Читать книгу Confessions Of A Bad Bridesmaid - Jennifer Rae - Страница 11

FOUR

Olivia threw off her coat and tried to form a coherent sentence in her mind as she waited for Edward. She tried to stay calm, but calm was not something she did well. Particularly not when her best friend had just burst into tears.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure of your exclusive company?’

Edward’s silky voice announced his arrival as he strode into the room. Olivia burned. Who the hell did these people think they were? Edward placed a hand on the floral sofa in front of him and challenged her with his eyes.

‘Believe me, it’s no pleasure. You need to tell your family to back the hell off.’

‘Excuse me?’

Edward raised an eyebrow. Just one. Olivia’s stomach jumped. Angrily she ignored it.

‘Your family are being mean to Fiona and you need to make them stop.’

An irritating smirk slashed across Edward’s square face. ‘They’re being “mean” to her? What is she—in nursery school? Fiona will need to learn to fight if she’s to survive in this family.’

Olivia felt her neck go hot. Being mean to someone for no reason was her pet hate. Actually, her absolute hate. She’d been the victim of mean girls for many years and it had almost broken her. It wasn’t going to happen to her best friend. Not now. Not ever.

‘I don’t know who you lot think you are, but if you and your toffy pals continue to be mean to my friend I will pack our things and leave.’

There. She’d said it. To his snobby face. Be mean to her friend and face the consequences.

* * *

Edward blinked. There was a fire blazing at the end of the room and fire in the eyes of the woman in front of him. He’d shed his coat and scarf but he felt uncomfortably warm.

‘I beg your pardon?’

Olivia paced slowly towards him. Her long, tanned, muscular legs were moving slowly and seductively, and he had to push down the spray of moisture that had just landed in his mouth and cling to the chaise longue in front of him. Her eyes were intent on him and her chin was down. She swayed and sashayed deliberately, without smiling, until she was right in front of him—her head reaching just underneath his chin.

‘I said we will leave.’

But Edward didn’t hear her. All he could concentrate on was her heavy eyelashes and those golden breasts that rose and fell so heavily. He hadn’t seen the full effect of that lurid purple dress before. Her tanned skin glowed against the bright colour in the soft light. She brought her hands up to her hips and he wanted to shift—to move and make himself a little more comfortable—but he didn’t. He just stared down at her, his hands lightly clasped behind his back.

‘You are not obliged to stay. If my family and I are so offensive to you I can call you a taxi. Or perhaps you’d prefer to walk.’

He let his gaze slide across her face and down her neck to take in the jut of her collarbones and that lovely chest of hers. Then he moved his eyes further south, roaming past the curve of her hip, her flat stomach, and down to those long, shapely legs. Strong legs that could wrap around a man’s neck. His eyes lingered on her painted toenails, peeping out from that pair of very high-heeled shoes, and then he drew his eyes back up to meet hers again.

The woman had a body on her. And a sharp tongue. He wasn’t used to that. The women he knew were usually softer, gentler. But there was nothing gentle about Olivia Matthews. She was hard. Fast. And made of ice. He was immediately intrigued.

‘Livvie, are you coming?’ The lilting voice of Fiona called from the doorway.

The femme fatale in front of him dropped her focus and turned to her friend.

‘Come on, Livvie. Will is dying to introduce you to everyone.’ Fiona sounded nervous.

Olivia—or Livvie as her silly friend insisted on calling her—looked back at him, her eyes hard. He smiled again, which seemed to irritate her more as she stepped closer. So close he could smell her. Cinnamon and something sweet. Peaches...

‘I haven’t finished with you.’

‘I shall be awaiting your return with shivering anticipation.’

She huffed again. A sound he found equal parts irritating and charming. Then she turned and left, her little friend pulling on her arm and whispering in her ear.

Edward let a laugh escape. If nothing else, she was fun. Even if she did make his shoulders pull a little tighter. He strode to the fireplace and let it warm him up. The woman was trying, but at least for once he was feeling something. His usual diet of blank nothingness was becoming a little tiresome. Perhaps this weekend wouldn’t be as bad as he’d initially thought. Perhaps it would allow him to feel a little before he headed back to the real world. Grey and dull and solid.

He held that thought up like a beacon, secretly hoping that the grey and dull didn’t take too long to return.

* * *

‘Well, this must be the best friend.’

Olivia had been whisked into a very warm room filled with bodies. A slew of faces and names had passed by her and she remembered none of them. Her blood was still burning from her encounter with the cold man in the other room. Those dark eyes of his had turned hard when she’d threatened him. She suspected he wasn’t used to being stood up to.

Olivia turned to the female voice talking to her and smiled.

‘That’s me.’ She held out her hand for the young woman in front of her to shake. ‘You must be Phoebe.’

