by H. M. Ward
I’m over you, Mr. Darcy. Walk up to him and say it. Put him out of his misery so he can move on. He doesn’t need to know how I really feel about him, how I adore him. Or that I fell in love with him somewhere along the way. He doesn’t need to hear that I wish his face could be the last thing I saw every night and the first thing I see each morning. He shouldn’t know the longing I feel for him whenever I hear his name. It’s like conjuring a ghost, and for a second, I can breathe again, pretending he’s there, getting lost in his remembered embrace.
There’s no room for memories, no tears can be shed for lost loves. That part of my life is over. I chose this and I’ll die keeping my promise.
Just like Colin will die keeping his secret.
Nausea heats my body and twists the room. It feels like there are fingers around my throat, squeezing.
Colin follows my gaze to Darcy, breaks his pose, and takes me into his arms. “What’s wrong, Beth?”
I place my hands on his chest and gaze into his eyes, ignoring the photographers and reporters. Gently, I brush his soft hair off his face. “Nothing. It’s just warm in here under all the lights.”
“Right, of course. Let’s step outside for a moment.” Colin puts his hand on the small of my back, and leads me past everyone, past Darcy, completely ignoring Mateo, until we’re on the balcony.
A wisp of winter wind sends my curls flying from the nape of my neck. My stylist is going to kill me. I can imagine her burning a hole in the carpet, pacing with a can of hairspray and a comb, ready to attack me as soon as I walk inside.
Colin walks to the edge of the balcony. The city sleeps below, encased in the glow of newly fallen snow. He rubs his hands over his face once, and sounds defeated. “I don’t know what to do.”
A dozens lights flash as I cross the balcony, rise on my toes, and kiss the tip of his nose. I wish we were alone, but even through the glass, they’re there. The press will always be following us—waiting. One day, one of us will mess up. I just hope it’s not me. How long can I avoid Darcy? Social circles run small amongst this crowd, and Colin doesn’t have plans to reside in Texas. I’ll continue to see him.
I’ll want him to talk to, for comfort, for laughs, for all those things he said in the arcade. I realize I want also want them, but it’s too little, too late.
Colin holds my hand and pulls me to the railing. He drapes one arm over my shoulders, as if we’re dreaming about our future together while watching Manhattan disappear in a blanket of snow. He presses his lips together into a thin line, quiet for way too long. It’s not like him to be serious, not like this.
“I see the way you look at William Darcy. Is there something going on there?” His voice is stiff with fear, laced with regret.
“Not anymore. I might have had a fling with him a while back, but it never went anywhere.” I watch the snowflakes flutter past my nose and repress a shiver.
Colin takes off his tux jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. Still keeping our backs to the windows, he stares off into the city while he speaks. “Because of me.”
“No, it wasn’t you. I made that mess myself. It was before I even agreed to marry you—you’re clear.”
He smirks and glances over at me. “I’ll never be clear. I’ll always be looking over my shoulder, wondering who’s watching.”
He laces his fingers through mine and lifts our hands before kissing my fingers. “You’ll never forgive me if we go through with this.”
“Forgive you for what? Colin, I’m the one who said yes. I could have said, no, suck it up and move on with your life. I didn’t. I’m here now. I always will be.” I look up into his baby blue eyes and see so much emotion.
“I know. That’s why I have to do this.” I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but Colin presses my hand to his lips a second time, drops it, and walks away.
I follow him inside and snatch his arm. “We’re almost done. The finish line is less than a day away. Colin, stop!”
But he doesn’t slow. I rush to keep up with him, his jacket slipping off my shoulders as I rush by Darcy. He watches us, but doesn’t move.
Colin stops abruptly and turns to me. He clasps my hands between his palms. “That’s just it. This is not the finish line. It’s the beginning of a long, soul-crushing mistake. I should never have asked you to do this and the fact that you did—I’ve never had someone show me how much they love me before. I’m eternally indebted to you, no matter what happens next.”
I don’t like the cryptic language or his dark mood. It’s not like him. “Colin, what are you doing?”
“What I should have done a long time ago.” I watch as his perfectly pressed white tux shirt makes a beeline across the room. He doesn’t stop until he’s in front of Mateo. Colin offers a hand and leads the other man onto the dance floor. Mateo has tears in his eyes and can’t stop smiling.
Cameras move past me, following him to the ballroom floor, watching something no one dares put words to, until it’s impossible to think anything else. Colin pulls Mateo to him, rests his pale hands on Mateo’s dark cheeks, and leans in. The kiss is shy, brief, and indisputable.
Flashes go off, blinding me. I turn and notice that some of the photographers are watching me. Lights flash in my face, but I point back to Colin. It’s not over.
