by H. M. Ward
“What? Today?” I laugh at him. “That’s not going to make this go away. It’s a Band-Aid. You can’t hide who you are—obviously, considering your naked ass is plastered across a gossip blog—no matter how much you want to protect your parents. Even if you do marry me, people are going to talk about this.”
“I know you’re right, but it buys me time. Deep inside, I always knew my parents saw me as their trophy boy. Someone to show off as the future heir to their oil empire.” His voice sounds harsh as he speaks, shoving his hands into his hair and tugging hard. He sighs and sinks back into the couch, tucking his chin to his chest, afraid to look up at me.
“Why do you put up with it? Why would you live a lie for this?”
Glistening eyes meet mine. “They’re the only family I have.”
My heart aches for him. It’s not true. “You’re wrong, Colin.” I reach for the box. ”I’m your family, too.” Taking the ring out, I slide it onto my ring finger on my left hand. I hold my hand out, wiggling my fingers. “I always have been and always will be. If a piece of paper makes your life that much better, I can’t say no.”
His face turns serious as if he can’t believe that I’m doing this. “I’m sorry. I understand how much I'm asking of you.”
I take his hand. “Yes, I am sure. You’ve saved me from enough heartache and disasters. It seems silly to wait around for a fantasy.”
“Beth,” he shakes his head and tries to take the ring off my finger.
“Hey!” I pull my hand away. “No backsies. It’s mine. Back off bitch!”
Colin offers a weak smile. He knows I’m fucking up my life to cover this up. Making light of it brings out the best in him, the guy that wants me to be happy.
“You’re really going to go through with this?”
“Are you really going to walk down the aisle with me? Do you really want to live with me? I’m kind of a pain in the ass. Ask my mother.”
He laughs. “No, you’re not. You’re selfless and perfect, beautiful inside and out. I couldn’t dream up a better person.” He wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek. Tears prickle my eyes, but I blink them back.
I know how much shit he’s taken, just from the gossip that he might be gay. Being rich, Texan, and a politician’s son leaves no room for the truth. They’ll beat it out of him if I don’t help, and the friend I love will wither away. This will protect him. It’s something I can do.
We both swat away tears when we pull back. I stand and hold out my hand in the light. “Now, for the worst part.”
“Which is…?”
“We have to tell Mother.”
I open my Facebook page and click on Relationship Status. I click on the arrow button and moved from Single to Engaged. Slowly, I type in the name: Colin Frey.
CHAPTER 30
I focus on the rhythm of my feet slapping against the pavement, the whoosh of air and accompanying flap of my t-shirt as my arms pump in an opposite motion. White clouds of mist pass over my lips and into the path before me as my lungs pant warm breath into the crisp evening air. The sun touches the tops of the trees, casting long, playful shadows as it descends. I wind and weave down the familiar trail through Central Park for the second time in twenty-four hours. Drowning my sorrows in jogging is better than drowning my sorrows in ice cream, right?
I left as late as I could from the office, dreading the thought of facing my mother. After my Facebook post, Mrs. Frey took the matter of publicity into her own hands. The official announcement of our engagement went viral before dinnertime. By bedtime, we were trending on Twitter.
‘Meet the future Frey,’ headlines on every conceivable society column, followed by a picture of my smiling face and our official wedding date: Valentine’s Day. The event will be sooner rather than later.
My life is a lie.
My soon-to-be-husband is gay.
I’ve still got William Darcy touching me in my dreams. How will I explain that to Colin on our honeymoon? ‘Sorry I was moaning in bed last night and woke up all hot and bothered. Dream Darcy was doing me again.’ Yeah, perfect.
Dad’s spent the afternoon acting all cloak and dagger. He appeared at work after lunch with no explanation for his absence. He was still working at his desk after Sandra had gone home and I'd closed everything else up for the night. I wanted to stay with him, but he insisted I leave. He’d already gotten several emails from business associates congratulating him on my engagement to Colin, and insisted I had "more important things to do than babysit an old man."
The moment I stepped foot into the apartment, Mother began complaining non-stop about Andrea Frey usurping the arrangements. I tried to convince her she could co-host the wedding. Somehow that upset her more than not hosting at all. I should’ve known better. Mother is all about appearances and allowing Mrs. Frey to hijack the wedding implies we can't afford it—at least, it does in Mother’s eyes.
