Page 184 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2
“A quick errand. Be back in a tick.”
Ignoring the volley of questions he lobbied at my back, I flashed another bright smile at Gloria as I hurried through the reception and left my building. Wait, let me amend that. It was nowMatt’sbuilding. Oh, the mortgage was held under my name, and even though thefuckerhad cleared the remaining substantial balance (yeah, anonymous third party my ass!) the building was still technically owned by me, but I was no fool. This was the Machiavellian manoeuvrings of a man intent on destroying me. How did he plan on delivering the blow? Would he threaten to take a claim of interest in my property under the iffy law of ‘implied trust’? Fuck. It wasn’t iffy, seeing as he had just cleared the whole bloody balance. Millions of pounds. The building was worth millions on the market. The bulk of my inheritance had been used as a down payment those years ago. Geoffrey had sorted it all out for me, and now it was mortgage free thanks to my devious husband. Why? I was going to kill him no doubt.
Or perhaps he planned on using my building as a bargaining chip when we legally filed for divorce? Forgo any financial settlement andmy building would be safe from his grubby hands. Not that I wanted a single cent from him. Where would we go if he somehow managed to take my premises from me? Why? Why would he do this? It was bad enough he had literally fucked me over that weekend two months ago. Now he was doing it again, except this time he was screwing with my life. My livelihood. My dreams. No, no, no, no. No one was going to mess with my money.
The drive through traffic did ease my murderous urgings. Google helped too, as my calls to Geoffrey went straight to answer phone and the internet searches for legal advice did throw up a few nuggets. Was it daunting he was known for his ruthlessness when it came to business? Of course it was, but I was a woman on the edge of watching her dreams fall into nothing. I could be ruthless also. I could be the cold-hearted businesswoman he always said I should be.
No one, not even the great Matthew Bradley, was going to mess with my fucking money….
“Mrs Bradley.” Rachel was on her feet and moving with purpose towards me. The professional but cold smile upon her face did not dissuade me.
“Rachel,” I greeted in a tone that matched her smile. Frigid.
The pass held tightly in my grip proved I meant business. Reception and the security staff downstairs had fallen under the trap of my innocent face and sweet assurances Matt was expecting me. I was still his wife after all, and it had gotten me almost to my goal.
“Reception advised me of your arrival,” she continued, blatantly blocking my way. “You and I both know you’re not expected.”
“Where is he?” I asked.
“I must insist you turn around and leave before I have you escorted off the premises.” Rachel threatened.
My lips split in a chiding smile. “Really? And risk an embarrassing scene? I think not. We both know that isn’t going to happen. Now where is he?” I looked past her shoulders, down the empty and silent hallway of the executive floor. Matt’s office was around that corner.
“Mr Bradley is in a meeting-”
I quickly side-stepped her, tossing over my shoulder as I hurriedaway, “Sure he is.”
“Mrs Bradley.” Rachel had on heels, my feet were sneakers-clad. She didn’t stand a chance.
The door to Matt’s office was closed. I pushed it open, ready for him; only he wasn’t in there.
“Mrs Bradley!” Rachel was within the required distance to nab me and I remembered she was from Manchester. A Northern bird who didn’t mess around. A Mancunian. They were not the sort of people you wanted to antagonize. An unfounded generalization? Maybe, but I wasn’t sticking around to find out. Jerking back from her outstretched hand, I jogged down the hallway, opening doors on my way and unrepentantly hissing sorry if someone was in there.
Then I spotted the glass conference room and my eyes narrowed into feral slits as Matt’s completely recognizable suit-wearing frame stood in front a table full of seated men. Bastards. Where were the female executives? Once I was finished with him, I would report them all for failing to pursue equality in the workplace at the top level.
“Mrs Bradley,please.” Rachel’s desperate plea was close, I had unconsciously drawn to a stop upon seeing Matt.
Gripping the strap of my bag across my shoulder, I stormed towards the room like a vengeful goddess determined to right the wrong done to her. He would rue the day.
“Hi honey,” I gushed with a saccharine breeziness when the door crashed open and everyone turned in my direction. Matt’s face was a picture. I committed it to memory for future amusement, right now I was too mad to enjoy his startled wide eyes and mouth hanging open. “We need to talk. Right now.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as everyone’s gazes immediately went to Matt. He was still staring at me in shock, then his incredulous gaze went behind me to fixate on Rachel. Uh oh. The surprised expression suddenly turned to one of barely restrained fury. I actually heard her gulp. It sounded loud and painful.
“I am so sorry, Mr Bradley,” she rushed to explain as one of her hands landed on my shoulder.
I shrugged her off before she got a good grip and strode towards the son of a bastard who was my husband. A firm hand caught my arm and I turned in outrage even as that hand yanked me around.Oww.
Adam. Another frigging Bradley. He had grabbed my arm and was now standing up while maintaining a vice-like hold on me.
“Get your bloody hand off me.” I commanded in a dark tone.
“How dare you barge into here?” He pushed his chair back, the movement caused him to jerk my arm once more, or maybe he intended to do that. “Have you lost your blasted mind?” He tugged hard, turning sideways to scowl at Rachel. “You’d better get her out of here or you’ll be seeking employment elsewhere by the end of today!”
My eyes popped right open and I glared at his thick meaty fingers wrapped around the sleeve of my coat, squeezing the flesh of my arm underneath the material.
Then I twisted my head in Matt’s direction. The expression on his face this time…at least it seemed directed at his brother instead of Rachel or me. He closed the distance between us within a few long strides.