Colin addresses his horrified parents. “I need to tell you something about me. Love isn’t always wrapped pretty in a silk chiffon dress.” He presses his lips together and reaches for Mateo’s hand. “Sometimes it takes a turn no one saw coming, and the truth of the matter is…”
The room is silent. The orchestra has fallen silent and I swear to God, Mr. Frey’s brain is frying in his skull. I can almost hear it. Colin’s mother has a softer expression—still horrified, but hiding it as best she can.
Before Colin can say it, she crosses the short distance between them. “I already know. We both do.”
The instant she says it, the flashes go off again, some reporters photographing his parents' reaction, the whole room a roar of whispering socialites. Colin holds up a hand, and the room falls silent again, all eyes and cameras trained back on him.
"Dad, I don’t care if you accept me for who I am or not. I have my family,” he glances over his shoulder at me, “and they love me for who I am. I’ll always be your son, but I can’t be the fake golden child you want any more, and I won't ruin other people's lives to maintain your idea of me. This is who I am, and, if he'll have me, Mateo is the man I plan to spend my life with.”
In the shocked silence that follows, Colin turns and holds out a hand for me. I walk over to him and allow him to kiss my cheek. He whispers, “Sorry for the drama. I promise the rest of the year will be drama-free.”
I press the end of his nose and smile. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You know you love the drama.”
He grins. “I do. Watch this.” Colin turns and walks to Mateo who is shrinking back into the corners.
Colin drops to one knee in front of him and says, "Will you marry me?"
The flood of camera shutters clicking obscures Mateo's answer, but I can tell from their expressions and the excited roar of the guests that Mateo says yes.
I glance back at Mr. Frey who is still staring, shocked, in his son's direction. A campaign consultant pops out of the crowd and whispers something into his ear. Instantly, all the lights switch back on in his head, and he crosses the room to meet Mateo and shake his hand. It may not save his campaign, but it's a start at saving his relationship with his son, and I'm grateful.
I scan the ballroom. Darcy’s still standing in the same spot as before, arms folded across his chest. Our eyes lock for a moment. For the first time in my life, I know exactly what I want.
I want William Darcy tied up with a big red bow.
He takes a hesitant step toward me and stops, questioning. I run across the ballroom toward him, dodging reporters and well-meaning guests as I make my way to him, stopping just short of touching. His hand drifts toward my face, then
drops as if he’s afraid to touch me.
Now that I'm here, I don't know how to begin. I clear my throat and jump in, “After everything you've done for my father, and for Jane, too, I need to thank you. Dad wouldn't have made it without your intervention.”
“You found out.” He looks away, embarrassed.
I close the distance between us, gently touching his cheek, turning him to me. “Yes. No more secrets.”
He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it quickly. His eyes drift down to the floor. “Secrets like what you were willing to do for your friend, Colin?”
I drop my hands, and shy away. “The entire world probably knows about that by now. We’re about to be a YouTube sensation.”
Sapphire eyes flick to mine with admiration. “Your ability to find humor in the most difficult of circumstances fascinates me.”
“You and me both.” I laugh nervously. How do I tell him? What do I say? What if he doesn’t love me anymore? I rub my arms, chasing away the shivers spiraling through my body.
He gazes deeply into my eyes, his face raw with emotion. “You must know I...” He takes a nervous breath. “I did it all for you.”
“Oh?”
He nods. “My feelings for you haven’t changed. If anything, they’ve only grown stronger in these past weeks." He swallows thickly. “I tried to move on, but I couldn’t. I can't get past it. There is no getting over you. I lo—” His voice breaks with emotion. He clears his throat and tries again. “I love you, Elizabeth Bennet.”
His brilliant blue eyes gaze into mine, waiting for a response to his declaration. I slide my hands up his chest, resting them over his heart, feeling it beat wildly underneath my fingertips.
A smile spreads across my face and the truth tumbles out. “I didn’t know before, but I see it now. I love you. I’ve loved arguing with you since the day we met, William Darcy."
My hands make their way to his neck, and I pull him to me. He dips his head, and I gently caress his lips with mine. It’s a kiss of hope, of promises, of new beginnings.
I've found my fairytale ending.
He leans back and takes my hand. "Our engagement party should move to a more intimate location." He places a hand on the small of my back and begins to guide me out of the ballroom.
My cheeks burn with the innuendo. Coyly, I look back at him. "I agree. Intimate sounds good. Warm blankets, your hot body, and wicked kisses. A celebration just for two.”
He kisses my hand and grins. "I planned on flying away from here as soon as possible, so my jet is waiting at Teterboro Airport. The pilots already have it prepped and ready to go.”
