that bloody day was here. Madi was his. She was his and he wouldn’t let her go. He loved—

  Matt took a deep breath, a shaky breath, as he finally admitted to himself something that he recently suspected but didn’t want to believe, telling himself it was foolish to think in such a way. Matthew Bradley didn’t believe in love. There was duty and loyalty, the obligations expected of him and his siblings. Marry well and maintain the Bradley name. But she belonged to him, damn it.

  He loved…her.

  “Pyjamas,” she said jokingly. “Now go focus on the last bit of the choreography and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Matt thought he was angry before, now he was livid. What sort of question got an answer like that? He knew because it was a question he’d asked her more than once when he was unable to come see her.

  What are you wearing?

  She turned around, the smile on her lips faltering at the look on his face. Matt
schooled his features into a neutral mask. Trying to find the right time to bring up the topic of their secret relationship was hard. They were both busy people and, when together, spent most of their time lost in the pleasure of each other’s bodies. Now was as good a time as any to tell her he wanted to stop hiding, before someone else stole her away from him. He’d be damned if he let that happen. Matt wanted to stamp his claim to her, to make it known no one else could have her. He wanted to beat Dante to a pulp, but he was a civilized man and that would not do.

  “We need to talk, poppet,” he said quietly, knowing how ominous those words sounded when he saw uncertainty ripple over her face.

  <><><>

  I watched Matt nervously. Why was he angry? The dispassionate expression he wore didn’t fool me anymore. I was getting better at reading him. Was it the too spicy casserole? Or the mocking candles? Or me?

  “About what?” I asked, fearing his answer. He was going to break it off. I knew he’d been distracted about something the past few occasions he stayed over, but I had foolishly put it down to work. Fuck. I was about to be dumped.

  The phone gripped tightly in my hand rang, startling me so much I jumped. Matt’s jaw clenched and his eyes flashed in anger as he glanced at the phone, then raised those chilly grey eyes to my face.

  Fuck. I was so dumped. I glimpsed the number flashing up. International. There was only one person who would call me at this time of night.

  “Give me two minutes, Matt. It’s my aunt calling.” I spun around towards the fireplace, needing to hide my features in case they gave me away. Oh God. I didn’t want him to dump me. My heart felt like a lump of coal at the thought of Matt saying goodbye to us, a blackened, lifeless piece of coal. “Hey, Aunt Cleo, how are you?”