Page 30 of Lovers' Dance

“This is kidnap,” I repeated, swivelling in the seat to point at Nathan. “You’ll be charged as an accessory to the crime. It’ll make the headlines, and you’ll both do time. Gazillionaires don’t last long in prison.”

Nathan’s polite smile blossomed into a real one. “My family’s business is in media. I think we could manage to keep a lid on this, and you should know people like us don’t go to jail. We have well-paid solicitors to see to that.”

My belligerence deflated with a pop. He was right. People like them didn’t go to jail.

“Put your seatbelt on, poppet,” Matt said, with a tentative smile.

“You’re a racist pig,” I stated.

“I’m not, in fact. You’re the only one bringing up the issue,” Matt countered quickly.

“I would have told you about my background eventually, Madi.” He sighed in frustration. “It’s not something one blurts out. Look, let me drop Nathan off, then we can talk about this. Now, buckle up.”

My eyebrows shot up, then lowered nervously. Before Googling him, I’d thought he was lovely. My knight. The only thing that had changed was his obscene financial status. Oh, and the fact I now believed he wanted me as a perverse sort of racial experiment. “You won’t hurt me, will you?”

Matt’s jaw fell open, grey eyes wide with disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous. I could never hurt you.”

I scrutinized his face until I was sure, then buckled up. The engine purred into life and we were off.

“Is there anything else you’ve failed to mention, Mr Bradley?” I asked with frigid hostility. I was in his car and, for some crazy reason, I trusted him not to hurt me, but I could still be bitchy. Heck, it was a woman’s right to be bitchy, especially if the situation called for it. And this one certainly did.

“Ah,” he began, hesitating for a moment. That pause made my mind go into a tailspin.

“Oh my God. You’re married, aren’t you? You disgusting, old man.”

Nathan was laughing softly in the backseat, obviously enjoying the argument.

Matt shot me a semi-scowl. “I am not married, and I am not old. Do you see a ring on my finger? Did you read anything about my marital status when youGoogledme?”

He had a point there. The Internet hadn’t thrown up anything about him being happily married. It had listed some of his past partners, though. I stayed silent, confused at the sudden rush of jealousy coursing through me. There were pictures, pictures of his ex-girlfriends. None of them looked like me. Read between the lines.

“Why do you keep harping on about my age? I’m thirty-six, not ninety-six.”

“Thirty-seven next month,” Nathan volunteered from the back.

“For the love of God, shut up, Nathan,” Matt exploded. We all fell silent. It was a tense drive to Kensington. I snorted in disgust. Figures they would live in the same area. When Matt pulled up to a house almost as impressive as his, my earlier feelings of inferiority threatened to swamp me. I slumped lower in the seat.

“I must say,” Nathan said, with amusement ringing through his voice, “this afternoon has been quite an experience. It was truly a pleasure meeting you, Madison.”

He leaned forward and held his hand out to me. Good manners required me shaking it.

“I wish I could say the same,” I replied tonelessly, taking back my hand. Nathan tilted his head between Matt and me, a sober smile on his face. “I doubt we’ll be seeing each other again. Best of luck with your dance company. Matt, I’ll be seeing you soon. Cheerio.” He exited the car, whistling under his breath.

Matt let out a long sigh, then turned in his seat to face me. I stared at my folded hands in my lap.

“Madi, look at me.”

“I don’t want to, Matt.”

“Please,” he said quietly. It sounded like that ‘please’ hurt. A man like him probably didn’t say please often. He probably didn’t need to ask for things, just expected them.

I lifted my head slowly.

“I want you, poppet, and not for any underhanded, racially motivated reasons like you suspect. I want you the way a man wants a woman. I want more than anything to make love to you, but if you feel absolutely no desire for me”—his hands clenched the steering wheel— “I will drop you off wherever you wish and never see you again. If you do want me the same way I want you, then I’ll take you to my house and spend the rest of today memorizing every inch of you. The choice is yours. Whatever your decision, I will respect it.”

He kept his intense grey eyes on my face, searching for an indication of my feelings. I didn’t know what to think, to feel, to say. Before bumping into him on the Mall, I had managed to push him to the back of my mind. The memory of that night embarrassed me. We were different, too different. I mean, come on, this wasn’t going to have a fairy-tale ending. I was black, he was white. I was financially overstretched, while he was obscenely wealthy. He was ten years my senior, arrogant, and loads more experienced than me in every possible category I could think of. So why was I staring at his mouth and wishing things like race and wealth didn’t matter?

“Matt, I don’t—” I tried to get my words out, and that glimmer of hope and desire in his eyes faded. Matt turned his head away, staring out the windscreen with his jaw clenched tightly. He was such a great kisser though.

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