Lovers' Dance

by Carr, K

  “Yes, we shall.” I nodded arrogantly, as if the decision laid with me. Hell, I was only along for the ride. This was Matt’s world, not mine, but a girl has to maintain certain impressions. We women were in charge. Our men, willingly submissive to our needs and wants. And that’s not a black thing, it’s a woman thing.

  Matt directed that arched eyebrow at me. He’d picked up on my tone of voice. Uh oh. I hoped that well-defined eyebrow of his went back to its normal position, otherwise, I would be in for a reprimand. So much for being in charge, I mocked myself.

  Richard and his group of followers started to move along the platform, like everyone else. Nathan and Bella came back to fall into step with us. Matt’s thumb was caressing the skin of my hand. I was certain he did it on purpose. Seductive little touches that made me tingle and left me wanting more. The man was driving me insane. As we got closer to the seating area, a woman dressed in a tuxedo handed out bidding paddles. I didn’t take one. What was the point?

  There were about fifty guests, if my rough estimation was on point, chattering excitedly as they took their seats. Matt led us to the front row. I didn’t want to sit in the front and was conscious of the slits in my dress that flashed glimpses of my legs as I walked. I didn’t have time to worry about the backless style. I was worried about my nipples poking out. Matt’s touch was lethal, even if we were just holding hands.

  “Excited, poppet?” Matt murmured as Nathan and Bella moved to take the seats next to us.

  Matt and I sat down. He slung an arm over the back off my chair and resumed his sensual stroking. My shoulder was now being electrified.

  “A bit,” I murmured, then fell silent as Richard and his tweed outfit took to the structurally sound constructed stage. How on earth had they remodelled inside here? It was the tube, for crying out loud, not some fancy auditorium. What had they done with the old tracks? Who owned this place? If I hadn’t promised Matt to keep the location secret, I would’ve written a sternly worded letter to Transport for London.

  Richard welcomed everyone, then started talking about tonight’s event, and yada yada yada… I tried not to let my curiosity win out and kept my head facing forward. I wanted to turn in my seat and check out the other people who came here tonight.

  In no time at all, there were people on stage bringing out the first item up for auction. A beautiful painting by Chagall. I had a thing with art when I was younger. I knew a thing or two.

  I tugged on the arm of Matt’s jacket, and he leaned down so I could whisper in his ear, “It better not be stolen, Matt.”

  He shushed me and the bidding began. Richard wasn’t the one conducting the auction. A young, ash-blonde man with bushy eyebrows and a tweed jacket—what was up with the tweed?—was tonight’s auctioneer. He was good at it. I was swept along with the crowd as the bids kept getting higher and higher for the painting. Oh, crap. This was exciting.

  When the auctioneer finally brought his hammer down, I exhaled breathlessly, practically quivering in my seat as I spun around to catch a glimpse of the successful bidder. It was over. Ten minutes of frenzied bidding and an unmentionable monetary figure pledged. It was over, and I wanted to witness more of this madness.

  Matt was watching me intently. His grey eyes caught mine and I grinned widely at him, unable to hide my exhilaration.

  “Best date ever,” I said, to which he bent forward and kissed me on the lips.

  “I’m glad, poppet,” he murmured as we settled back in our seats. Matt held out the bidding paddle to me. “Here you go.”

  I stared at it for a second, perplexed. I raised my gaze to Matt’s handsome face.

  “You want me to hold it for you? What’s wrong with your hands?”

  Matt winked at me. “You’re bidding for me tonight, poppet.”

  My mouth fell open. Matt grinned and shut it for me as he physically placed the paddle in my numb hand. Was he mad?

  Nathan must have overheard him, because he leaned across Bella to ask, “You’re letting Madi bid?”

  Matt nodded, gaze locked on mine. “She’ll be fine.”

  Another item came up for sale, and I tore my gaze away from Matt’s to stare at the stage. I didn’t know how to do this, yet my grip on the bidding paddle had tightened. I was being sucked into the world of the super-wealthy…and, how shameful, I think I was beginning to like it.

  The atmosphere was intense in the underground space, building with each sold item as the guests sought to outbid each other for their chosen piece.

