Over You (A Mr. Darcy Valentine's Romance Novel)

by H. M. Ward

  His voice pleads for forgiveness. “Beth, I didn’t mean for it to go this far. A persistent photographer scored a photo of me with Mateo at Six Degrees the other day. Mom freaked and called me. I had to calm her down, so I kind of maybe told her I was kinda maybe planning to pop the question.”

  My brow shoots up. “Kinda maybe?”

  “Fine. I told her I had a ring.”

  “Colin!” I groan, gazing at the engagement ring. A stream of unladylike words blast my buddy until I’m out. I tug at my hair and stare at the floor with my head in my hands.

  “Come on, Beth. We can do this. You’re not with anyone right now, and it’ll only be for a couple of years until Father settles into his Senate position. In the meantime, I can support you and your family. I know your father is about to lose everything, and I can fix it.”

  “You know about that? How?” I glance over at him. “I didn’t even know that until this week.”

  “There’s been talk, and you know how gossip practically knocks on my door and invites itself in.” He takes a hold of my hand. “Brace yourself. I also heard your mother has taken out multiple loans without being able to make payments on them. The bank is considering foreclosing on this apartment.”

  “Damn it!” I make a strangled sound in the back of my throat.

  “I can help you, Beth.”

  “Colin, I can’t take your money.”

  “Would being married to me be so bad?”

  “It would be a total lie.”

  “Not really. We love each other. Well, I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I lean over and kiss his cheek. “But this kind of love won’t keep us happily married. You’ll be miserable. What about Mateo?”

  “I broke up with him.” Colin sighs and lets his body drop back to the floor. He stares blankly at the ceiling as he speaks. “Mateo's family knows he's gay. They're okay with it—they've always been okay with it. But—”

  “I’m sorry, Colin.”

  He shrugs. “It is what it is. He doesn’t understand why I can’t come out. My family won't be accepting—especially not now with my father running for Senate."

  “I know. I wish it weren’t true, but I understand what you mean.”

  Colin trails off, tilting his head toward mine. "Will you think about it? Please?”

  My heart aches for him. For as bad as my mother is, Colin’s dad is ten times worse. He’s going to end up living a lie his entire life.

  Could I do this even for a couple of years? I’d do anything for him, but this?

  “People will know it’s a fake marriage.”

  He laughs. “Honey, welcome to the wealthy side of town. We’re all about being fake. Besides, I almost convinced you. My acting is top-notch.”

  My mind drifts back to Darcy, wondering if anything could come of that. While I don’t think so, I’m reluctant to close the door. This will look bad, like I was dating Colin while I was getting all sexy with Darcy.

  “Beth?” He says my name softly and catches my eye. “Is there someone? I don’t want to ruin it for you.” After watching me for a moment, Colin presses his lips together. He’s about to retract his proposal.

  “I’ll think about it, okay? It’ll change things between us and set us on a path I’m not sure I want to be on. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah, it does. I also know you wanted one marriage and the forever package. I know this isn’t it.” He gestures to himself. “Will you wear the ring while you think about it?”

  I glance at it again. It’s an emerald-cut stone that’s bigger than my nose. “How many karats is that thing? It’s a brick.”

  He slumps back into the sofa and shrugs. “Most women want big boobs and big diamonds.” I smack him in the face with a pillow. “It’s 73 karats and insured up the ass. You can wear it, lose it, or make it into a nose ring.”

  “I’d have panic attacks every time I step out of the apartment. ” I drop the black box onto his stomach. “Put that thing away before Mother sees it and snatches it.”

  “You don’t have to—um, Beth?” He squints, peering over my shoulder. “Why is there a camera up there?”

  I look up at a small dome-shaped object attached to the ceiling. I hear the soft hum of a motor, like a camera zooming.

  Mary's disembodied voice comes from the ceiling. "Holy shit! Take the ring!"

  “Mary, is that you?” I yell at the ceiling.

  The camera tilts up and down slowly as if nodding. “You buttmunch! You were spying on me!”

  "We can hock the ring and donate the money to charity," Mary says, speaking through the camera again.

