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

by Staci Hart

  It was brilliant.

  She was going to win.

  Wordlessly, I flipped through her resources, and she did the same.

  It was several minutes before she broke the silence.

  “You’re going to win.”

  A laugh shot out of me at her tone—both resigned and awed, with a side of snark—and her wrongness. And when I looked down at her, I realized we’d drifted closer to each other. Close enough that when she glanced at me, she had to tilt her chin up to meet my eyes, leaving me peering into her face like a wishing well.

  Her smile was curious. “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking the same thing—you’re going to win.”

  Still smiling, her brow quirked. “You’re a walking contradiction. Has anyone ever pointed this out to you?”

  “No one’s quicker to point out my faults than you.”

  “Not even Georgie?”

  “Oh, she does, but not with near the enthusiasm or frequency as you do. Have we ever had a conversation where you haven’t noted my shortcomings?”

  She blushed but made light. “You make it so easy.”

  A single laugh puffed out of me. I don’t know which of us moved, who shifted, who turned. But our hands brushed, the smooth topography of her knuckles grazing the back of my hand. A shock of awareness bolted up my arm and down my spine, and though I took a too-fast step to put space between us, my eyes hung on her lips as her cheeks flushed to match their color.

  I turned back to her presentation, eager to move past the feeling, futile as the attempt was. “I mean it, Laney. This is impressive. I did have a thought—what if you used olive instead of teal as your contrast? It would bring the scheme together and is still masculine enough to work for your knockout. For detailing, you could throw in an emerald.”

  “I really like that idea,” she said in disbelief.

  “Another thing I thought—what if you pulled in a secondary element? Something to tie each directive together. Like incorporating a monochromatic floral for the romance, a halftone for the comics … just something to give it texture.”

  Laney gazed at her screen. “You might have just nailed what I’m missing.”

  A smile ignited in my chest and spread like wildfire.

  “But as versatile as mine is,” she continued, “your tagline is too direct, too clear not to win the bid. It explains the concept immediately, but when coupled with the artwork, it’s undeniable.” She clicked through a couple of mine through a pause. “We have a similar style. How … unexpected.”

  “I noticed that too.” The way we approached composition, the detailing and feel of our illustrations could have come from connected thoughts. Though where her colors were a softer set, mine leaned more into deeper tones—blues so deep and warm, they were almost purple. A terracotta shade for contrast. I leaned into the cool, Laney into the warm.

  “What if you did a superhero set like I have, but mix it up with not just a drink, but with actual light? You could throw a neon light effect on the text. Put a lightning bolt in Thor’s hand or use flames. A lighter, a ball of magic…play with the lighting part of getting lit.”

  The idea sparked thoughts so fast, they leapfrogged over each other and away from me. “I didn’t even think of that. We could even put a pop art effect on some of the comic ads, but in a way that would still tie in with the rest.”

  “Oh—that’s good. But don’t you dare touch this color scheme.”

  “Deal.”

  She smiled up at me in such a way that I realized how close she was to me. How little it would take to touch her.

  “Look at us,” she said. “Twice now we’ve talked without me walking away furious. This must be some kind of record.”

  “You haven’t left yet—there’s still time for me to make you mad.”

  With a laugh, she reached in front of me to gather her computer. I caught the scent of her hair, that sweet, crisp floral she was fond of, sparking a runaway imagining of burying my nose in the silken locks, testing their texture between my fingertips.

  What would it be like, to trust her? What would it be to earn her trust?

  How satisfying would it be to allow the indulgence, and how fortunate would I be to win her affection?

  “Well, then, I’d better quit while I’m ahead.” She clutched her laptop to her chest, still smiling. “Well done, Liam. And thanks for the suggestions.”

  I slipped my hands in my pockets so she wouldn’t see me fidget, suddenly flustered. “Same goes. Maybe I will beat you, now that you’ve given me advice.”

  “That was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Lure me in so you can figure out how to beat me?”

  “Am I that transparent?”

  “I already regret it,” she teased.

  The door flew open, startling us toward the sound.

  Georgie walked in talking. “Liam, have you seen—” She came to a halt, her gaze shifting from me, to Laney, then back again. “Laney. Here you are.”

  “Liam was just showing me all his design secrets, not realizing I’m going to use them to beat him.”

  Georgie glanced at me, amused.

  I shrugged. “I just gave her bogus advice, so the game is afoot.”

  “Sabotage makes much more sense than the alternative,” Georgie joked. “Laney, would you meet me in my office? I wanted to discuss our next briefing at Wasted Words. Just need to have a word with Liam first.”

  “Of course,” Laney answered, our smiling eyes meeting before she left.

  The second the door was closed, Georgie flew across the office toward me.

  “Liam Darcy, tell me right now that wasn’t what I think it was.” She wasn’t accusing—she was bubbling with excitement.

  “Depends on what you think it was.”

  “Do you have a crush on Laney Bennet?”

  “What are we, in third grade?”

  “It makes so much sense,” she said half to herself. “All the antagonism, the infighting—”

  “Georgie, your imagination needs a leash. We were just helping each other with our presentations.”

  “Even that!” She motioned to me. “You were helping her.”