  Suddenly, Matt touched my knee. “Bid on the next item, poppet.”

  I blinked fast. I hadn’t been paying attention the past half an hour, too busy staring at the paddle in my sweaty hands while listening to the voices flying across the space.

  Oh, God. I gave Matt a nervous look. Hell, I was terrified. “What is it?”

  “A vase,” he replied nonchalantly. “It’s a gift I want for my mother.”

  The tweed jacket auctioneer announced the next item. My eyes widened to maximum capacity. It wasn’t a vase: it was a Ming vase.

  Matt was crazy if he thought I could do this. I tried to give him back the paddle, but he folded his arms and shot me a smug grin.

  “Matt, take it.”

  The auctioneer started the opening bids. My head swivelled between Matt and the stage.

  “Poppet,” Matt said in a firm voice. “I want that vase.”

  Shit. I raised the paddle nervously and the bid was in my favour—for all of six seconds before someone else went higher.

  “What’s your limit?” I asked Matt.

  He shrugged, grey eyes glinting with pleasure at my behaviour. “I want the vase, poppet. Get it for me.”

  Goddamned gazillionaire. Stupid, crazy Matt who had no idea of—

  My paddle went up again. I needed to stay in the game. I think there were five other people bidding on it. Bella kept egging me on whenever I hesitated. Matt nodded in approval. After ten minutes, I felt sick to my stomach. It was me and some guy on the other side bidding now. The others had bowed out, something I wanted to do. How could a vase be worth this much and we hadn’t finished yet?

  “The bid rests with the young lady.” The auctioneer pointed at me, then held his hammer aloft in the direction of the man. “Do I hear two-point-seven?”

  Millions; he was talking about two-point-seven million pounds. I felt the bile rise in my throat.

  “Poppet.” Matt squeezed my knee. “I know you can do it.”

  The faith shining in his eyes helped push the bile back down my throat, only just. Matt was obscenely wealthy, but I didn’t want him spending so much money on a vase.

  “We have two-point-seven,” the auctioneer said, eyeing me expectantly. “Two-point-eight?”

  I raised the paddle, strengthening my resolve.

  “Good girl,” Matt murmured with pride.

  When it rose to three-point-two, I freaked. The bid was with me, and I could see out the corner of my eye that the man was going to raise his damned paddle.

  Before I could stop myself, I launched to my feet, waving the paddle at him with blazing eyes. “I swear if you raise your paddle one more time, I’ll come over there. I am getting that bloody vase tonight.”

  The auctioneer’s mouth hung open widely as I blushed furiously and covered my reckless mouth with a shaking hand. Awkward. Humiliating. The list of words running through my mind at the moment was long, but humiliating kept top place.

  “Bloody hell,” Nathan said, as Bella regarded me with something close to horrified astonishment on her face. Those seated around us started murmuring in shock.

  Matt winked at me—he winked at me.

  Then I heard someone in the back laugh, and it started to spread through the ranks until it seemed everyone was laughing. Were they laughing at the embarrassing turn of events or at me? I so didn’t belong here.

  The auctioneer seem to catch himself as I sank back into my seat.

  “Shit,” I muttered, peering unhappily
at Matt. I threatened someone. Someone who was capable of bidding in the millions for old pottery. I hoped he wasn’t as powerful as my Matt. I didn’t want my date ending up with a police caution.

  “Right, ah, the bid is at three-point-two million,” the auctioneer said, trying to regain control of the laughing crowd. “Do I hear three-point-three?”

  I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me. I wasn’t acting right, but my head did turn to the side peering at the man. He leaned forward and sent me a salute. His paddle remained down. Thank fuck for that.

  Matt pulled me into a hug as the auctioneer tried to get someone else to bid. When no one else did, he banged the hammer signalling the sale. I slumped against Matt as people started clapping.

  “You were fantastic,” Matt said, fighting his chuckles.

  “I embarrassed you and myself,” I replied, turning my face into his neck.

  “You could never embarrass me, Madi,” he whispered fiercely, leaning back so he could peer into my eyes. “Never.”

