She scoffed and grabbed hor d'oeuvres from a passing waiter. Luis helped himself as well before continuing. “And don’t turn a shade of jelly green. It doesn’t match your blonde hair. And trust me, these women probably went under the knife and have the best doctors their families’ Euros can buy. Besides, your family is wealthier. I know this because your granddad and your uncle and father were mentioned in some article about some cancer drug. Plus, don’t forget you have glossy summer hair and eyes blue like glacial ice,” he said poetically while running his index finger through her hair.
Trisha shooed his hand away but she couldn’t help but smile at his compliments and sense of humour. “Luis, you see why I don’t want to be in the limelight? People will only notice you, be your friend or put you on a pedestal where you don’t belong because of superficial reasons. You’re a great friend but you don’t have to give me fake praises.”
Luis faced her, his expression suddenly serious. “Trisha, sometimes you need to stop thinking you’re less beautiful than these girls. Besides, your intelligent, honest, kind and these girls have nothing on you because you’re all-natural. So, my beautiful and amazing friend, cheers!” He raised his glass. She was about to toast him in return but a familiar face caught her attention.
Her eyes followed the movement of a tall, lean figure who walked in the room, his presence demanded attention. Matt wore a tailored Italian suit that, Trisha figured, probably cost more than what most people in London earn in a month. Plenty of female heads turned to gaze at the second eldest Warwick brother, the Spanish It girls were no exception. By his side was his almost equally gorgeous brother, Marcus.
The youngest Warwick scanned the room and immediately spotted Trisha and Luis. He waved at them and Luis instinctively waved back, looking more eager than Trisha would have been proud of. Matt followed his brother’s eyes and a smile formed on his sexy lips as soon as he spotted Trisha. Despite what she said and thought about him earlier, she smiled back, a rush of tingling feelings coursing through her veins.
Why does he have to look so good? she mused.
The brothers walked towards the duo. Marcus was the first to speak. “Hello, Luis. How’ve you been? Trisha, you look lovely as always.”
The brothers gave Trisha and Luis kisses on the cheeks. Trisha noticed Luis was blushing, wishing her friend could be more discreet about his crushes, but she knew that was too much to ask.
“I must say,” Luis declared, “Paula has amazing fashion sense.” Luis then detailed some of the points he liked in the current collection. Matt had his eyes on Trisha as she tried her best to appear nonchalant. She hoped her cheeks weren’t as pink as Luis’s.
“Yes, Paula definitely has good taste,” Marcus replied. “She’s marrying me.” Everyone laughed. Trisha was glad she wasn’t alone with Matt. Being in a group gave her a sense of security.
“Marcus, you haven’t changed a bit,” Luis said.
The youngest Warwick took a sip of his drink while raising an eyebrow, the Warwick thick and strong brow made the brothers’ eyes as sexy as making out in a luxury convertible parked at a beach in Monte Carlo. Matt, their father and the eldest brother all had the same appeal, Trisha thought.
“And why do you say that?” Marcus asked.
“You know you’re God’s gift to women and men,” Luis replied, making it sound like he was uttering public knowledge.
Trisha rolled her eyes and nudged her friend. “Luis, I didn’t realize you’re religious.” Everyone but Matt laughed. He smiled and continued to peer into her eyes, like he knew a secret she’d want to hear.
“Too bad Trisha didn’t think so,” Marcus commented, his tone full of jest.
“Oh, Marcus,” Trisha quipped, wanting to appear as casual as possible, despite her heart beating faster under Matt’s gaze. “Don’t fish for compliments.” She poked Marcus on one shoulder gently. “Besides, you’re the luckier one. Your fiancé is gorgeous and quite the talent. I like her plenty.” She meant it too. Marcus and Paula made such a lovely couple, and Paula’s charm came off as sincere.
Matt then decided to make his presence known. “Trish, enjoying yourselves?” He smiled at Luis but his eyes darted back to caress Trisha’s face, an appreciative smile on his lips.
“Yes, I am,” she replied, her tone light and cheerful.
‘No thanks to you’, she wanted to add but didn’t. She put a hand on her hip and pretended to scan the room, as if Matt’s eyes didn’t penetrate into her very soul.
“I’m surprised you got a day off for this,” Matt quizzed her.
Why is he being so tame and nice? she thought. She turned to him and answered, “No, I’m actually going back to work. I’ll need to work overtime just to catch up.” She took a gulp from her champagne flute, hoping to calm her nerves.
Matt shook his head, concern written on his face, the face that haunted her mind each day since she ran into him at the cafe. “You’ll overwork yourself. One day, mark my words, you’ll pay for it.”
“Yes,” Luis butted in. “Your skin will sag, you’ll look haggard, instead of the latest designer handbag you’ll have eye bags to tout around!”
Matt nodded. “Trisha had always been a go-getter. I remember how she preferred spending even her birthday at the library, while reading Tolstoy. She preferred that to kissing.”
