by H. M. Ward
A vein at Mother's temple pops up.
I estimate two remaining seconds in which I can ask Darcy to dance, or mother will do it for me. Shit.
I suck in a breath and slowly make my way over to the man. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t see me. I’m standing there for a moment and finally manage, “Mr. Darcy?”
He doesn’t look up.
I continue, “Would you like to—”
“No,” he interrupts before I can finish speaking. “I have pressing matters to attend to right now.” He rounds, and I watch his beautiful body in that tailored tux recede from sight.
I stand rooted to my spot, gaping after him in shock.
A second later Mother is next to me. She takes my arm and whispers, “Don’t frown, dear. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
She cringes at the informality, but doesn’t comment on it. She pats my arm. “Never mind, Beth. I'm certain John has taken a liking to you. I’ll make sure he attends brunch with us. I have the perfect outfit for you. It will bring out the color in your—”
Mother’s face pales and her glass slips from her hand. I reach out for it, but it’s too late. It hits the floor and shatters. That’s not like her at all. People stare at us, trying to figure out why she’s utterly still.
I stand back up and follow Mother's gaze. Holy crap!
Mary is marching into the ballroom, with guests discreetly gawking in disbelief as she passes. The high slit of Mary’s black gown reveals shapely thighs covered by fishnet stockings and black shit-kicker boots. Purple fingernails peak from the freshly cut tips of her opera gloves.
I bite my tongue, suppressing a grin. In Mary's defense, she did exactly as mother asked her to do. She wore the dress, the gloves, fixed her makeup, and "did something" with her hair. Instead of the original two purple streaks, all of Mary’s hair is now purple. It complements the studded dog collar she's wearing as a choker.
“Oh, Lord, I’m going to faint.” Mother grabs my arm. I lead Mother to a nearby table, where she flops dramatically into a chair. “Beth, go after your sister. I can’t believe it. I just can't believe she’d do this to me.”
I run to catch up with Mary as she heads straight for Catherine Degatto and a crowd of her good ol’ boy Texas billionaire business associates. They flank her three deep on each side, all clad in cowboy hats, boots, and tuxedos.
Although Mrs. Degatto is in her fifties, her face is flawless. She wears her silver hair in a short, sleek bob, with long side-swept bangs across her forehead. Mrs. Degatto tosses her head back and lets out that throaty laugh of hers, gray eyes sparkling with amusement in the conversation. For a moment, she is the stereotypical socialite, all manners and bluster and facade, but people who know her well know better than to get on her bad side. Her persona changes with her heartbeat, turning the poised and polished socialite into an ambitious powerhouse with eyes like ice and a spine of steel.
I try chasing after Mary discreetly, wobbling as I leap-run across the ballroom in my high heels.
“Mary,” I whisper-shout. “Mary!”
Mary is only a couple of steps away from Degatto when she starts ranting.
“North Texas has experienced a record number of earthquakes since Degatto Industries and Frey Oil—hey!”
“Not now, Mary. Come on.” I wrestle Mary away from the Texans before they hogtie her. "I admire your intentions," I whisper close to her ear, "but this is neither the time nor the place. Think of Dad." I steer her across the ballroom, toward the nearest exit.
“The people have the right to know,” Mary complains as we reach the foyer.
“Mary, the people here know already and don’t care. 'The People' to which you refer, do not attend Galas in $5000 dresses—shit-kicker boots or otherwise. Those people are at home drinking their poisoned water." I put a hand on her arm and wait for her to meet my eyes. "On an unrelated note, you have black lipstick stains on your teeth.”
Mary sighs into the mirror. "Dad still thinks of me as the baby, you know, patting me on the head like caring what happens to the world is a phase I'll outgrow. And while you’re away finding yourself, I’m stuck here dealing with Mother.”
It's like a sucker punch to the gut.
She's right, though, to escape Mother's crazy antics I’d chosen a university as far from her as I thought possible to attend—regardless of the cost to my sisters.
“Well, I’m back now, and we'll fix this together. We need to figure out what’s wrong with Dad, first, though. Then we can tackle global warming, animal testing, and decontaminating the wa...”