  The staunch tone of his deep voice, the intense emotions pouring from his piercing eyes…no, I wasn’t going to let Grumps’s warning—or my own doubts—ruin our unlikely relationship. As pathetic as it was admitting it to myself, I knew I would be Matt’s as long as he wanted me. I had swirled myself into a sweet prison of confusing love and amazing sex. A prison I would happily do hard time in and refuse any offers of parole. Damn. I had it bad.

  Bella and Nathan were grinning at me, looking a bit astonished, but grinning in amusement.

  The auction continued and my buzz didn’t abate. Matt made me bid on one more item. Once again the auctioneer had to calm the crowd down. Once I raised my paddle, no one else seemed to want to bid, causing no end of laughter. I hoped it wasn’t due to them buying into the stereotype that black women were ready to throw down and get dirty. Shit. Had I embarrassed my race tonight? Acting a fool?

  Matt was pleased with me. His exact words were, “Bloody hell, poppet, you’ve saved me a fortune tonight.”

  I was pleased he was pleased, like—like a trained poodle happy to serve its master. Why wasn’t I stressed over that analogy?

  “Let’s get something to drink,” Bella murmured in my ear as soon as the auction drew to a close. Matt and Nathan wandered off, to finalize their purchases I assumed. Nathan had outbid this fierce-looking mature woman for a sixteenth century sword. Bella explained under her breath while he was bidding, that he liked ancient weapons. I made a mental note to keep a wary eye on him. Weapons collection equalled bat-shit crazy in my eyes.

  When the men returned, people started flocking to us in little groups, one after the other.

  Matt and Nathan. Together they were something special. I swear observing them interact with each other and the people hanging around us was like watching sand change into glass. They literally changed the behaviour of the people around them with their electric vitality. I could see, as I sipped my champagne and hid my expression behind the flute, that their friendship was a strong one. They seemed closer than brothers. That made me wonder about Adam and how he perceived Matt’s closeness with Nathan. I knew Matt was close to his older brother. But did Adam get jealous of Matt’s relationship with Nathan?

  Siblings. It would’ve been nice to have one. Oh, wait. Was I jealous of Nathan’s relationship with Matt? Before I could ponder that upsetting thought, an older woman with whom I assumed to be her husband—he was holding onto her waist the way barnacles clung to ships’ hulls—came up to us.

  “Boys,” she crooned, eyes sparkling like the diamonds around her neck. “It’s lovely seeing you here tonight.”

  “Hello, Mrs Vanderbilt.” Matt and Nathan greeted her in unison. They exchanged a smirk.

  I caught Bella rolling her eyes as she turned to converse with the strict-looking man on her right.

  “I haven’t seen you around the club of late. Why is that?” She rested a hand on Matt’s chest lightly.

  What the hell? Why was this Mrs Vanderbilt eyeing my man like that? Why was she eyeing Nathan in the same way? Why was her husband—I hoped he was her husband—doing nothing about her wandering hands?

  “You know how busy men like us are,” Nathan said glibly.

  Mrs Vanderbilt chuckled. It was a husky sort of chuckle. A sexy, inviting sort of chuckle. What the? She was probably as old as Matt’s mom, and still resting her hand on Matt’s broad chest.

  The woman turned her gaze on me. “Ah, this must be the one I read about. How exotic you are. And what a lovely shade of green that dress is.”

  I decided right then Mrs Vanderbilt was not going to have another moment of my time. Exotic?

  Matt smiled. “Mrs Vanderbilt, this is—”

  “Excuse me,” I interrupted with a pleasant smile. “I need to find a washroom, if there’s one down here.”

  I handed Matt my glass—well, not so much as handed, more like shoved it at him—before turning on my heels and slipping away, leaving a baffled Matt with his mouth parted in surprise and holding two flutes of barely drunk champagne.

  Exotic. Humph. ‘How exotic you are,’ I mimicked her words soundlessly as I weaved through chattering people. I didn’t need to pee; it was an excuse to escape, but I was too slow, and less than two minutes later, a firm grip landed on my bare back. I jerked away, knowing who it was. I could track Matt’s delicious scent through the Garden of Eden and not get lost.

  “What was that, Madison?” he murmured in a tight voice, while smiling at some people close by.

