Pride and Papercuts: Inspired by Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice

by Staci Hart

  Which left me with more to apologize for.

  Laney straightened out, seeming to collect herself before turning from Georgie to march toward the door. I assumed she’d ignore me and watched her openly, noting the length of her neck, the strong angle of her jaw and chin. The line of her nose and the bow of her lips. I watched her so openly, in fact, that when her eyes cut to mine, a jolt shot through me at the boldness and the sheer beauty of her, even in her fury.

  Especially in her fury.

  The black look lasted until she reached the threshold of the conference room and stormed away. And there was only one thing I could do.

  Follow her.

  I passed my very angry sister on my way to the door. “I know,” was all I said, turning in the direction she’d gone.

  I caught a flash of blue round a corner down the hall and went after her, not sure what I’d say but confident I’d come up with something. My pace caught the attention of a few people as I blew in her direction. Why catching her felt urgent, I didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she were leaving or that I wouldn’t see her again. But when I rounded the corner and saw her duck into the women’s restroom, I nearly reached for the handle to follow her. Stupidly, I stood in front of the door, staring at the plastic placard.

  Go back to your office.

  What if I can’t find her later?

  She works here. You’ll see her.

  What if it’s too long between now and then?

  For her or for you?

  Both.

  What if she doesn’t forgive you?

  My frown was so complete, my eyebrows almost touched.

  I was still standing there, arguing with myself, when the door swung open, and Laney looked up at me, surprised. Her hand flew to her chest, her hair aloft from the draft of the heavy door.

  “Jesus. What are …” She glanced around, confused. “What are you doing?”

  My shoulder blades drew together, squaring my shoulders. “I wanted to apologize.”

  She stilled, her eyes narrowing. “In front of the women’s restroom?”

  My mouth opened. Closed. “I realized my mistake, and I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, did you?” Her arms folded. “What mistake is that?”

  “I shouldn’t have challenged you in the meeting.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. That’s twice now that you’ve held your status over me.”

  “You can’t deny we’re different. Our worlds don’t cross.”

  “Why? Because mine wasn’t built on an inheritance? Because my job wasn’t given to me because of legacy? You’re cruel by default, Liam Darcy, and it’s no secret how highly you regard yourself.”

  I was stone, cold and still. “That’s what you think of me?”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “If I said yes, would it change anything?”

  “It wouldn’t. Because any man who would humiliate another human being like you’ve done to me is no gentleman. There is no honor or dignity in it, and I’m left wondering why. What have I done to offend you so deeply? Or is it not me at all? Maybe what everyone says is true—you’re just so cold and callous, you’re incapable of considering anyone but yourself.”

  The cut sliced deep, deeper than I’d ever allow her to know. “Don’t presume to know me, Miss Bennet.”

  “I know enough. Look at you. You don’t even know how to apologize.” She sidestepped me, pausing when we were shoulder to shoulder. “Do your job, and I’ll do mine. No one ever said we have to like each other. So next time you plan to apologize, please do us both a favor and don’t bother.”

  And with a gust trailing the scent of magnolias, she was gone.

  6

  Common Enemy

  LANEY

  I wasn’t exactly angry.

  Well, I take that back, but I wasn’t only angry. I was furious. I was annoyed, with a hefty helping of frustration and disbelief—that was true. I wouldn’t say I felt ashamed or less-than, not because anything he’d said held a modicum of fact. But humiliation bred shame, particularly when it was thrown down in front of a room full of people I’d be working with for the foreseeable future.

  He’d used his power to quiet me, and out of deference for his position, I did as he wanted. But once out of that room, all bets were off.

  The weirdo even chased me to the bathroom to apologize, which was its own oddity. I wondered how many times the spoiled, self-important asshole had ever apologized and bet I could count them on one hand. But he’d stood there, hovering over me like a tornado in a bottle—a vortex of dangerous darkness with nothing between us but a thin husk of glass.