I trail off at the sound of William Darcy’s voice and drag Mary behind a nearby pillar.
“Hey! What’s—”
“Shh.”
“Is that William Darcy and Cameron Bingley?” Mary places a hand on my shoulder trying to get a look.
“Be quiet," I say with a scowl, waving my hand to shush her. "They’re coming this way.
“William, a host of pretty girls are here, all dying to dance with you. I hate to see you standing off by yourself in a corner, acting like a mafia hit man. You could at least attempt to be sociable,” Cameron says jovially.
“You know I hate dancing with women I don’t know.” His stoic nature is a defense mechanism. I sense it, wishing I knew more about him.
“Only because the moment you touch them, they swoon and fall in love with you.” Cameron presses an arm against his forehead and bats his eyes. In a soprano voice, he squeals, “Oh, Mr. Darcy, your dancing is divine.”
“Knock it off,” Darcy answers with a smile that takes my breath away. I swear, my heart responds against my wishes, beating faster in response. My eyes drink in his thick, wavy hair, the stubbled shadow along his strong jaw, and the way his tuxedo strains across muscles too sinfully sexy for a pencil pusher. “Women don’t talk like that,” Darcy chuckles.
“Ah, but I’m not too far off.”
“Perhaps. No one here is of interest to me. You've already attracted the prettiest girl in the room.” His reply shocks me. I didn't realize he was aware Jane existed—or anyone else in the room for that matter. He's barely looked anyone in the eye since he arrived.
“Isn’t she? Jane’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” Cameron breathes. “What about her sister, Beth? Jane speaks very highly of her. She’s cute.”
I wince.
“Some might call her cute,” Darcy says as if he's just sucked a lemon, “if you like that nerdish girl look. She's not attractive enough to compensate for that smart-ass mouth of hers, though. Why are you out here anyway, Bingley? You should go back into the ballroom and enjoy your time with Jane instead of wasting your time with me. I’ll find a way to entertain myself.”
“What a fartknocker!” Mary cracks her knuckles and steps around the pillar, following them. “I bet I can knock that pussy out with one punch.”
“No, Mary,” I hiss. “Just walk away.”
Mary can tell his comment felt like a fist to the face, so she nods and disappears into the crowd. They’re just words, but to hear someone actually say they don’t like you—that you’re not beautiful—it cuts deeply.
I wander out of the ballroom and grab another flute, downing all of the amber liquid before I reach the balcony. The night air is warm for this time of year. Central Park stretches out below us, neat, green, and perfect. I walk over to the railing and lean on it, staring down at the grassy fields.
I’m lost in thought when someone shoves through the door and swears. He makes a beeline for the balcony and stops with a jerk when he sees he’s not alone. The light from the hallway casts a soft glow on his face. Pain, shock, and surprise all mingle together and dance behind those blue eyes.
I look away, intending to walk past him and go back inside. “The balcony is all yours.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, Darcy nods and swallows hard. His jaw locks and his fingers alternately stretch and still by his sides. No phone.
As
I pass, his fingers brush against mine. The response is immediate, and the hollow of my chest feels full. I suck in a startled breath and stop. It’s like I’m caught in a trap.
WALK, BETH! MOVE YOUR FEET! My mind screams at me to haul ass, but I can’t move—not while his skin is touching mine.
Then it happens. That gentle touch turns to something more. Darcy clutches my hand and pulls me to him. He entwines his fingers with mine and lifts them between us. He slowly lowers his head and presses his mouth to my fingers, kissing them gently. The heat from his lips makes me shudder, and lightness fills my head, forcing me to breathe heavier.
Darcy says nothing, nor does he explain. He presses his forehead to mine and closes his eyes for a moment. When he lifts his lashes, our eyes lock. He blinks slowly, lowering his gaze to my lips. Pressed between our bodies, his fingers are so close to my skin I imagine their touch on more than just my hand.
We stay like that, suspended beneath the stars in a near kiss. It feels like hours pass before either of us moves again. It’s Darcy who pulls away. He steps back, hanging his head between his shoulders as if ashamed of his actions.
