Lovers' Dance (51 page)

“Poppet,” he finally said as the lights changed. Amusement started to leak into his grey orbs, replacing that clinical look. “Sometimes I wonder what goes through that head of yours. Auction you off? How utterly ridiculous.”

“What do you expect me to think?” I rallied, feeling a tad foolish. Speaking without thinking was a bad trait to have. “A late night auction? Whereabouts unknown? Crazy gazillionaire? I read the news, you know. Stuff like that could happen. Nathan could keep it out of the news, keep my disappearance secret.” I continued to explain my previous silly comment. Should I stop digging the hole now?

Matt shook his head and sent me a sidelong amused glance. “Why don’t we have quiet time, poppet? Just don’t speak for a while.”

I shot him a glare as the back of the car erupted into laughter, then the corners of my mouth curled in a smile. He grabbed my hand and rested it on his leg. It was a strange thing between us, strange and comforting. The constant need to touch whenever we were in close proximity.

“Okay, Mr Bradley,” I teased. “I’ll keep my big mouth shut until we get wherever we’re going.”

“Wise choice, poppet,” Matt agreed, then licked his lips as I stroked his thigh lightly.

The car descended into a relaxed silence as Matt drove. It didn’t take us long to hit Central London. I lived in Greenwich, Zone 2. Central London was Zone 1, and I loved being close to where the action was.

There was traffic on the road, even at this time, and Matt peered at his watch.

“What time are you going in to the studio tomorrow, poppet?” Matt asked, breaking the silence with his casual question.

“Seven-ish.” I replied. “Why?”

“After the auction, I’ve arranged for a boat ride on the Thames. I don’t want to keep you out too late.”

Boat ride on the Thames at night? I could live with the lack of sleep. I beamed like a kid who found out Santa was their long-lost great-uncle, and he was coming for a visit with his sack of toys.

“It’s safe to assume from your expression that you’re okay with that,” Matt said dryly.

I nodded. This was going to be a great date as long as I didn’t get injured on the boat, and Matt wasn’t planning on selling me to the highest bidder at this secret auction.

To hell with Grumps and his five C’s personality. I was riding the Matt train for as long as my ticket allowed...

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“This is cool, Matt,” I whispered as he gripped my waist to ensure I didn’t fall in my heels. I could’ve mentioned that I was a ballerina, balance was my business, but it was nice having him hold me close.

“Why are you whispering, poppet?” Matt asked as we followed Nathan and Bella down the stairs.

“Because…I don’t know. It’s all Bond-like.”

Matt shook his head as we made our way down. He had made only one request of me on arrival: that I keep the location secret. I promised I would, feeling like a spy. All I needed was a change of clothes…mmm, leather, perhaps. And hidden weapons. Madison DuMont, secret agent extraordinaire.

“It’s like we work for the CIA or MI5,” I continued in a hushed voice. “Can you imagine meeting here for secret missions? I wonder if this area was ever used for something like that. Is it MI5 or MI6?”

Matt shook his head again and tightened his grip on my waist. “Doubtful, poppet, and MI5 deals with protecting the UK, its citizens and interests at home or oversees against threats to national security, while MI6 gathers intelligence outside the UK in support of the government’s security, defence and foreign and economic policies. Trust me, there have been no secret meetings down here.”

“How do you know?” I scoffed.

Matt smiled at me. “Because I have connections. Be careful on the last few steps, please.”

I paused in my descent, eyeing him suspiciously. An image of my mantle clock flashed before my eyes—an image of a surveillance camera hidden inside it.

“What do you mean?” One hand on my hip. “You have connections? What sort of connections?”

He chuckled and tugged me lightly. “I can’t talk about it, and I can’t tell you why,” he responded, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Idiot. But I eyed him with slight caution as we took the last few steps down.

“For a man of your age, you are full of shit, Matt,” I finally said, then fell silent as my eyes wandered around the disused tube station in awe. I’d been to Aldwych Underground Station once, a branch of the Piccadilly Line. It was a great tourist spot, although not open most of the time. This particular secret, disused station had been remodelled. How on earth had they done this without people knowing about it? What about building permits? Didn’t TfL own all of London’s underground travel systems? I mean, we travellers paid for around ninety percent of their operational expenditures, damned expensive Travelcards and Oyster. Had they sold this area to some wealthy eccentric? Made a quick buck while us average Joes got a teeth-grinding increase in fares every year? Damn it. I was going to boycott the Underground.