  Thankful I didn’t technically have to be here for the day, I flew to the temporary desk they’d given me and gathered my things, shooting a text to Georgie as I beelined for the elevator, apologizing for not saying goodbye and telling her that I was leaving before I committed homicide in their building. She gave me her blessing, apologizing back and promising me she’d get him in check, that she didn’t know what had gotten into him, etc., etc. I was too mad to offer anything but the verbal equivalent of a thumbs-up.

  In a haze of red, I left the building, earbuds in and rage rock blaring. Twenty minutes of train solitude didn’t calm me down. And by the time I walked into Wasted Words, a rant had built so much pressure in my throat, I was either going to breathe fire or puke lava the second I unscrewed the clamp that was my jaw and spoke.

  Greg saw me from behind the bar and frowned, his hand pausing its circular track on the bar top. Then Beau behind him, his brows sliding together. And just beyond the bar was the person I really wanted to see—Jett, with a stack of books under his arm and another in his hand. He stopped when he saw me, his face shifting from confusion to unadulterated fury to mirror mine.

  His long legs got him to me faster than I could have gotten to him. “What happened?”

  “Darcy happened.” I took off my bag and slammed it on the bar. “Beau, a Sazerac, please.”

  He and Jett shared a look to communicate their alarm at my deficit of fucks. Jett set his books down.

  “What did he do?” he asked darkly.

  “Shot me down in front of the whole team for suggesting we push the mixer angle. Not only did he not hear me out, but he successfully subdued me at a conference table and managed to insult me along the way. Oh, and then he tried to apologize and couldn’t do it. Like, physically incapable. I don’t think anyone’s ever told him off before.”

  “And you volunteered to be the first.”

  “Somebody had to. Thank you,” I said to Beau, picking up my potent drink and taking a delicate sip. If I’d ordered whiskey like I normally did, it would have turned into three so fast, I’d end up hammered before lunch.

  It was then that I unleashed the wrath, recounting everything until I had all three of the guys on the edge of their proverbial seats. When I finally took a breath, followed by a sip of my drink, I realized Cam had pulled up to the conversation with a guy I didn’t recognize by her side.

  His eyes met mine. Held. We smiled.

  He was handsome in a classic way, tall and lean and made of appealing angles. Cool eyes assessed me, the shadow of golden scruff sharpening his jaw. His roguish smile was higher on one side, and something about him promised something to me. I instantly wanted to know what that promise was.

  Cam looked more than a little worried at my account of the meeting. “So it went well, then?” Her default—sarcasm.

  I exhaled, feeling lighter, having vented off the pressure of my rage. “It’ll be fine. I think we made a truce. Well, I told him we were trucing. I didn’t give him a chance to refuse.”

  “That explains the calls I missed from Georgie.”

  The guy shifted. “So Liam hasn’t changed, I see.”

  My brow quirked. “And who are you?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Cam started. “Wyatt Wickham, this is Laney Bennet. Wyatt is with Forbes.”

  “Fancy,” I teased, extending my hand. “Nice to meet you,
Wyatt. How do you know the Darcys? Has Liam made it his life’s mission to make you miserable too?”

  “You have no idea.” A sigh through his nose, his lips together in a not the whole story sort of smile. “Liam and I went to Columbia together.”

  “Oh, so you’re a friend of Cooper’s too?”

  “I am. His call is why I’m here. I’m doing a piece on the expansion.”

  “Well, I’m sorry you had to hear my rant. It was a long train ride. I almost spewed it to the unsuspecting bum trying to nap across from me.”

  Wyatt chuckled. “I’m sorry he got to you. Don’t let him know, though. I think it’s how he feeds.”

  I laughed, realizing everyone was watching us with a little too much curiosity for my taste. “Care for a drink? I know it’s not even noon, but if we’re going to start an anti-Darcy club, I think we’re going to need booze. That is, if you’re finished. Or when you’re finished. Or whatever,” I rambled.