I don’t know if it’s a slight to me, or if there’s something else going on. “William?”
“Good evening, Miss Bennet.”
CHAPTER 5
I hate everyone. I need to leave. The fact that Darcy hasn’t left the party makes this feel even more awkward. I find a spot to sit at an empty table in the back, and a moment later Mary plops down beside me.
“Looking a little flushed, there, Sis. Making out in the coat closet again?” Mary has a crazy straw in a champagne glass filled with milk. She slurps it and waggles her eyebrows at me.
“You know it,” I say flatly. “Nothing floats my boat more than doing it in other people's coats.”
Mary makes a face and elbows me. “Ewww! I checked my coat! Now I have to get it cleaned again. Beth!” She shoves me dramatically, and I grin. “You’re such a skank.”
We dissolve into a fit of giggles and don’t notice the man walking up behind us. We jump—and Mary shrieks a slew of curses—as a voice speaks from behind us.
“What are you two hiding from?”
“Colin!” I yelp and jump out of my chair to wrap my arms around his neck. “You scared the crap out of me."
He returns my hug tightly. When we finally let go, I look him over. He’s wearing a new Armani tux with a pair of vintage saddle shoes. His pale blue eyes sparkle with flecks of gold, and his light brown hair is slicked back, making him look older.
Colin is my Texas twin. We’re buds.
Grinning, I ask him, "What’re you doing here?”
He frowns. “I’m here to kiss Catherine Degatto’s ass. She’s funding my father’s campaign for Senate.” He looks like someone killed his puppy. Then he turns to Mary and beams. “I’m loving the hair, by the way!”
“Colin, if you weren’t BFFs with Beth, I’d host a sit-in protest in front of your penthouse in Frey Towers.” Mary playfully punches his shoulder. “When are you going to grow a pair and force your dad to stop poisoning the water?”
“Um, ouch?” Colin rubs his shoulder. "Both physically and metaphorically."
Colin Frey has been my best friend since before my father moved his company to New York and we both attended Lakewood Academy together back in Texas. Colin is the sole heir to the Frey Oil fortune, and his father, Michael Frey, will publicly announce his decision to run for Senate any day now.
In the meantime, Mr. Frey seems intent on ignoring his son except to further his own political interests. Mary is, of course, convinced his business practices at Frey Oil ignore the environment in much the same way.
“All right, all right,” I say, stopping further debate. “Can we make this a violence-free evening? I’m not in the mood for picketing tonight, Mary. Maybe we can have a brawl tomorrow?”
“Ugh,” Mary says and rolls her eyes, “you’re such a killjoy. I’m calling it a night.”
“Going home?” I ask skeptically.
Mary arches an eyebrow and laughs at me.
“Sorry, I forgot I was talking to the life of the party. I’ll make up something to tell Mother.”
“I doubt she'll mind. She’ll be relieved I'm not here embarrassing her. Later, dudes!”
“You’re going to miss out on the epic ass-kissing,” Colin calls out as Mary heads to the exit. In response, she blows him a kiss, snatches it from the air, and slaps it on her own ass.
"I think I'll be ok," she says with a wink, before ducking through the door and escaping. Colin turns and hands me his handkerchief.
“Here, take this.”
“What’s it for?”
“Haven’t you ever seen a billionaire’s son with a brown nose?”
“Eww, Colin. That’s gross!”
He puts an arm around my shoulder and speaks with his best Texas twang, “Honey, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!
* * *
My eyes sweep nervously around the ballroom as Colin bypasses the tables and leads me into the center of the dance floor. I keep my back ramrod straight, my head held high and haughty, while my stomach is flipping like an Olympic gymnast. It's been years since I've played the elegant socialite, and it's never been a role I enjoyed. Too much attention, too many discreet whispers, too much fake.
In the crowd of guests, I pick out Jane, blushing as she listens attentively to Mr. Bingley. Nearby, Mr. Darcy seems to be on his phone again. He taps the screen with such force I’m surprised it hasn’t cracked.
Colin takes my hand and sweeps me into his arms. I can do this. I can relax. Or I could run.
"What's wrong?" Colin asks, concerned.
