Читать книгу Confessions Of A Bad Bridesmaid - Jennifer Rae - Страница 12

FIVE

Olivia smiled again at one of the men in front of her. She had no idea what he was saying—or what his name was. There were two of them, and even though they were speaking English she couldn’t quite follow the conversation.

‘London is so not the thing at the mo. I mean, its totes obvs that Louise fancies me, but I just want to shop around, you know?’

‘Totes, man. Louise is just too blates anyway. You need to chuck her.’

‘Mmm. I’m thinking I might have to. What do you think, Livs?’

The blond man turned to her. For a second Olivia was dazzled by his bright white teeth.

‘I...’

‘That’s a hot dress you’re wearing, Livs.’

The dark-haired one had spoken. He was just about the prettiest man Olivia had ever seen. She’d spent a good five minutes just marvelling at the perfection of his skin.

‘Thanks...’

‘It’s not endangered, is it?’ The blond laughed at his own joke, then slung his arm around Olivia. ‘Only jokes, sweetheart. You’re the hottest girl in the room tonight. Here.’ He plucked a drink from the tray of a passing waiter. ‘Drink up. You’re falling behind.’

Olivia took a long sip. She glanced sideways at the blond, whose name she still wasn’t sure of. Chester? Hester? His arm stayed where it was. Possessively pulling her to him. Olivia shuffled a little to the left.

There was no doubt Chester/Hester was a handsome man. And he laughed a lot. He was friendly, and he included her in the conversation, but there was something about him. Something alarmingly predatory that made her body chill a little when he got too close. But she was finally being included. No one else had talked to her. The party was swirling all around her. These two had found her some champagne and asked her about Australia.

Fiona and Will were off talking to another round-vowelled relative and Olivia had avoided too many uncomfortable interactions. Except for when she’d met Will’s mother, a woman who stood silently most of the time. Her large brown eyes, surrounded by wrinkles and bags, and the defeated stance of her shoulders made her difficult to talk to. She’d answered Olivia pleasantly enough, but her answers had all been one word only.

Will’s father, on the other hand, was loud—and for some reason unreasonably angry. Everything Olivia said had landed her in trouble.

‘You have a lovely home, Mr Winchester.’

‘Are you saying I couldn’t have bought this myself? Just because I inherited it doesn’t mean I’m a lazy loafer.’

‘Will is a charming young man. Fiona is very lucky to have him.’

‘Why wouldn’t he be charming? We brought him up right—he has no reason to be anything but charming. What are you implying?’

After a few more minutes of that Olivia had escaped. She’d fallen to the back of the room and sipped more champagne alone until these two well-dressed men had approached her. She’d known enough men to know what they needed. Laugh at their jokes and bat your eyelashes. No matter what language you spoke, that always worked.

She was busy laughing at something else she couldn’t understand when a chill came over the group. The pretty men in front of her stopped laughing and they looked over her head. She knew what it was before she even turned. She could feel him. Looming. Watching. Judging.

‘Hello, Eddie.’

‘It’s Edward. Hello, Olivia. Casper. Hugo.’

The air had changed. A defiant prickle spread across the group. As if Edward was the headmaster and had caught them smoking behind the bike sheds.

‘Come to spoil the party, have you, Eddie? Are we being too loud?’ Olivia asked, feeling a little bold from the four glasses of champagne she’d drunk.

Edward’s eyes narrowed and he brought his hands up to clasp them in front of him. ‘Not at all. I was coming to see if you were all right.’ His eyes slipped over the two men by her side. ‘I wasn’t aware you two were on the invitation list this weekend.’

Chester/Hester/Casper tightened his grip around Olivia’s shoulder, where his arm still lingered. She almost lost her balance.

‘Wouldn’t miss it. Will Winchester getting hitched? It’s the talk of London.’

Edward’s eyes turned glacial. ‘I would put money on the fact that it’s not.’

‘It totes is, Edward,’ pretty Hugo piped up. ‘Party of the decade, apparently.’

‘Are you all right, Olivia?’

Edward’s eyes swivelled to Olivia before glancing at the large arm that was hanging over her shoulder, uncomfortably close to her right breast. Olivia didn’t dare move in case the hand brushed her nipple. She had been having fun with these two, but something deep inside her knew she didn’t want either of them to touch her nipple. But Edward had that look on his face. That haughty look that reminded her of Bunny. So she grabbed the hanging hand and held on to it.

‘These handsome boys are making me feel right at home.’

The champagne and the jet lag had taken hold. The bubbles danced and her words came out slightly slurred. She lost her footing a little and leaned into Casper, expecting his frame to hold her, but she must have surprised him because he stumbled and so did Olivia. Great—now Edward would think she was drunk. And she wasn’t. Yet.

‘Perhaps you could do with some air?’

‘She doesn’t need air. She’s perfectly all right here.’ Casper’s voice was an arrogant sneer. ‘Haven’t you got a cause to campaign for? Or some middle class nobodies to wrangle votes from, Winchester?’