Money. You can do anything if you have enough money.

“Poppet?” Matt leaned down, a concerned look on his face. “What’s wrong? Why are you scowling?”

I smoothed my face into a pleasant mask and shrugged as I observed numerous well-dressed people socializing, laughing, drinking.

“I’m fine, hon,” I murmured as he was spotted by a small group of people who immediately started in our direction. “This is something. Really something.”

He beamed at me. “I’m glad you like it, poppet. We hold these auctions every few months—”

“Is it illegal?” I interrupted. What happened to Sotheby’s? Or Christies? And Bonham’s? Or the other top auction houses where people with too much money purchased ridiculously expensive things you’d normally find in museums? Why were we under the streets of London in an architecturally redone disused tube station? Oh God.

“Matt, I swear if you auction me off, I’ll kick you in the balls.” My crazy assumption didn’t seem that crazy now.

Matt burst out in laughter, so loud quite a few heads swivelled around to check out what the fuss was about.

“You’re insane,” he managed to wheeze out, face red and eyes watering a bit. “Oh, sweetheart, you do make me laugh. Everything is above board, just a small gathering of like-minded people who wish to add to their private collections.”

The group of people were almost upon us. Nathan and Bella were exchanging handshakes and air kisses with them.

“Just so you know,” I whispered self-righteously. “If I see stolen artwork, I’m reporting it. There’s a register, you know, you can check these things. I was raised to do the right thing. I don’t want to turn you and your rich friends in, but I will.”

My warning didn’t have the effect I was hoping for. Matt’s gaze softened and he reached up to tuck one of my curls tenderly behind my ear. He saw the group approaching us and he leaned in to whisper, “You’re crazy, poppet, and I love every single thing about you. Even the fact you’re willing to give me up to the police.”

I leaned back, eyes narrowed warily. Matt had that mushy look on his face and my heart went into overdrive.

“I would try my best to leave you out of it.” I glanced over at the group. “You and Bella. Nathan’s getting told on.”

Matt straightened up and an aloof mask slid over his face as he slipped his large hand over mine. The group of people were in front of us.

“Matt Bradley.” A tall, thin man dressed in tweed—seriously, tweed—held a hand out as his eyes travelled over me. “Glad you could make it tonight.”

“Richard.” Matt pumped the man’s hand up and down a few times. “I wouldn’t miss any of your auction nights. This is my date, Madison DuMont.”

Richard, tweedy Richard, turned to me and held his hand out. I shook his unnaturally soft hand with a distracted smile on my face.

Date?
I was just a date?
Why hadn’t Matt introduce me as his girlfriend?

“Charmed,” Richard said as I dropped his hand. He motioned to Matt and stepped closer to my date. What was that about? Had I been demoted for tonight? Matt and his stupid dating rules. The man made no sense, no sense at all.

“I’ve managed to find the items you were interested in, Matt.”

Matt arched an eyebrow at Richard. His thumb had begun a slow caress over the skin on my hand. Nice.

“And instead of arranging a private sale for me, you decided to put it up for auction?” Matt’s arched eyebrow indicated annoyance, but his tone was amused.

Richard must have heard the amusement in Matt’s voice, and he must have known him well, because he shrugged with a devilish look on his face and said, “Not me, personally, but the seller.”

Matt didn’t laugh, even though I knew he wanted to. I knew him pretty well.
But why was I only a date?
Maybe I didn’t know the inner workings of Matt’s mind as well as I thought I did.

“Ah, of course,” Matt agreed with a smirk. “The fault lies with the seller.”

Richard nodded, a deadpan expression on his features, but his eyes screamed slyness. “The best price is being sought, Matt, and you are well-known for your impressive negotiation skills. If the seller knew you were interested, I’m sure no matter what figure was agreed for the item, they would’ve felt as if you got one over on them.”

“True,” Matt mused, eyes scanning the crowds, while I fidgeted by his side. I should’ve wrapped bandages around my toes. Throbbing with pain was a good explanation of what was currently taking place in my heels.

“Looks like things are about to kick off.” Matt tilted his head at me. “Shall we find seats?”

“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.