“People are staring.” They are.
I imagine their conversations in my mother's voice. 'Look at that little Bennet girl! Imagine them showing their faces here, as if they could afford to donate to charity. Profits are down, down, down, and it shows in their rented ball gowns!'
I glance from guest to guest, my stomach churning, panic rising in my throat. Colin lifts a hand gently to my cheek and forces my gaze back to him.
“They are staring because you look gorgeous, and they're curious how long we'll dance before I start hitting them up for campaign money.”
“Oh, Colin," I say with a half-laugh, "well, we better give them their money's worth."
He leads me through several waltzes, whispering a heaping helping of gossip about the couples we pass on the floor. By the time Colin starts a game of "Are They Real," I'm relaxed again and enjoying myself.
“Fake. Fake. Real. Fake. That one,” Colin discreetly studies the cleavage of a broad-shouldered woman I swear I've seen on TV as a linebacker for the Giants, “I genuinely have no idea.” We both giggle.
“How do you know all this?”
“Oh, I know,” he says, pausing near the orchestra. “I’ll be right back. The Degattos seem to have requested funeral music, but I'll shake things up.”
As Colin talks to the conductor, a throaty laugh catches my attention, and I turn in its direction.
Catherine Degatto and her daughter, Anne, stand on the edge of the dance floor talking at William Darcy. I see Anne tucking a strand of sleek hair behind her ear and fluttering her lashes. Ugh! Did Anne take the same how-to-catch-a-billionaire class every other woman at the gala attended? Anne lightly touches Darcy's arm, tips her head back, and laughs that throaty laugh again. She leans forward, letting one breast brush his suit. He can have her. He’s a colossal asshat. They deserve each other.
“O.M.G.,” Colin whispers in my ear, making me jump. “It’s Anne Degatto. Her mother tried to hook me up with Anne last year. My mother literally dragged me to the Degattos' beach house in Maui. Anne and her mother wearing bikinis...” He shudders. “I’ve never seen so much cellulite!”
“Colin!” I elbow him. The Degattos may be bitchy, but no woman deserves having their cellulite critiqued out loud.
“Well, it’s true," Colin mutters, rubbing his ribs
. "You know Anne is an arts and antiquities dealer, right?”
I nod.
“Did you know her mother is Anne’s biggest customer, the only reason her business is solvent?" Colin pauses expectantly for that information to sink in. In fact, I didn't know that and wish I still didn't. Colin continues, "There are rumors Degatto Industries is in secret negotiations with Darcy Biopharm. Catherine Degatto thinks she can buy Anne a husband the way she bought her a business to run. You know they're desperate if she considered ME a catch worthy of her daughter.”
“Anyone would be lucky to have you, Colin.”
“Tell that to my father.” His pale blue eyes grow sad for a moment, but light back up watching Darcy accept Anne's graceless advances. “Seems like Degatto has her eyes on someone new for Anne. Poor dude. He doesn’t seem to mind, though.”
My eyes narrow, noticing for the first time how attentive Darcy is with the Degattos. No cell phone in hand, no expression of disdain on his face as he speaks. It's annoying how damned attractive he is when his face relaxes.
When Anne rises on her toes and whispers in his ear, he gives just a hint of a smile. It lights up his face and shows off his gorgeous features.
As if hearing my thoughts, Darcy’s sapphire eyes suddenly lift and lock with mine.
Shit!
I look away quickly, scrambling for anything else to be doing, and accidentally step on Colin's foot in the process.
“Son of a—” he grumbles.
“Sorry,” I say with a wobbling step in the opposite direction. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Darcy's lip twitching into a grin.
“Really, Beth. I can’t take you anywhere.” Colin chuckles and takes my hand to lift me up and guide me away.
I'm already scanning the room for exits when I'm distracted by a familiar melody coming from the orchestra. I look questioningly at Colin, who shoots me a mischievous grin.
“Colin, is this your idea of shaking things up?"
He grins. "Our performance in the Lakewood Academy talent show was the highlight of my high school career." He extends his arm, spinning me away from him and transforming my dress into a billowing blur of purple.