Trisha shot him a look that could send any guy to hell and back, but this was Matthew Warwick, and he made it clear he could handle any attitude she threw his way. He didn’t look fazed, gentleness instead came over his features.
“But, seriously, Trish, you look tired. Take it easy.” His eyes held so much tenderness she wondered if he truly was worried for her. She felt a warm tug inside.
Suddenly, a few clicks from a couple of professional cameras interrupted their moment.
“Smile for the camera!” An obnoxious voice ordered.
Trisha and her group turned around and were accosted by the lights coming from the paparazzi’s cameras. Matt stepped in front of her, blocking the intruders. “I believe you’ve taken enough photos,” Matt said, his voice strong and full of authority.
Standing next to the photographers was none other than the salacious Edward Oman, the infamous gossip blogger they ran into at the tennis courts. He wore a bright yellow designer outfit that Trisha was sure cost a fortune, but it simply made him look like an expensive clown.
Edward sneered at the group. “Marcus, don’t you want to introduce us to your friends?”
Marcus cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse us, Edward, these are my friends and everyone would prefer if you tell your pack of hyenas to back off. These are private individuals who came here to support my fiancé’s work.“
Edward appeared nonplussed. He raised an eyebrow and pointed a manicured finger at Luis. “I don’t care for that one.”
Luis gave him a scathing gaze in return. The cameras stopped flashing but Edward wasn’t through insulting the group. “Hm, that girl. Same girl I met at the gym, if I’m not mistaken.” His voice was so annoying and high-pitched to Trisha’s ears.
“This is a fashion show, not a red carpet event.” Matt was almost growling, his eyes flashed, making them look a surreal shade of green. “People are having private conversations here. Leave us alone.”
“That’s Trisha James,” an unknown voice answered Edward’s intrusive questions.
“Trisha James,” Edward echoed. “For some reason, that name sounds awfully familiar.”
Trisha’s head was spinning. She wondered if the wine and the camera flashes were doing a number on her. This Edward fellow was certainly not helping calm her nerves. She put a hand up to touch her own forehead.
“Are you okay?” Matt asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.
“I’m fine, maybe I had too much champagne.”
“Trisha James! Right. I remember, she was the girl you dated back in university, am I right?” Edward probed.
Memories immediately came flooding back in Trish
a’s mind. Years earlier, Matt was seen coming out of a health club with her by his side. The paparazzi had a field day from the images they were able to capture then.
“Edward, seriously, how do you remember everything and where do you get this ridiculous information?” Matt retorted. He looked like he was ready to punch the gossip blogger. “That was ten years ago, and no Trisha James was not my girlfriend then, and she’s not my girlfriend now.”
The words stung and Trisha recoiled as if someone had just slapped her. More images from her past with Matt assailed her mentally.
Marcus stepped towards Edward. “Please, this is my fiancé’s fashion show. Can you not ruin it, for Pete’s sake? Or I’ll have you thrown out.”
Edward sneered some more. They were causing a scene and the blogger was obviously enjoying the commotion. Mia and the group of hotties with her walked towards the group, along with several other people. Curiosity was written on everyone’s face.
“What’s going on here?” a sultry female voice asked. Trisha turned to her right and saw her old friend Cristina, the schoolmate who regarded her with derision at the tennis courts.
Edward clearly knew the Spanish girl as well. He turned to her and asked, “Cristina! Do you know who Trisha James is?”
“No, I don’t. Should I?”
“Well, here she is,” Edward pointed at Trisha, malice written all over his skinny face. “Wasn’t she one of your friends from that Swiss boarding school?”
There was silence before Cristina finally replied, her voice thick with sarcasm, “That depends on your definition of ‘friend’. As far as I know, I don’t have a friend named Trisha James.” Cristina then turned to Mia and kissed the other girl on the cheeks, they started talking to each other in rapid Spanish.
Trisha remained silent, all she wanted to do was runaway. Matt’s arms had initially felt wonderful around her, but his words placed a knife in her heart, then Cristina’s comments hammered the weapon in. All the pain she tried to bury for so long wanted to come out. Acid came up her throat as painful emotions and memories welled up inside her. She stared at the floor, trying to tell herself that this was all just a nightmare.
Luis spoke for her. “Why would Trisha want friends like them?” He pointed at the women who were gossiping by themselves. “Trisha is nothing like them. Besides, Edward, don’t you have any integrity or any kindness in your bony frame?”
The other people left milling around the group were enjoying the little show, whispers and snickers came from all over. It seemed to Trisha that everyone in the room wanted a piece of drama.
Mia stopped chatting with Cristina and stepped closer to the group. “Matt,” she purred in a voice that sounded even more sultry than Cristina’s. “What’s going on here? The show is about to begin. Come sit with me.” She eyed him like a seductive Cheshire cat.
Edward wore a smirk on his face. “Does that mean you and Mr. Warwick are dating again?”
Mia flipped her long dark hair behind her tanned shoulders as she peered at Edward. “How can we be dating again if we never broke up? Come on, darling, the show is about to begin.” She laughed in an annoying tone, Trisha wanted to cover her own ears. Mia then linked an arm around Matt’s, clinging to him like a snake coiled over a tree.