  “How can I beat her if I don’t see what she’s got to offer?”

  “You’re a mess, Liam. Wait—” She lit up. “If you’re with Laney, does that mean I can date Jett?”

  The levity of the moment sank like an anvil tossed overboard. “You cannot see Jett Bennet, not any more than I can see Laney. Which I’m not. Whatever our current truce is, it’s temporary. No universe exists wherein Laney and I are a thing.”

  She watched me, seeing too much. “Is that because of her feelings or yours?”

  My face flattened to cover the thunder of my heart. “Does it matter?”

  “It matters.” She waited.

  “Both.” But I didn’t specify which of my feelings kept Laney and I apart.

  She accepted the non-answer as an answer after a moment and a sigh. “We have a meeting with the marketing team in an hour. Are we still going to Catherine’s for dinner tonight?”

  “She confirmed earlier.”

  “Think she’ll make me play the piano for her?”

  “Doesn’t she always?”

  Another sigh. “She makes me feel like a little girl.”

  “Catherine has a knack for making people feel inferior. We’re lucky it’s just our age she holds over us.”

  “True. She can’t exactly fire us, can she?”

  But I gave her a look before we parted and reminded her, “Don’t be so sure.”

  Hours later, the sun had set on the week, and I found myself in Catherine’s penthouse with a scotch in my hand, listening to Georgie play the piano.

  She’d always had a talent for it, though she complained her way through a young lifetime of lessons. When our parents died, the lessons ended, and so did her practice. The only time she played was when we visited our Aunt, and though Catherine never noticed, the sadness in Georgie
rose to the surface with every brush of her fingertips on the ivory keys.

  But my mind was far away, testing the edges of a place they didn’t belong—Laney Bennet.

  Thoughts of her had circled my heart for hours. Days. I wasn’t a man who often wanted what he couldn’t have. I wasn’t a man of longing—I was a man of action. Perhaps the shift had come with the softness that’d arisen between us that week. Maybe it was the slow rise of the possibility of her affection when I believed there to be none. It didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t allowed to have her, even if she was interested. I’d convinced myself she wasn’t—just because she’d put her knives down didn’t mean she cared for me.

  But the feeling was awake in me, and I didn’t know how to soothe it back to sleep.

  The song she played—Chopin, though I didn’t know which—came to a close, the last notes suspended in the air until they faded away.

  “Oh, Georgiana. How lovely. Thank you for indulging an old woman,” she said with a smile.

  The Catherine seated next to me was the one we knew as family. Juxtaposed to the callous CEO of De Bourgh was the more gentle—if not still demanding—woman who had spoiled us at Christmases and was known to occasionally smile, as she was now.

  Georgie stood and curtsied before reaching for her gin and taking a seat.

  “Tell me how the week went,” Catherine said, somehow managing to look both relaxed and stiff at the same time. “The review for the bookstore is next week, is it not? Are you prepared?”

  “We are,” I answered. “We have two strong campaigns for Georgie to review. Strong enough, the client is going to have a hard time choosing.”

  “Liam still thinks he’s going to win though,” Georgie teased.

  Catherine’s brows nudged each other. “Win what?”

  I shot Georgie a look. “Oh, nothing. Just a little friendly competition.”

  “Is Caroline running the other team? I do love a good challenge. It produces the best work when one’s afraid of losing.”

  “No, not Caroline,” I said, figuring now was as good a time as any. She’d find out soon enough. “Laney Bennet.”

  All softness left her. “I thought I was clear regarding my feelings on the Bennet girl, particularly where you and this company are concerned.”

  “The competition was already in play by the time we talked. I wasn’t aware of your feelings before that.”

  Georgie worried her lip.

  “To give her such a place in this project? Liam, this is a blasphemy.”

  I leveled my gaze. “I think that’s a little hasty, don’t you?”

  “I absolutely do not. When there’s a rat in your pantry, you don’t ignore it in the hopes it will go away. You exterminate it.”

  “With all due respect,” I began, “we’ve discussed this. We cannot risk the account or our reputation by disobeying their requests. Laney is a part of the team and she will be for the duration of the project, so tell me what else I can do to ease your mind.”

  Catherine was flushed, and through a thinking moment, she took a drink of her scotch. “Here is my request,” she said, setting the crystal glass on the end table. “I will concede to her presence if the two of you will make me a promise.” She pinned me, then Georgie, with a pointed look. “Stay away from the Bennets outside of work. No more of these little parties you go to, no more fraternization.”

  “I’m afraid I have a cocktail party planned for the firm and the employees of the bookstore tomorrow night,” Georgie said.

  Catherine darkened. “Then do what you must. But from here out, contain your meetings with the owners, not the rest of them. And that directive comes from both your aunt and the owner of the company.”

  I met Georgie’s eyes. We had a silent conversation.

  “We’ll do our best,” I said.

  The tension in Georgie eased at my evasion of a promise.

  “You must understand that I only want to protect you,” Catherine said gently. “I want your happiness and safety.”

  Just not in that order. “We know.”

