pretend that it was just a meaningless fuck with no consequences, but nothing could be further from reality.
No, nothing was the same.
She slowed as Darcy’s face appeared before her eyes. How could she have been so blind? No wonder he was stunned by her ignorance. He had been offering his affections to her for so long, she realized now. With the remarkable clarity of hindsight, she was able to see it all: the kindness he had shown her when performing, the way he comforted her when she was troubled, the solo he had played just for
Okay, point one: He loved her, or at least he thought he did. Did she love him? All the orderliness of her thoughts fell away at that one question. Did she? She didn’t think she did, but she remembered what he had said: “You cannot make love the way we did and
She certainly had never had sex like that. She caught a whiff of his scent trapped in her hair and her gut clenched. “Oh God,” she whispered. What had she done?
She struggled to pull herself together. Even if he was right, even if they had made love, that didn’t mean she loved him and even if she did, he was pushing her. Of that fact she could be sure, and she grasped on to it tightly. She had asked him, begged him to slow down, and he hadn’t. He wouldn’t back down, and in the end he had pushed her right out the door.
And now they were on opposite sides of the door, and neither was happy. She sighed heavily and rose. When she returned to the sidewalk, she paused for a full minute, not sure which way to turn her feet. In the end, her pragmatism turned her toward the north. She knew she would see Will at the rehearsal and they could speak there. It would be better that way, safer, because they couldn’t get distracted or carried away.
Realizing she had found as much peace as she could, she put the question of “what comes next?” out of her mind and walked uptown. She still couldn’t admit that she loved him, but she wasn’t willing to rule that out of her future, and she did know she needed to know him better, and he needed to know more about her.
That thought triggered a flash of annoyance in her jaw. He hadn’t seemed to care about her feelings. He was so certain of her, which in a way was flattering, but at the same time galling. Was she that predictable? And even if she was, where did he get off telling her what she felt? Okay, yes, she was very uncertain of her feelings, but still, she disliked the way he told her what she felt—once again, taking control of everything around her. Mr. Control Freak.
At least she understood now why he was so controlling. She still felt sorry for him for what happened to Georgiana, but at the same time, she needed to work out her own life, not be controlled by someone else, no matter how well meaning.
It was a relief when the hotel where she would meet Jane and the others finally came into view. She entered the restaurant, knowing she was an hour early. She wasn’t hungry, but she knew she needed her strength for what was to come.
She ordered and ate her meal without tasting any of it. Her mind and indeed her spirit were miles away.
Darcy watched the elevator doors close with a feeling of helplessness. Without knowing what he did, he grabbed the first object he found and threw it, the crystal vase smashing into the closed doors and shattering to a million pieces.
“Nice job,” Richard said quietly.
Darcy gave him a black look.
“I heard your discussion with Elizabeth,” he continued, ignoring Darcy’s expression. “That was good. I was impressed.”
“Shut up!” Darcy growled violently.
“No, really, it was good. I especially liked the way she walked out on you.”
Darcy spun on his cousin, finding his right fist pulled back by his ear and not knowing how it had gotten there. He froze. He had not punched Richard since he was fifteen. “Why? Why are you doing this?”
Richard shrugged. “Just wanted to share the misery.”
“Fuck you!” Darcy swore emphatically as he walked to his bedroom.
“Why not? Everyone else has.”
Darcy slammed the door and slid down against it. He couldn’t go to his bed. It was too much. Too many memories lay there. “Lizzy,” he breathed.
Why? Why had she walked away? He loved her, and she loved him. He was certain of it. He knew, from the way she had kissed him, last night, on the stool.
His mind was distracted by the memory of the stool, by the incredible feeling of entering her, of sinking himself into her, of their limbs being tightly intertwined and her cries of passion as he pleasured her again and again.
The ice-cold fact that she was gone broke in on his awareness, shattering the beautiful memory. She was gone! The vision of her face, sad and pitying as she told him she didn’t love him, replaced the vision of her ecstasy, and he was desolate.
Why? He had offered her everything: his love, his home, his wealth, his very soul. He simply wanted to love her, to worship her with his complete being.
He snorted. Apparently that wasn’t enough. Elizabeth Bennet didn’t want that. Where she thought she would find better, he could not, in all honesty, imagine. No one would, or could, love her the way he did.
And her career! Didn’t she see what he could do for her career? She thought she wanted to make it alone? Fine! She would see just how alone she could be.
With an ugly scowl, he dressed himself. He had a rehearsal to make, and he was going to teach Elizabeth a lesson.
It was one of those days that Caroline Bingley was sure she was not paid enough. She was stuck at Radio City Music Hall with three of the crankiest men on the planet and a bitch producer from MTV, and to top it off, she hadn’t seen her lover, or gotten laid, in over a week!
“TJ? How much longer?” she asked the friendly production assistant who had been assigned to Slurry. The rehearsal had been delayed, as she expected, but they were now well over an hour late and things were getting out of hand. A hip-hop medley of five different artists was the holdup, and it was with a sense of relief that Caroline saw they were finally finished.
“Ten minutes,” TJ answered with a sympathetic smile.
Caroline nodded her thanks, grabbed the bottle of Advil that Charles was about to hurl away in frustration, and opened it for him.
“Thanks, Caro,” he moaned as he popped four of them. Caroline asked TJ for another round of bottled water for the band as she stood and stretched her legs in the aisle. The band that had been troubled last week was a ragged mess today. Charles was clearly hung over, Richard was snarling from lack of sleep, and Darcy—she paused, Darcy looked worse than she had ever seen him. His expression was dark and bordering on flat-out mean. Caroline found herself in the unusual position of having no idea what had happened. He was fine when he had left the party the night before, but now, she wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley.
The call came and Slurry finally moved onstage. The plan had been that they would play an acoustic version of “Bound,” but the look in Darcy’s eye told Caroline that was not going to happen.
Darcy looked at the bitch producer from MTV who had insulted them all day to Anne de Bourgh, who looked at him with open disdain. He was fed up with women right now, convinced they were the source of all the misery in his life, but it was only when he saw Elizabeth and her band mates enter the theater and take a seat in the back
