In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

'Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon our beloved Prophet and Master Muhammad (s.a.s), all his blessed descendents and noble companions.'

- Aameen.

Chapter Two

The First Encounter

London, U.K.

The Couture Fashion Week in London was progressing in full swing, gaining rave reviews and already declared a great success by the assembled media.

Another long day had ended and the parties of the evening had just begun at the packed venue. Crossing the reception hall and entering through the glass doors George paused, his gaze scanning the crowded lounge filled with both impeccably or informally dressed men and women in the height of fashion.

He barely noticed the heady smell of various perfumes and aftershaves yet the rush of body heat from the large crowd was not to be denied. The music pounded from all around, mingling with the din of chatter and laughter mixed with the clinking of glasses as wine circulated freely with the appetising snacks.

Dressed in stylish jeans and a tucked in pale yellow shirt that was partly open, George Benedict shoved his hands inside the pockets of his long dark coat, his twinkling gaze still scanning the select throng of the VIP lounge.

His solitary moment ended when someone (obviously a woman) spotted him and uttered a delighted squeal. Not surprisingly, his designer confreres, super models and friends soon surrounded him. He was his usual charming self as they extolled and praised his collection that had been displayed that morning. Someone grabbed a passing waiter and handed George a glass of champagne, then as they toasted him, he laughed and tossed off the bubbling liquid.

"Where's Mattie?" he questioned a plump woman dressed in a long, velvet dress that offered more than a hint of her voluptuousness to others gaze. She was one of the leading fashion designers of the country.

"Mattie Jones? Oh, did you see her green dress? Not the short frilled one; I mean the amazing long silk... "

George interrupted her with a shake of his blonde head.

"I was busy with my own show today; I didn't get a chance –"

"... it was stunning, and the model who displayed it was something too!"

"Indeed?" George drawled in faint amusement, becoming slightly bored, for beautiful models in the fashion industry were as common as the numerous locations of Starbucks in Central London.

"Don't believe me?" The plump designer shrugged indifferently. "You have probably seen and been with them all." She giggled at her own joke while George snorted at the exaggeration, handing his empty glass to the waiter for a refill.

He came upon Angel who was talking earnestly with some guy model whose eyes were riveted upon her enticing body; she saw George and left the guy murmuring an excuse. Entwining her hand around George's arm Angel gave a teasing smile reminding him of his promise to dance with her. He shrugged and accepted his fate thinking she looked really sexy in her tiny ballerina dress. 

When finally he could get away from her, George spied his old college mate and friend Mattie Jones, surrounded by the usual crowd. She spotted him before he could reach her and with a surprised joyous cry, extricated herself and threw herself at him. George laughed and swept her off her feet, then kissed both her cheeks while she gazed at him critically, her arms still around his neck.

"I didn't know one could become that busy and forget catching up with good ol' friends," he observed, the dark blue eyes shining warmly down at his old mate.

"Look who's saying what," Mattie's lips curled in sarcasm, though her gaze remained affectionate. "I was at your show the whole time, did you even bother to come and see mine?"

"Sorry alright? I couldn't squeeze a drop of time then, but until this Fashion Week ends, I'll haunt your every show." George promised with his signature grin. She rolled her eyes.

"I have been hearing your praises everywhere," Mattie said with a swift smile.

"Could say the same of you," George countered, as they started to walk together. "Seems like the States has treated you well; you have become more famous than me."

She dispelled his teasing with a shake of her pale blonde locks. "We are on equal footing George; though our styles differ of course... you look none the worse since we last met, in fact you still look da** hot! I hope me saying this doesn't swell your pretty head."

"Ah you hurt me bad Miss Mathilda Jones," George lamented dramatically. "I... the great George of London – vain?"

"Still having illusions about you being great huh?"

"That I'm my dear, without any doubt of illusions or delusions. But you look thin," He said seriously, scanning her face which despite the makeup looked a bit worn. Her scarlet lace dress only enhanced her exhaustion as Mattie shrugged wearily.

"Hard to drop the eating habits of a model; combined with the usual stress. You know how tough and competitive everything is, we started preparing four months back yet something or the other goes amiss at the last second."

George smiled in agreement. "Four months is too less sweetheart, you should've begun six months back."

Her pale brows scrunched in a tiny frown. "I know I know, don't remind me... I had my hands full then."

"Come, if you could spare some moments now, show me this fantastic collection of yours. It's still here I suppose?" George queried as they exited the lounge and entered the hall where the reception was going on in terrific style. Their progress was slow and hindered as they were often halted by others' greetings or acknowledgments.

"Serious?" Mattie pretended disbelief. "Or is it my models that you want to see and flirt with?"

George sighed woefully. "After all we have been through, you don't –"

"Yea I don't trust you," Mattie interposed dryly. "Especially not where there are pretty women reposing under my protection."

George gave a shrug of his broad shoulders. "They can't help it Mat."

"They can't help what?" she asked suspiciously.

"Falling for me;" He grinned with deliberate charm, and seeing the sudden slight dimples digging into his lean cheeks, Mattie couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. And her heart without doubt, did a little flip.

As long as she had known him, he had always been the charmer. She watched him now as some friend hailed him, it was not only the women who couldn't help falling for him –sure he was very handsome with those unusual dark blue eyes with their absurdly long lashes and that highly attractive grin of his that was vastly infectious... it was George himself too, who couldn't help flirting back with all the women.

Yet Mattie knew that beneath all that he really possessed a generous and kind nature, even though in the Uni where they had studied designing together, he was popularly known among others as the heartless hero. Certainly, there had been no lack of proofs for that.

"Gosh, we are here at last," she breathed in relief as they left the din of the hall behind and crossed the corridor.

"Right, alone at last." George declared with twinkling eyes, his hand casually slipping around her waist.

Mattie rolled her eyes. "Remember, I have a boyfriend now. But some things never change I see. Come, the showroom should be empty now."

George stopped in his tracks. "And your models?"

"At the party." She smirked, knowing well that he was teasing her.

"Back there?" He jabbed an astonished thumb in the direction they had come from.

She nodded. "Yeah...and somebody said they were eager to see my creations." Her tone was mocking.

"Right. The beautiful clothes yes," he solemnly agreed but when Mattie caught his dancing eyes, she burst into joyous laughter. God, how he always made her laugh at silly things.

They were still laughing when they entered the long, cool room with stacks of impeccably tailored clothes neatly arranged and hanging in rows.

Upon seeing the tall beautiful woman standing alone in the room they halted, their laughter ending abruptly.

"I was just leaving," Sophia spoke first, offering a little smile to Mattie. Her glance flitted towards George, the cool green eyes met his and read in them frank admiration.

Mattie answered the smile with a nod. She turned to George, and fought a sudden giggle seeing that he was standing still, his gaze fixed upon the model who without another glance to either of them had walked away gracefully.

"George?" There was no response.

"George!"

George let out a long whistle. "Mattie, who the hell is she?"

Mattie shook her head. "I warn you George Benedict, she's not like the others. Keep your charms to yourself, and forget it."

With an effort, George turned from the door and faced her.

"What do you mean?" He asked with a frown.

"I don't know," Mattie shrugged. "She's always stiff and displays this back-off attitude towards men."

"Is she yours?"

"Yep –one of the highest paid in the U.S. Her presence today was well received."

"Was she the one who wore your green dress? I heard praises about both the model and the costume. I didn't believe then; what did you say her name was?"

"I didn't." Mattie gave him a severe look, which he pretended not to see.

She sighed in defeat. "Sophia. Sophia Roberts. And that's all you'll get out of me."

***