  She reached for my hand with pleading eyes. “Do you? I’m no stranger to the facts. I am not a maternal woman—the reason the universe denied me children of my own, no doubt—and I am not one for empty gestures or overt displays of affection. But I do love the two of you with savage devotion, even when I fail to show you.”

  Georgie’s face went soft, and she moved to the floor at Catherine’s feet, laying her hand on ours. “We know. You’ve shown us more than you may realize over the years. However could we have survived without you?”

  She laughed, though her eyes sparkled and the tip of her nose was red. “Your brother and I are cut from the same cloth. We do not fail. He would have sorted it out on his own—of that I’m certain.”

  I shifted closer, wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulled her into my side.

  We are cut from the same cloth, I said to myself. Was I so much like her? The cool exterior guarding the well of feelings beneath. The absolute conviction with which she believed herself to be right. Ruling by fear like Laney had said.

  Yes, Catherine and I were much alike, and there were many merits in that sameness.

  But for the first time, I noted the many ways I wish I wasn’t.

  16

  Wait For It

  LANEY

  The second Jett and I walked into the cocktail party the next night, his eyes found Georgie, and that was that.

  Neither of us had come with plus-ones. Jett was alone because of Georgie, even though he was convinced he couldn’t have her, and predictably, she’d come alone too. And I'd come alone because the only prospect of a date that I had was Wyatt, and I didn’t think any of us would have enjoyed that, least of all Georgie.

  The venue was intimate—a bar on an upper floor of a building in Chelsea with a panoramic view of the night city. Squares of light cutting through the dark. The glow from the streets illuminating the buildings from below. It was a reminder of what I’d missed when I moved away, a sight I wouldn’t abandon again.

  Cobalt velvet couches sat against the windows overlooking the city, arranged in little nooks already housing groups of people not only from Wasted Words, but the firm too. A small dance floor stood at the end of the rectangular room, ringed by clusters of people ready to dance the second someone was brave enough to get out there and get it started. Heels and cocktail dresses, suits and ties, drinks in hand and smiles on lips. Music bumped from the direction of the DJ booth, and I caught sight of Cam wiggling around in a sequined black dress, singing along to Lizzo while Tyler laughed hard enough that he couldn’t seem to take a sip of the drink in his hand—the second it reached his lips, a fresh twerk would have him laughing again.

  Scanning the crowd, I didn’t find Liam, and I scolded myself once for being disappointed and a second time at the skip in my heart when I promised myself he’d be here.

  I blamed the newfound equality between us, the surprising respect he’d shown me the last few weeks. All I’d had to do was stand up and demand it, and he complied. And lately, I’d found it difficult to hate him with such devotion as I had before. I’d convinced myself it was temporary, carrying my umbrella in the sunshine. Because at some point, the thunderhead would appear, tear open, and douse me.

  It was only a matter of time. Surely Darcy couldn’t maintain permanent civility. It wasn’t in his nature.

  I wished for a moment I did have a date, and my thoughts shifted to Wyatt. He’d only been home a few days, and we’d been too busy to get together, scheduling a date for tomorrow night. I’d been looking forward to his company all week—he made me laugh, was clever and charming, and he was so attentive, being near him felt imperative.

  He was the ideal, ticking every box on the list. But something kept me from jumping in, dampening my enthusiasm to contentment. And as much as I wanted to see him, part of me wasn’t sure why.

  If you have to ask yourself if you want to date him, you don’t want
to, Jett had said. But he was partial.

  Still, I’d been ditched by Jett, and it’d have been nice not to be alone tonight.

  Putting on my game face, I headed for Cam, but I’d only made it a few steps when Collin stepped in front of me.

  “You’re finally here,” he said with one of his brows arched and a smirk on his lips. “And without a date, just like I knew you’d be.”

  “Hi, Collin,” was all I said, unsurprised by his blatant lack of manners.

  “Glad I was right—would have been awkward if you’d had a date and I would have had to spend the night by myself. Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

  “I’m actually good—”

  He grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the bar before letting me go, which thankfully was only a couple of steps. I’d have hated to get arrested for assault on such a nice night.

  “What are you drinking?” He smoothed a hand down the front of his tuxedo T-shirt.

  “Nothing. I’m actually—”

  He smiled slyly. “You don’t have to work so hard to get my attention, Laney. I’ve got this. How about I order for you?”

  I opened my mouth before realizing it was no use arguing, and I really could use a drink. While he ordered, I took a minute to look for an exit route. Georgie and Jett stood close, smiling at each other in a nook of couches. Cam was still busy dancing, and I caught sight of Cooper and his wife nearby, talking to Darcy.

  The second his name hit my mind, he looked right at me.

  The shock stopped my heart, and when it kicked against my sternum, it was with enough force to hitch my breath. I didn’t know what it was about him that elicited such a reaction from me. His intensity, that was for sure. Never before had I been observed with such weight, it crushed my ribs. When he looked at me, it was as a command of attention—a demand impossible to refuse. The sheer size and darkness of him contributed, every angle and every plane. The hard line of his brow. The strong shape of his nose. The stone of his jaw, the width of his lips. Square shoulders and narrow waist, his black suit cut to perfection. His body language alone charged the air around him, and everyone who ventured too close was subject to his will.