Fiona had pointed out Will’s sister when they’d walked in. She wasn’t very tall, but Phoebe Winchester had a presence. Her hair was streaked with blonde, as if she’d just spent two weeks in the Spanish sunshine, and it was casually tied into a knot on top of her head. But somehow it seemed impossibly elegant at the same time. She had dark eyes, like Edward, and a pretty smile revealing a set of white teeth. She looked like a girl you’d want to be friends with.

‘I’ve heard so much about you—Olivia, isn’t it?’ Olivia smiled back but noticed the quick glance Phoebe made at her legs. Phoebe was dressed in a pair of white pants and a gorgeous silk embroidered top. Olivia felt underdressed and a little exposed beside her.

‘You can call her Bunny, Liv. All her friends call her Bunny.’ Will put his arm around Olivia and squeezed. Phoebe’s—or Bunny’s—smile faltered.

‘Yes. Do,’ she said, her eyes flickering over Olivia’s hair.

Olivia was starting to feel uncomfortable. Bunny made no more attempts at conversation, just said something to Will that Olivia didn’t catch and laughed loudly. Fiona had said Will’s family had been making her feel uncomfortable but she hadn’t mentioned Will’s sister. She’d said Will’s sister was the only one being nice.

‘You must be excited about the wedding,’ Olivia attempted.

Bunny’s dark eyes swivelled again to Olivia. ‘Of course. We all thought Will here was a confirmed batch. More girlfriends than a sheikh.’

Olivia’s shoulders stiffened. But then Bunny smiled and let out an easy laugh.

‘But he’s found a great girl in Fiona. I couldn’t be happier for him.’

Fiona was smiling at Bunny as if she were a block of chocolate come to life. Olivia hesitated. Bunny seemed fun, and she was very pretty and she laughed a lot, but the way she held on to Will possessively and the way she turned her back a little to leave Olivia and Fiona out of the conversation reminded her a little too much of her sister’s friends.

‘That’s a fabulous dress, Olivia.’ Her eyes met Olivia’s. ‘I didn’t know feathers were back in.’

A cold clamp stilled in Olivia’s chest. It wasn’t what Bunny had said. It was the way she’d said it.

‘I thought it was a bit of fun.’

Bunny smiled and then let out a muffled giggle. ‘Oh, it’s certainly that.’ She gripped Will’s arm and smiled manically at Olivia. ‘Perhaps we could find you a comfy tree to roost in tonight?’ The laugh that was on the tip of her lips came out as a snort.

‘Bunny, be nice.’

Will’s serious reprimand only made Olivia feel worse. She looked around. Everyone was dressed in pants. Or long skirts. No one else was wearing a feather and sparkle-encrusted mini-dress. No one except her. She felt as she had when she was thirteen and her sister’s friends had dressed her up for the school disco. They’d teased her hair high and streaked blue eye shadow all over her eyelids. They’d assured her it was the latest ‘look’. But it hadn’t been and she’d been the laughing-stock of the school for the next six months.

A waiter walked past, his tray laden with glasses of champagne. Olivia swiped one and drank it down in one gulp. Defending her best friend from mean girls she could do. But when it came to defending herself...? That was proving to be much harder.

Bunny was still looking at her, waiting for her to respond. A hot rash crept up her chest. It was as if her sister’s friends were in the room—pointing and laughing and making her feel inadequate.

So Olivia did what she always did when she felt inadequate. She made excuses. ‘I had to get changed in the car. It was the first dress I could find.’

‘Perhaps if you’d been on time you would have been able to find something more...appropriate.’ Bunny laughed again and Will shushed her, but she swatted at his arm.

‘It’s all right, Will. Olivia’s a big girl—she can take it.’ Bunny sipped her own champagne before winking at Fiona and calling out to someone over the din and disappearing in the crowd.

‘Liv, forget Bunny—’ Will placed his hand on Olivia’s arm but she shook it off.

‘It’s OK, Will. I’m fine. I know she was only joking.’

But the truth was Olivia felt as if she’d been slapped. First across one cheek—that pompous Edward Winchester had obviously tattled to his sister that she hadn’t been at the airport when he’d gone to pick her up—and then across the other when the mean girl had called her dress inappropriate.

She’d been worrying about what to wear to this weekend party for weeks. She’d wanted to look nice, make an impression. Stand out. She’d wanted to look her best but she’d obviously got it wrong and just looked stupid.

Through the crowd she spotted the tall frame of Edward, who happened to turn her way right at that moment. A half-smile touched his lips and he nodded. Shame, embarrassment and humiliation washed over her. He was laughing at her. With his sister and probably everyone else. This was not going to be the weekend she’d envisioned. This was going to be the worst weekend of her life.

A perfectly dressed waiter walked by and she plucked another tall glass of champagne from his tray. There was only one way to survive this weekend. And that was to drink copious amounts of ridiculously expensive French champagne.