  “Oh, we’re finished,” Cam said with that wily smile she wore when she was trying to set somebody up. “Have your drink, and Wyatt—you should come to our next mixer. If you really want to see us in action, that’s the time and place.”

  “I’ll be here,” he said, looking straight at me with that smile.

  Finally, a nice guy. I sighed again, my faith in the universe restored.

  Jett watched with suspicion before sticking his hand out for a shake, which he gave with a little too much force to be considered completely casual. “I’m Jett, Laney’s brother.”

  Wyatt nodded with understanding. “Pleasure. Care to have a drink with us?”

  “If I wasn’t on the clock, I’d happily sit between you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you have books to shelve?”

  “I do. Right over there.” He nodded with meaning to a bookshelf just beyond the bar area, where he would not only have a clear view, but a short enough distance to potentially eavesdrop.

  “Well,” Cam said with an abundance of cheer, “we’ll leave you to it. Won’t we, boys?”

  They nodded and dispersed, leaving us about as alone as we could get in a bar.

  “So a journalist, huh?” I took a sip of my drink as Greg dropped off Wyatt’s beer.

  “Ever since I was a kid. My school didn’t have a paper, so I made one myself.”

  “You didn’t,” I said on a laugh.

  I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, unsure why that knot was so sexy. “Did too. When the principal shut it down, I ran a First Amendment protest. Got the whole school to stand silently in the cafeteria with gags on, holding protest signs. The next semester, an official school paper was formed, and yours truly was the editor in chief.”

  “How resourceful.”

  “What can I say? I’ve come up with all kinds of creative ways to get what I want.”

  There it was again—that promise. I laughed to cover the hot blush on my cheeks as he took another drink.

  “How about you?” he asked. “What do you do?”

  “I’m in marketing—a social marketing director. Unlike you, I did not birth any movements, but I’ve always loved art and aesthetics. If my mother had her way, I’d be running our family’s flower shop.”

  “Flower shop? Wait, Bennet … you’re one of the Longbourne Bennets?”

  “You know who we are?” I asked, amused.

  “Sure. We covered the whole Longbourne-Bower feud through to the end. You guys are low-key famous, didn’t you know?”

  “That is so weird.” A chuckle. “But yes, I’m one of those Bennets. I actually did their marketing until the big corporate team took over.”

  “You couldn’t head it up?”

  His curiosity wasn’t judgmental, but I felt the prickle of defensiveness all the same.

  “They had things well in hand, and Wasted Words needed somebody. So Jett and I moved to the Upper West to be close to work, and here we are. Now I’m part of the marketing team for our expansion. I mean, in theory, at least.”

  “Ah, hence the connection to Darcy. Cooper called that one in too, huh?”

  “Yet another resourceful guy. I don’t know how he does it all. The other owner, Rose, is on maternity leave, so I’m afraid you won’t meet her. Unless you’re planning on sticking around?”

  “You know, I think I just might.”

  I watched him tip his pint glass, the golden liquid disappearing past lips I found myself very much interested in. When he set the empty glass on the bar, the foam slid down the walls to the bottom as he stood, grabbing his bag.

  “If I wasn’t gonna see you soon, I’d ask you out.” He laid a twenty on the bar, but his gaze was on me.

  “Well, tell me when so I can print up pins for our new anti-Darcy club.” My heart fluttered in my rib cage like I was a teenager.

  “The mixer. That is, assuming you’ll be there.”

  “And if not?”

  “Then I need to know so I can ask you to dinner.”

  “You can ask me to dinner anyway, you know.”

  His head bobbed side to side in mock thought. “I could, but this is more exciting, isn’t it?” With that smile firmly in place, he backed away. “See you there.”

  “I suppose you will,” I answered. He walked backward a few paces, before turning for the door.

  And I smiled down at my drink, undeniably optimistic despite Liam Darcy’s best efforts.