“Okay, guys, show is over,” Luis declared, clapping his hands in the air. “Chop chop.”
Matt removed his arm from Trisha’s shoulder, allowing Mia to lead him away. Before he left, he whispered, “Sorry about this commotion, we didn’t realize these guys would even think that we—“ He didn’t get to finish as Mia aggressively pulled him away. He gave Trisha an apologetic look.
She refused to respond to his gaze and quickly looked away. She turned to Luis instead. “Where are you seated?” She forced herself to smile, pretending nothing happened. It just seemed like the classy and smart thing to do.
Luis linked her arm with his. “I’m seated next to Patrick.” Patrick was one of his friends from work. “I thought you said you had a date.”
“I never said that,” she replied, pretending to appear nonchalant even more. “Don’t be silly. Plus, I have to go back to work soon. I’ll sit at the back and leave before the show ends.”
Some date, huh, she thought, a searing pain in her chest. Trisha, you fool. Why would you ever think Matt wanted to take you to the fashion show? You’re nothing to him. You were nothing to him then, you’re nothing to him now. Better run as far as your Manolo heels will take you.
Feeling very humiliated, tears welled in her eyes. She mentally tried to block her emotions away while blinking rapidly and pretending to search for an imaginary item in her purse. She decided to skip the show. Without saying goodbye to Luis, she stepped out of the room. But not before someone snapped a picture of her.
Chapter 8
He turned my sadness into music, my pain transformed into rhythm. He tapped into my most private thoughts while he held me close to him, dancing with my soul. And, without warning, there was no greater feeling than moving with someone to the most beautiful rhythm, the beating of your own heart, no better joy than letting the rest of the world disappear.
Twelve Years Earlier
“Please Trisha, can’t you get Marcus to come out to Rooftop Gardens? I promise it’ll be smashing. But don’t tell him I asked him to come! Come on, you’re close friends, convince him to come,” Cristina spoke rapidly over the phone. The Spanish heiress was busy completing her degree in a fashion school based out of Central London. She had her hands full planning a party for the label where she was an intern.
Trisha laughed at her friend’s insistence. “Fine, fine. I’ll do my best, I promise.” After hanging up, Trisha texted Marcus, asking him to come out and play that night at Cristina’s event. How she wished with all her heart that Darcey and Luis were in London instead of Tulum where they worked as summer interns.
Marcus replied in less than five minutes: “Sure, as long as you come as my date. You know how much I’m in demand, I can’t be bothered to be taking anyone else home tonight.”
Trisha rolled her eyes. The Warwick brothers were known for breaking more than just a few hearts. The ambitious Leo, sexy Matt and cheeky Marcus graced the covers of magazines, gossip blogs and all other forms of media that covered British high society.
She picked up her phone and sent a reply, “Whatever”.
She had known them ever since they were little, although she didn’t get to see any of the brothers for several years after she turned twelve, right after her parents sent her off to a Swiss boarding school. Now in university, Trisha realized how the Warwicks were like celebrities in their own right, with a legion of female fans to boot.
She put her Nokia phone aside. It was time to get ready for the party she was starting to hate way before it even began. But since she hadn’t seen her friend Cristina, who spent most of her time in Madrid recently, Trisha was hoping to catch up with her good friend.
Later that evening, Trisha arrived at the party. The exclusive night club was the latest place to see the right people, and be seen with the right people, especially to those who cared about being a socialite. She couldn’t care less for the scene but was always willing to support her friends’ ventures.
As soon as she stepped out of the car, she could see the paparazzi were as greedy and desperate as ever. It was no surprise since Cristina earlier mentioned some of the people on the guest list included two football players and four Victoria’s Secret models. The bash was touted as the summer party of the year.
Dressed in a spaghetti-strapped white dress with an empire waist, Trisha walked to the main entrance, a long queue had formed. She headed straight to the VIP area and gave her name to the bouncer, ignoring the spiteful and envious stares coming from the girls waiting in line. Loud techno music assailed her ears as soon as she was inside the club.
She scanned the room, hoping to spot her friends. In the centre of the room, a large crowd of people were dancing to Usher’s latest hit. Trish
a wanted to puke, the hit was absolutely overplayed on the radio.
As she turned to walk up a flight of stairs in search of Cristina and her other friends, she spotted a tall, handsome figure dressed in a dark grey shirt that fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders. She realized it was Matt Warwick. And he wasn’t alone. Matt had a head-turning brunette dressed in a skimpy zebra-print dress by his side. His sultry date looked familiar to Trisha, some actress but she couldn’t place the name.
She paused at the steps, unable to peel her eyes off Matt and the girl. She saw him lean over to whisper something in the tart’s ear. His date laughed and they began to dance, his arm rested on the actress’s waist while a smile lingered on his lips. He was clearly having a good time.
Be Mine This Christmas: A Lovers in London Book Page 25