She heard him snigger and wanted to throw him off. His comments irritated her and his palm had become sweaty. She loosened her hold but his fingers gripped her harder.

‘Why don’t you run along and get us another drink, Winchester? There’s a good lad.’

More laughs.

Olivia didn’t know Edward very well, but even with her limited knowledge she knew that was not the right thing to say to him. She watched his face transform. His eyes met those of the buffoon still clinging to her. His jaw twitched and he pushed his shoulders back.

‘You two are here because Bunny insisted. But if you cause any trouble this weekend I’ll have both of you dipped in honey and stuffed in a beehive before dragging you back to London behind my father’s John Deere. Do you understand?’

Chester/Hester/Casper went stiff before he withdrew his hand.

‘Someone’s got their period...’ Casper’s voice didn’t sound as confident as before.

Edward took a menacing step forward, a vein now throbbing in his neck. ‘Get out of here. And I don’t want to see your ugly mugs for the rest of the weekend.’

* * *

Casper and Hugo threw Edward a dark look before turning and moving away.

‘What did you do that for?’ Olivia turned to Edward. His face had returned to the impassive mask he usually wore.

‘Seems they weren’t that interested in you after all. Didn’t put up much of a fight, did they?’

Olivia felt the bubbles fizz in her brain again. No, they hadn’t. One look at Edward’s angry face and they’d fled. But that was what men normally did, whether there was an Edward there or not. She turned to watch the crowd with a deep sigh. She had a habit of intriguing people for all of five minutes. Then—somehow—they always ran away. Even Fiona—her best friend in the whole world—had abandoned her when someone better came along.

She looked up at Edward but he was watching the crowd, his hands clasped behind his back. Looking like the pious goody-two-shoes he was.

‘Couldn’t wait to dob on me to your sister, could you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

His dark eyes swivelled her way and she met them.

‘She had a go at me for being late. Then she insulted my dress.’

He turned to survey the crowd. ‘Bunny has a habit of saying what pops into her head. You should try and ignore her.’

‘This family seems awfully good at that. Ignoring people. Before you came and broke up the party those two were the only ones being friendly to me.’

‘Those two were being friendly for one reason only.’ His voice lowered an octave and became hard.

‘I’m not stupid, Edward. I know exactly what type of men those two are. I’ve been rejected by enough men to know what they want. Or what they don’t want. But sometimes it’s better to have someone rather than no one.’

‘You’d rather be with those thickheads, who are plying you with alcohol in the hope you’ll fall over and flash your knickers at them, than be alone? You mustn’t think much of yourself.’

‘I’d rather laugh and talk to “those thickheads” than stand here being insulted by the biggest thickhead of all.’

‘Yet you remain.’

Olivia turned to the room full of people, not seeing any of them. Edward was annoying and frustrating and rude. But he didn’t want to get in her pants. So the only reason he was standing there talking to her was because he wanted to stand there and talk to her. Somehow that put her at ease. It felt strangely comfortable, being with someone she knew she had no chance with. She didn’t have to perform; she could just be...herself. The idea was freeing.

She breathed in deeply and let it out loudly.

‘I know what people think of me, Edward.’ She glanced at him, wondering what he thought of her for a second.

Edward just stood silently next to her. Solid and strong. Not touching her, not wanting anything from her.

‘I’m looking for a man.’ She felt Edward stiffen beside her but still he said nothing. ‘Don’t worry, you’re not my type. Too judgy, too cold, too...’

She looked up at him and he turned to face her. She took in his wide jaw and his very dark eyes. Like pools of dark chocolate. Deep and warm and luxuriously soft. A girl could get lost in those eyes and never find her way out. His jaw twitched as he looked down at her. His face looked as if it had been carved from stone, and he was so tall and broad and...

‘Too handsome.’

He coughed and looked away.

‘I prefer someone less...I don’t know...’ She tried to find the right word. ‘Intimidating.’

‘A weak man who’ll put up with your nonsense and bend over when you tell him to?’

‘No. A sweet, sensitive man who’ll love me unconditionally. A kind, gentle soul who needs me.’

‘A pushover.’

Olivia gave him the hardest look she could. ‘You are a cynical man, Edward Winchester. And you don’t have a romantic bone in that great big—’ surprisingly lean and muscular ‘—body of yours.’

A waiter walked past and she reached out to grab another glass of champagne, downing it in one long sip. All the time, Edward watched her.

‘Life is not a romance novel, Olivia. It’s about work and responsibility and doing what you’re supposed to.’

Olivia sighed again. She knew that. She knew it. But she wished life was like a romance novel. She wished there was someone—anyone—who would be willing to love her despite her faults. But she knew that was impossible.

They stood silently, largely ignored by the milling crowd.

‘I know,’ she said suddenly. ‘Why don’t you help me?’ Another waiter wandered past and Olivia grabbed another glass. ‘You seem the type to think things through. Weigh up the alternatives. Make sensible decisions. Maybe you can figure out why everyone always leaves me.’