Confessions of a Bad Bridesmaid (3 page)

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.

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.’