Surprised, I stop and look up at him. “Really? Do you have Valentine’s Day plans?”
“I do now, well, I mean…I hope so.” He smirks, holding my hands as he drops to one knee. “Elizabeth Bennet, will you marry me? Will you be my wife forever and always?”
I can’t stop smiling. It feels like I’m going to explode with happiness. I summon enough composure to reply, "Why, Mr. Darcy, I thought you'd never ask."
* * *
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Known for her high-intensity New Adult Romance novels, Texas psychologist and professor, L.G. Castillo, writes books that explore the tumultuous and psychological journey of self-discovery and falling in love. Her stories feature dramatic, life-changing events interspersed with a good dose of humor, feisty heroines, and the swoon-worthy men who love them. When she's not writing, L.G. is binging on Netflix or adding up frequent flyer miles for her next vacation. She's been married to her own swoon-worthy hero for over two decades.
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New York Times bestselling author HM Ward continues to reign as the queen of independent publishing. She has sold over 10 MILLION copies, placing her among the literary titans. Articles pertaining to Ward's success have appeared in The New York Times, USA Today, and Forbes to name a few. This native New Yorker resides in Texas with her family, where she enjoys working on her next book.
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CHAPTER 26
Once inside, he drops my hand, and I follow him to the elevators. I wonder where we’re going, but I don’t ask. He either wants to chew me out, or throw me off the balcony. I deserve both.
When we step inside, he pushes the button for the penthouse. Tension flows off Darcy in waves. It feels as if we may drown in this small space. I step back to make a buffer between us. His face is dark and his mood is volatile.
I open my mouth, still working out something to say, when the doors slide open. A large group of Japanese businessmen pile into the elevator with us. Darcy slips behind me to make space for them. I don’t understand what the men are saying, but one of them holds the elevator door open, motioning the rest of the group to join us—even though there’s no more room. The men laugh as they squeeze themselves in. I’m pushed further back into the small cube until I’m pressed tight against Darcy. I bite down on my lip as I feel his hand move to rest low on my hip, fingers grazing my outer thigh. His breath is on my neck, and his lips are close enough to kiss my temple. I step back a fraction of an inch, attempting to avoid being stepped on, and am surprised when I feel more than a toned body and firm hips against my behind. He’s hard. What the hell is going on? He comes up here to chew me out and then gets turned on by businessmen?
The doors finally close, and the men talk rapidly, laughing. All I can think about is the heat of his body and his hot breath whispering over my bare shoulder. His hand moves away from my hip and leaves a cold spot in its wake.
What am I doing? Colin will be disappointed if he thinks I've left. I’m supposed to talk with Mr. Frey. I’m supposed to be convincing. Getting into this elevator was piss-poor judgment on my part. I vowed nothing would ever happen between me and William Darcy again, but right now my mind is drawing Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy surrounded by little hearts all over my brain—even though I’m here to receive a verbal lashing for being me.
For being unfaithful.
For wanting Darcy.
For wishing Colin would just tell his parents the truth.
The elevator numbers light up as we pass each floor. No one gets off. Crap. It’s way past warm in here. A bead of sweat rolls down my back and, with the way this dress is cut, I’m sure Darcy can see it.
I feel a light brush of skin against my thigh, and I stiffen, thinking the businessman next to me is feeling me up. Darcy’s rich voice wh
ispers, “Relax.”
My breath hitches when he slips a hand into the slit of my gown. My body bursts into flames when he begins to stroke my thigh. I want to throw my head back and moan with each caress. Instead, my eyes fixate on the numbers.
Twelve. Thirteen.
He gently squeezes my ass leaving his hand to linger, to caress. I stare at the numbers, willing myself to be silent, to not moan and melt into him. Does he want to be with me? What the hell is he doing?
Fourteen. Fifteen.
That warm hand travels to the front, agonizingly slow, sweeping over the outside of my lace panties. My stomach twists as my breath hitches and my heart pounds harder.
Sixteen. Seventeen.
Fingers brush over the thin lace barrier, once, then twice. My chest tightens as I force air into my lungs. I stand rigid, unable to turn and face him. Part of me wants to slap him. The other part wants things I can’t have.
Eighteen. Nineteen.
He’s moving a single finger in smooth circles. A delicious sensation is building inside me. Things are hot, wet, and breathless. My mind is racing, trying to rationalize this occurrence. Did he plan this? Did Darcy hire out a truckload of guys to press me against his… Oh. My. God. He thrusts his hips against my back, and I want to turn toward him, but he holds me in place.
Blinking rapidly, I look up, face flushed, breathing jagged. The doors slide open.