  7

  Inconvenient Truths

  LIAM

  Georgie didn’t utter a single word the entire car ride home.

  I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye as we sat in the back of the Mercedes and found her in the same immovable position she’d been in since we’d climbed in—arms folded and jaw set, her fiery gaze locked somewhere beyond the window.

  And just like her, I maintained my silence, knowing she’d blow up on me when she couldn’t keep it to herself anymore. Asking her what was wrong—especially since I knew exactly what was wrong—would be a fatal mistake, one I’d made enough times to know better.

  So the silence continued from Midtown and up the length of Madison Avenue. Even when we rounded the block to Fifth and pulled up to our building, she said nothing, only beat the doorman to opening the car door, making sure to slam it in my face before I could follow her. With a sigh, I opened it again. The doorman took it from me, offering his apologies, which I assured him were unnecessary. And I followed my sister inside.

  She’d gotten enough of a lead on me that I barely made it into the elevator with her. Her nose was in the air, her cheeks rosy and lips flat as she studiously ignored me up fifteen floors, the only sound the dinging demarcating each one. Once at our floor—the top floor—the doors opened, and she blew up to the front door, unlocking and throwing it wide.

  Hands in my pockets, I followed her at a distance. By my estimation, we were about at critical mass. Her heels clicked on the hardwood as she headed for the stairs, but I turned for the kitchen in search of the liquor cabinet, knowing she’d be right behind me.

  Halfway up the stairs, her footfalls stopped. Stomped back down. Clicked in my direction. I’d just put the topper on a decanter of scotch when she flew into the kitchen and leveled me.

  “You were supposed to apologize,” she shot, slamming her purse on the island.

  “I tried,” I said simply, taking a sip of my drink.

  “Unsurprisingly, you somehow managed to upset her even more. What did you say?”

  For a moment, I didn’t answer, staring into my glass as I swirled the amber liquid around. “She’s a difficult person to apologize to—she wouldn’t stop talking long enough for me to explain. Everything I said made her mad. How do you talk to someone like that?”

  “You listen, you wait, and then you try again.”

  “She stormed off before I could wait or try again. But I did listen. She was right about some things, wrong about others.”

  Georgie exhaled in a loud, controlled sigh. “You have to fix this. She is an emplo
yee of our client, not some girl you met in a bar.”

  “We did meet in a bar.”

  She made an impatient sound. “What has gotten into you? Why can’t you show her common professional respect?”

  My brow quirked, my eyes back on my drink. I answered both questions with three words.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve never been what anyone would call charming, but you’ve crossed the line on this one.”

  “She and I seem to fundamentally disagree, but rather than keeping it to herself, she reacts without thinking. She’s rude, quick to fight, and can’t stop herself from voicing the multitude of feelings she has on any given topic.”

  “So what you’re saying is that she’s too much like you. Except for the feelings thing.”

  “We’re nothing alike, George.”

  She laughed, a full-blown burst from the bottom of her belly. “Sometimes, I wonder how it’s possible that someone so successful could be so clueless. I am so mad at you—so mad—and you are in the biggest trouble. You degraded her in front of a room of colleagues, which made you look far worse than her—the team has been gossiping about it all day. So you need to come up with a way to smooth things over. Dig deep and get over yourself so you can work with her. She’s not going anywhere, and I don’t care if Cooper Moore is a buddy of yours or not—he’s going to be unhappy if you continue to mistreat her. And if Aunt Catherine hears you’ve potentially put an account of this size at risk, she’s going to flay you.”

  None of it was untrue.

  “Figure it out, Liam. Take a second to recognize that her traits—the ones that make you act like an animal—are alive and well in you. Maybe if you focused more on your similarities instead of getting twisted every time she opens her mouth, you’ll see you could be an excellent team. But either way, we’re not having this conversation again. Okay?”

  I made a noncommittal noise rather than answer, taking a drink.

  With a huff, she turned to leave. “You’re exhausting.”