  “What did you do with my drink?” I asked instead, noting his empty hands.

  Matt pulled me to a stop, an unhappy frown on his lips. I avoided his gaze and studiously looked at our surroundings.

  “We need to have a private word,” Matt ordered, taking my arm and marching me forward. I wanted to dig my heels in, grab onto the pretty brunette flirting with the tuxedo-clad woman, yell at the top of my voice I was being taken against my will.

  The look on Matt’s face stopped me. I figured nothing I did would stop him from moving us through the crowd until we ended up in a semi-lit corner close to the stairs leading aboveground.

  “That was rude of you.” He started first. Of course he did.

  “Was it?” I shot back, avoiding his gaze.

  “You know it was,” he said in a carefully controlled voice. “What I want to know is why?”

  I fought the urge to say “Why what?” Matt was giving off the dangerous mafia-type vibes. The one when you know your death is seconds away, but you don’t know how it’s going to occur.

  “She called me ‘exotic,’” I answered coldly.

  “And,” Matt prompted, completely at a loss as to why I was annoyed. “What’s wrong with that? It’s a—”

  “Compliment?” I interrupted sarcastically.

  “Yes,” Matt replied, folding his arms and peering down at me with a serious face.

  Intimidation. He was trying to intimidate me with his bulk.

  “A backhanded compliment.” I snorted in derision.

  Matt’s eyebrow shot up at my sneer. “What on earth is wrong with you? You are making no bloody sense. How is that a backhanded compliment?” His eyes narrowed. “If this is another one of your perceived race issues, I will be annoyed with you, Madison. You see insults where none exist.”

  I laughed a bit, then stopped abruptly. He wouldn’t see it. Might as well explain it to him, even though I knew he would dismiss it anyway.

  “Am I a giraffe, Matt?” I asked quietly. “Or a jaguar? A mandrill? Puffer fish? Tapir—”

  “What the fuck are you on about?” Matt hissed in exasperation, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

  “Am I an animal, Matt? An exotic creature that belongs in a zoo? Or in the wild? Do you know what racial micro aggressions are, Matt?” I let out a humourless chuckle.

  “Yes,” he said slowly, a sudden change in his expression. “I do.”

  “That was a prime example of it. She wasn’t complimenting me. It�
�s like saying I’m gorgeous, but not in the conventional sense. Like I’m a freak of nature, an anomaly. And let me tell you, the only people who call me exotic are white people. Read into it whatever you want. Sorry you think I was rude. Do you want me to go back over there and make small talk with her?” I wasn’t sorry and he knew it.

  Matt didn’t answer. He stood there with folded arms staring at me. We had a serious stare-off for about four minutes. Then I had to look away. Darn it. I’d been out-stared.

  Maybe I should’ve kept my stupid mouth shut. Or thanked Mrs Vanderbilt for her ‘kind’ words. I sighed in resignation. I was being an ass and taking it out on Matt. Didn’t I decide tonight I wasn’t going to let anything mess up our relationship?

  “I’m sorry, Matt.” This time I was genuine.

  Matt unfolded his arms and rubbed his temple with one hand. “Don’t apologize, poppet.” He let out a resigned sigh himself, and we peered uncertainly at each other. I tried to win this stare-off, but those penetrating grey eyes of his totally defeated me. I looked away, consoling myself that he’d perfected his staring talents in the boardroom and he was a Bradley, whatever that entailed.

  “Your explanation does have some merit,” he said quietly.

  “Some?” I mean, it had more than some merit. My explanation was clear, concise. My explanation was loaded with merit.

  Matt eyed my stance. So I had a little attitude going on, but he had to admit I was making perfect sense.

  “I think—” He paused, then rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, we need to have a proper discussion about these things, poppet.”

  I opened my mouth and he held a hand up, silencing me. Was I trained?

  “Now isn’t the time,” he continued softly. “But it’s obvious we need to address certain contentious issues that unfortunately are unavoidable. We can’t change who we are, and unless we figure out a way to deal with certain issues—”

  “You mean race?” I asked. Why was he loathe to say it?

  Matt cocked his head at me. “Can I continue without further interruptions?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Now where was I?”