  “OMG! Have you been listening in on us the entire time?” We stare at the camera expectantly, waiting for a response, when suddenly the office door bursts open.

  Mary’s standing there breathless as if she ran all the way down the hall from her bedroom. “Maybe! Besides, I agree with Colin. People would totally buy it if you two got hitched.” She gestures between us and offers her best “duh” face.

  “How did a camera get in Dad’s office?”

  “I put it there to spy on his meetings with business clients.”

  “Mary!”

  “Only the clients that experiment on animals, or pollute the Earth, or use children from third world countries to manufacture products...”

  My jaw drops as Colin giggles next to me. “Mary Bennet!”

  Mary doesn’t seem fazed. “Okay, fine! I listen to all of them, but stop changing the subject! Just think of it, Beth! With Colin’s access to the Frey Oil cash, we can use it for good and not evil. No offense, Colin. Not that evil wouldn’t look good on you, because black is totally your color.”

  “Likewise, and no offense taken, future sis-in-law.” He sits up, holding out his fist so she can bump it.

  “No! No fist bumping! I only said I’d think about it.”

  Mary waves me away as she thumps Colin's fist companionably then helps him up. They talk animatedly, planning our engagement as if I wasn’t here. “We have so much to do. We need a plan for making sure the media picks up on this. Maybe you can do a slow build so it won’t seem out of the blue.”

  “That’s a great idea. There’ll be tons of press at the Degatto’s masquerade ball.”

  “Hello? I’m standing right here, people. Not engaged," I say, wiggling my ring finger in the air. "Nothing here."

  “That’s good, but we need a venue before then,” Mary says ignoring me. “I’ve got it. Let’s go to Six Degrees.”

  “Great idea.” Colin surveys the baggy t-shirt and jeans I’m wearing. “We need to get Beth into something slinky, though. It's a requirement of the Frey women to look hot.”

  “Wait, what? I’m hot.”

  “You are, sweetie,” Colin explains kindly, “but not in a bangable kind of way.”

  “You’ve got more of a doin-the-librarian going on. Oh! I’ve got just the thing!” Mary takes off before I can protest.

  Before I can blink, I’m wearing four-inch heels and a shimmering black spaghetti-strapped dress so short I’m afraid to bend down.

  As I totter out of the house and into Colin's Aston Martin, all I can think is tonight is going to suck.

  CHAPTER 17

  Colin is right. As soon as I accept his waiting hand and slide from the car, we're overwhelmed by a bombardment of clicks and blinding flashes. The paparazzi swarm around us, blocking the entrance to the club. Through the bright explosions of light, a huge man with arms as big as tree trunks pushes through the crowd. Relieved, we allow him to usher us into the building.

  Inside, a sea of bodies ebb and flow in time with the deafening music, enveloping us in motion. A grouping of tables and stools create a barrier around the corner bar, each forming a tiny island of refuge in the pulsing crowd of people.

  Mary stands near a wrought-iron staircase leading to the lower-level dance floor. Her hands are on her waist, tapping black-polished nails on her hips as she scans the room. Her dress, the same lasciv
ious lime color as her hair, has long sleeves cut into slashes perfect for displaying the tattoos on her arms. A similarly dressed cluster of neon-coated dancers motion for her to join them.

  “I’ll catch you guys later!” She heads in their direction.

  “Do you want us to let you know when we leave?” As the question leaves my mouth, a gorgeous specimen of a man emerges from the group heading toward us. His smooth coffee-colored skin shimmers underneath the flashing strobe lights.

  Mary’s face lights up when she sees him. “He’s here!”

  “Who?”

  “A friend.”

  She sucks in a breath when he flashes a sexy smile at her. “No, don't worry about me. I’ll get a ride.”

  She’s halfway across the dance floor heading toward the guy before I can say another word.

  As Colin and I dance, I spot a few celebrities and models I recognize. I try not to get too star-struck when a lead singer from one of my favorite rock bands waltzes in with his entourage. Jon Ferro is opposite us with his cousin Bryan. The two heirs are Mary’s age, maybe younger, and surrounded by a mob of women.

