Home > The Taming of the Billionaire (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #2)(37)

The Taming of the Billionaire (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #2)(37)
Author: Jessica Clare

Kat shook her head, her brown ponytail bobbing. She was dressed in a green schoolgirl costume that looked like something from an anime. “It’s a shame that her injury has made her so bitter and unpleasant.”

Gretchen just laughed. “Uh, you do not know Edie very well, do you? Her flawlessness was born to her. She can cut a basic bitch down to size from across a room. It has nothing to do with her leg. She’s always been like that.” She gave a small sigh. “And that’s why I adore her.”

From her hiding spot, Edie smiled to herself. It wasn’t the first time people had assumed she’d become a bitch because of her leg injury. It wasn’t the case. She’d always been impatient with others and quick to judge. Having the leg injury just made her slightly less patient with stupidity than normal. And she was about to tell Kat she could go fuck herself, but stopped.

This was Gretchen’s night. Even she wasn’t enough of a bitch to destroy the engagement party by throwing down with one of the other bridesmaids over an offhand comment. She downed her champagne, set the glass on a nearby rose-covered table, and decided to find someplace else to hide.

Buchanan Manor had a lovely set of terraced patios covered with potted plants of all kinds and a few artistic stone benches. Several sets of doors to one of the larger party halls had been opened to allow guests to explore the patio, and more of the small, sparkly lights strung overhead glimmered, creating a lovely effect outside. There was a chill in the air, though, and so the patio wasn’t very populated . . . which suited Edie just fine. She suspected her pirate costume was warmer than a lot of the other costumes. Other than Gretchen and her very-pregnant sister, most of the women were dressed in skimpy costumes that required a bit of a silky dress and not much else. She’d seen a slutty-looking Cookie Monster stroll past and it made her wonder how someone thought that was appropriate for an engagement party. When you were sexy, though, you could get away with a lot, Edie supposed. She sat down on a bench between two potted evergreens and removed her peg leg, then rubbed her knee. Six years ago, she’d have probably been dressed as a slutty Cookie Monster herself, she thought wistfully. Nah. She’d probably have been a slutty Oscar the Grouch. That was more her style.

Someone in bright blue and yellow walked past one of the windows, and her attention automatically turned there, attracted by the colors. A man was dressed as a football player, his ass encased in tight shiny pants, pads highlighting muscular thighs that needed no additional definition. His calves were sculpted perfection, and his butt was like two perfect globes of muscle that flexed when he shifted his weight. The blue and gold of his costume was ridiculously bright, but he carried it well enough. She studied the broad back and the massive shoulder pads as the man in the helmet talked with a pretty blonde slutty Strawberry Shortcake. The back of the jersey read WARRIOR across the shoulders and 01 as the number.

She stared at the jersey, not comprehending, as the pink-masked Strawberry Slutcake leaned forward and grabbed the football player’s athletic supporter. Well, damn. The party hadn’t been going on for long and already the football player was scoring. Ha.

Edie’s eyes widened in horror as the football player turned slightly and she could clearly see a familiar profile and a pair of green-gold eyes. Shit. That was Magnus with his junk being cupped by another woman.

No wonder he hadn’t responded to her texts. He had something better already waiting for him.

Fuck him. Time to leave. Ignoring the stab of hurt, Edie jerked up from the stone bench she sat on. As she did, her peg leg clattered to the cobblestones.

Strawberry Shortcake turned and looked right at her.

So did Magnus.

Edie froze in place, unable to move. She watched as recognition moved over Magnus’s face and he pulled his helmet off, revealing buzzed hair and two black streaks of paint under his gorgeous eyes. He looked shocked to see her standing there. As she hesitated, Strawberry Shortcake stepped closer to Magnus. Intimately closer.

And that got Edie moving. Her jaw clenched. She shot him the bird—Shortcake, too—and then turned and limped down the stairs and into the nighttime gardens, leaving her peg leg behind like some sort of wackadoo Cinderella.

“Edie,” Magnus called behind her. “Wait up.”

“Fuck you,” she called after him, hurrying as fast as her leg would carry her. The gardens weren’t lit, but ahead she could make out a thick hedge and headed for that. If the gardens offered any sort of protection for an aching heart, she’d take them.

There was no way in hell she was going back into that party. Not after she’d thrown herself at Magnus for the last few weeks.

It was clear he didn’t want her.

Chapter Nine

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This party was going from bad to worse. Magnus tossed aside his helmet and jogged down the stairs, trying to see where Edie had gone. For a woman with a bad leg, she’d sure disappeared into the bushes fast. He paused, scanning the dark grounds of the expansive gardens.

As he did, the blonde who’d blatantly fondled him a few moments ago came up from behind him and looped an arm around his waist. “Where are you going, babe? We were just starting to have fun.”

He pried her arms off of him, fighting the surge of irritation at her forwardness. Before meeting Edie, he probably wouldn’t have given a shit about the blonde. He’d have taken her upstairs, fucked her like she wanted, and then never called her again. If he did that now, though, Edie would know. Edie would care.

She’d be upset.

And for some reason, that tore at him. It mattered that Edie would be hurt. Hell, she was probably already thinking the worst of him after he’d shut her down in her text messages earlier that week. She wouldn’t understand, and because Bianca and Levi weren’t going to confess their little games, she’d be hurt. She’d think the problem was her.

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