Page 157 of Lovers' Dance

My eyes widened. Oh shi—

“Ow!” I yelled in shock as my ass was the recipient of a leather-induced smack.

“That’s number one, MSG,” Bret stated without remorse as I spun around to face him, hand rubbing my stinging butt. He slung the belt around his neck and grinned at me. He, too, was bare-chested like Dante, wearing slacks and barefoot. I scowled at him, still rubbing my butt. Under normal circumstances, if a skinny white man took a belt to an inebriated black woman, things would’ve gotten dead real, dead fast. But Bret was my people, and this was a tradition—a dumb one, but tradition, nonetheless.

“Why don’t you give me them all right now?” I grumbled, sidestepping him and making my way to the coffee machine. Marie-Sol chuckled and Dante resumed eating.

“Ow!” I yelped again as the belt landed on my other cheek.

“That’s two.” Bret held the belt in his hand and blew me a kiss. “Twenty-five to go, MSG.”

“Freak,” I said, making sure my back was facing the other way. I needed pants on fast. But I needed coffee more.

The weekend was a blur. Friday was spent taking Bret and Marie-Sol to the sights of London. Friday night was hitting the pubs.

Saturday, Dante and I took them to the dance studio for a bit, then out for lunch. Saturday night, we slammed the clubs.

And yesterday. Ah yesterday. We did shopping, then came home, changed and went to this cool bohemian bar with live music and delicious cocktails. We ended up on stage, jamming like we owned the place. The owners tolerated it as the band they hired wasn’t that good, and we played for free. The patrons loved it, and we were high as kites.

Today was Monday, my birthday. After my much-needed shower, I was going to tape a bottle of whiskey to my hand the way Marie-Sol had taped my mouth shut on stage last night to ensure I didn’t start singing in my chemically altered state.

If Aunt Cleo saw what I’d been getting up to, she’d flip, then bust my ass while yelling, “I told you to act right. We’re going to church to get some Jesus in you.” Hell, she might bust my ass anyway. She had called over the weekend, and I couldn’t remember what the conversation was about. Same thing with Matt. I knew I had spoken to him every day since Thursday night but, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what we spoke about. I would worry about it later. Right now, I needed coffee and my arepita. Scratch that. I forwent the coffee and picked up a half-drunk bottle of rum.

“MSG.” Bret was eyeing myarepita. When he reached for it, Marie-Sol smacked his hand away. “It’s only nine thirty.”

“And?” I asked sourly, raising the bottle to my lips as they watched silently. They hid the worry in their eyes well, they were used to this yearly occurrence. After a deep glug and a coughing episode, I walked over to the table and took a seat. “It’s called ‘hair of the dog’, Bret. It’s what we English do for a hangover.”

“Give me some of that hair of the dog then,” he said, pushing my plate towards me and simultaneously prying the bottle from my hand. He took a small sip and, instead of handing the bottle back, he put it well out of my reach as Marie-Sol sent him a thankful look. I ignored them and started to eat.

“Mmm,” I mumbled as my alcohol-drowned taste buds experienced something else for the first time in hours. There was an orgasm taking place in my mouth. “Oh my God…mmm…Sol, this is the best…mmm.”

“I’ll make you another if you eat all of that one,” she promised, and I nodded eagerly. Breakfast, shower, then drink and make brownies. My day was planned. Happy freaking birthday to me.

SEVENTEEN

MATT FROWNED SLIGHTLY at his loyal secretary as she ran through the list of meetings scheduled for today. Last night had been a late one. The dinner party he’d planned for Madi had still occurred, just without her.

“And you’re expected to speak to the finance department at four thirty, Mr Bradley.”

His frown deepened. “Reschedule that meeting for tomorrow, Rachel. Adam and I need to assess some reports first.”

“Yes, Mr Bradley. Is there anything else?” she asked, tablet in hand and busily tapping on the screen.

“No, Rachel. Thank you.”

He turned his attention to the papers in front of him as she left his office, but didn’t see the words.

Madi. He was worried about her. Each subsequent conversation since Thursday night had increased his concern, so much so that he was actually toying with the idea of stopping by to check on her.

But she’d been quite clear. She didn’t want to see him until Friday. It was her birthday today. How could she expect him to stay away? To not see her on this special day? Bloody hell. The woman was driving him mad. It didn’t help she was practically incoherent every time they spoke.

Matt sighed and tried to focus on the day ahead. He would bide his time. Friday would arrive soon enough, and he would be having stern words with her about her current behaviour. It was simply unacceptable.

By midday he’d managed to push all thoughts of her to the back of his mind. The intense board meeting he’d left played a huge role in that.

“Matt,” Nathan called, making him pause and turn around.

“Yes?”

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