  I sway with the rhythm of the music, letting the sound transport me to a happy place where I don’t have to think. About anything. It’s only me and the booming bass of the music pounding inside my chest. Colin’s offer to marry me is looming over me like a wave about to crash on the sand. Something feels off, and I don’t think it’s just that Colin would be miserable living a lie. As it is now, he's depressed he can’t be his true self—he hides his sadness well. He hides everything.

  I wish the world could accept people the way they are, for who they are. My mouth has gotten me into more trouble than anyone else I know—and it’s because I won’t back down. While I’m not as crazy as Mary in how I take on the world, I still plan my battles and whack the shit out of things that make life suck. Women’s rights, gay rights, glass ceilings, and the way our society treats the poor all piss me off. Those are intsa-angry spots. Press one and the beast comes out to bite your head off.

  A tingling sensation pricks the back of my neck. Someone is watching me. I glance around the crowded dance floor. Couples dance close to each other, their slick bodies grinding, swaying to the music.

  In a back corner, underneath a strobe light, I see him, his muscular shoulders propped against the wall. The light flashes a series of colors, turning his blonde hair red, green, blue, and then back to his natural color. He sips his drink, studying me from above the glass. Women pass, their eyes caressing his sensuous body. It’s obvious they want him. The way Sexy Guy stands there proves he's used to the attention.

  As the song ends and another begins, I turn my attention back to Colin. Sad eyes look over my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  He leans into my ear. “Mateo’s here with his sister.”

  Following his gaze, I see an athletic figure dancing with a voluptuous, dark-haired girl. When he turns and spots Colin, a brilliant smile lights his face. Pale blue eyes lock with dark brown ones. I look from Colin to Mateo and back to Colin again. I’ve never seen him mope like this over anyone.

  “Talk to him.”

  “What’s the point?” His eyes remain glued on Mateo. “I'm marrying you. My relationship with him is over.”

  I stop dancing and take his shoulders in my hands. “Listen, I haven't agreed to your proposal yet, and…”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “I’m not convinced Mateo is wrong about telling your family. Sooner or later they’ll find out—they always do. When it happens, you’ll need people around you who love you.”

  “You said it.” He gazes down at me.

  “Yeah, I did. It needed to be said. Go.” I nudge him in Mateo’s direction. "Talk with him. I’ll be at the bar if you need me.”

  He pecks my cheek. “You’re the best fiancée ever!”

  I work my way through the crowd, cursing as I attempt climbing the stairs in stilettos. Just as I reach the top, a wave of people bump into me. I flail wildly, grabbing hold of the person nearest to me. I glance up, realizing I’m clinging to Sexy Guy’s arm. My stomach flutters as I gaze into his honey brown eyes. He’s gorgeous. His chiseled, flawless face moves close to mine and, as his hot breath gently washes across my cheek, I lose the ability to speak.

  “Are you okay?” His voice sounds like silk panties, caressing me in all the right places.

  I blink, trying to get my hormones under control as Sexy Guy waits for an answer. That's when I notice the empty glass in his hand and a smattering of wet red spots on his shirt.

  “I’m so sorry. I ruined your shirt.” He chuckles as he watches my hands fly around searching phantom pockets for something to clean the stains. I eye a couple of red napkins on a nearby table. “Come on.”

  “What are you doing?” He laughs as I pull his arm, towing him out of the crowd.

  “I need to soak up the liquid before it settles in.” I dab his well-toned chest. Damn! Is he solid muscle? “Maybe we can save your shirt.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He smiles. Even his teeth are gorgeous. Sexy teeth, all the better to nip me with. Stop it, Beth!

  When I move to his abdomen, I feel his well-defined six-pack. My hand lingers a little too long, and his hand is suddenly over mine. “Not that I mind, but I'd prefer to be on a first name basis with the hot girl feeling me up.”

  The touch of his hand is searing. “Feeling you up?” I laugh lightly. “Yeah, I guess I am. Sorry.”

  “I’m Grant. Grant Wickham,” he says, gently stroking my hand with his thumb. “And you are?”

  “Beth Bennet.”

  “It’s a pleasure meeting you. Can I buy you a drink?”

  I gaze into his stunning eyes. He’s obviously interested, and he looks harmless. Besides, Colin is here, and Mary is around somewhere if he ends up being a psycho and I need an escape plan.

  “Sure.”

  “Great.” He pulls out the barstool for me. “Have a seat.”

  I should sit on his lap and skip the barstool completely.

  CHAPTER 18

  Over drinks and small talk, I find myself mesmerized by the way his beautiful face moves as he speaks. He tells me about working as a stockbroker at a brokerage firm and about his family—how he was an only child until his parents adopted his brother and sister.

  I tell him about my sisters, pointing to Mary as she leaves the club with her “friend,” and describing Jane’s artwork. When he mentions knowing Anne Degatto, I try hard not to gag. Does EVERYONE have a connection to the Degattos? I quickly change the subject.

  “So, how long have you lived in New York?”

  “As long as I can remember. You?”

  “This is the third time in the past few years. I cut out twice and hightailed it to Texas. I have a freaky attraction to cows. It’s nothing major.”

  He’s swallowing his drink when I say that last part and chokes. Laughing, he asks, “Cows?”

  “Uh, right, I mean cowboys. I like big boots. It’s easy to tell things about a man from his boots.” I’m teasing, and he totally gets it.

  “Check it out,” he lifts his foot from under the bar and points. “13DD, baby.”

  I smile coyly and lean in close to him. Grant mirrors my movement, so we’re lip to lip. “My, my, what big shoes you have.”

  My lips part, inhaling the taste of his breath on my tongue. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I hardly know this guy, but I can’t help myself. Maybe it's due to the three drinks I had as we talked. Or maybe it's because he’s a sexy hunk of a man riveted by my every word even as runway models sashay past our table. Whatever it is, I desperately want to kiss him.

  “All the better to seduce you with.” He grins and just as he’s about to kiss me, there’s a tap on my shoulder.

  I turn to see Jane and Cameron behind me.

  “Jane, Cameron!” My surprised smile quickly freezes.

  Darcy is standing behind them. This is awkward. Now it looks like I’m sucking face w
ith a stranger in a bar after getting fingered by the pool with Darcy, and all before I marry Colin. Holy shit. I look like a total skank.

  Darcy’s beautiful face is hard to avoid, but I manage. His black shirt is cut to fit his frame and show off his narrow waist. His dark hair is tousled as if he's been running fingers through it. Even from a few feet away, I can feel anger coming out of him in waves. His sapphire eyes blaze with blue fire—the hottest kind. The stubble along his rigid jaw line makes him look dark and dangerous. My eyes drift along his incredibly broad shoulders, down his muscled arms, to a perfectly manicured hand perched on his shirtsleeve.

  Anne Degatto.

  So why is Darcy shooting fireballs at me if he’s still with Anne? What a twat.

  “I need to talk with you,” Jane says in a rushed whisper.

  “Let me introduce you to my new friend. Grant, this is my older sister, Jane. Jane this is—”

  Before I know it, she’s yanking me away from the table, speaking quickly. “Nice to meet you, Grant. I need to steal my sister away for a moment.”

  “I’ll be right back!” I stumble as Jane takes me a few feet away from the table. “What the hell is wrong with you? Did you see him? He’s hot, like holy fucking hell, hot!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I was worried.”

  “About what?” There’s a sheen of sweat on her brow and a flush on her cheeks. I press the back of my hand against her forehead. “Are you sick? What’s going on?”

  “No, that’s from dancing. We’ve been here for a while. Cameron brought us. Gwen wanted to come, but Darcy wouldn’t let her come alone.” She tilts her head in the direction of the dance floor where Gwen is being her gorgeous self. My eyes pop out as I see she's dancing with Jon Ferro. Way to go, Gwen! He’s a little young for me, but perfect for her.

  “We ran into Mary on our way in, and she told us where you were sitting. I wasn't going to interrupt you, but when we realized you were with Grant, Darcy kept watching you, worried.”

  “Psh,” I wave a hand at her. “There’s nothing to be worried about.”