After failing at comforting my mother, I try comforting Jane instead. It hurts my heart to see her eyes red-rimmed and her nose puffy. She put on a brave face as she listened to Mother's plans for our wedding wardrobe, but her heart wasn't in it. Mother was visibly disappointed Cameron was gone, babbling on and on about how Jane should have changed her personality more to Mr. Bingham's preference. She should have been more sociable, more outgoing, more fun, less Jane. When Mother suggested Jane should join a Toastmaster’s International club, I just about blew it.
Mother made it sound like it was Jane’s fault Cameron left. The way I see it, if Cameron allows Darcy to dictate his life on matters of this importance, he’s a moron unworthy of Jane. Either way, that's when I decided I needed to get out of the house.
I force my thoughts to the present, running faster, releasing pent up anger. I'm angry with Mother for failing to see genuine beauty in the daughter she treats like a toy. I'm angry with Dad for allowing both his health and his bank account to deteriorate. I'm angry with Michael and Andrea Frey for not seeing or appreciating the wonderful son they have. Most of all, though, I'm angry with William Darcy for making me believe there was a decent human being somewhere deep inside him.
I slow down as I near Bethesda Terrace. It’s my favorite spot in Central Park. Overlooking the lake from the terrace and hearing the sound of the fountain brings me a sense of peace. I stop running and catch my breath, letting the silence surround me.
Just as my heart rate begins to slow, my phone vibrates intrusively from my pocket startling me and setting me back on edge. Angry all over again, I pull out the phone to read the text message.
MOM: Call me immediately.
I sigh as I return the phone to my pocket. I glance around the terrace, noticing a small group of tourists studying a map and a young couple straddled across matching bikes, drinking water. I place my hands on my hips, walking toward the stone railing, taking in gulps of air. Sweat beads on my forehead and my tank top clings to my body.
Taking a swig of water, I watch the group of tourists leave the terrace, heading off toward their destination. I cough, nearly choking, when I see William Darcy leaning against the stone railing.
My heart races at the sight of him. He’s wearing the same white shirt and gray slacks. Except now his face is dark with a five o’clock shadow. His eyes look bloodshot as if he’s been crying or drinking. He looks dangerous.
When his eyes lock with mine, I take a step back. There’s a fierce determination on his face making his eyes blaze with a brilliant blue fire. I mentally slap myself for being intimidated. He’s an asshole of the worst kind.
Jutting my chin out, I snap, “You have some nerve coming here. How the hell did you find me?”
“If you don’t want people to know where you are, stop posting your location on Facebook.”
“Fuck you.”
“I tried, remember?” The corner of his mouth tips up, mirth mingling with that fire boiling beneath the surface.
My eyes flash up when I hear his low chuckle. “I don’t need this shit.” As I turn to le
ave, Darcy grabs my arm.
“Wait. There’s something I need to say.” He pulls me to him. He’s so close, I smell the alcohol on his breath. His face changes and the raw emotion I saw earlier is back again.
“What?” I push him away and step back, folding my arms over my chest, waiting.
He takes a breath then his hand is suddenly caressing my face. My eyes widen with shock.
“Beth, I can’t stop thinking about you. These past few months have been torturous. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. Your face, your words haunt my dreams. I don’t understand it.”
My eyes narrow and I shake off his hand. He’s conning me. He’s trying to make me think he’s into me. “I fell for this once already. I’m not taking the bait a second time.”
He nods slowly. “There were rumors of your engagement to Colin Frey. I didn’t want to believe it. You had no ring.” He glances at my hand and the huge ass rock on my finger.
“I told you it was true.” I wave it in the air at him, wiggling my fingers to show it off.
“I know, but I’d hoped—” he shakes his head and avoids my gaze. “I hoped I wasn’t too late, that I could pull you away from him. I had to try.”
“I don’t understand.”
He closes the space between us, cupping his hands on my cheeks, his blue eyes gazing intently into mine. “I want you”—he swallows thickly—“desperately.”
It feels like he kicked me in the stomach. I can’t breathe. He likes me? No, it’s more than that. He’s saying he’s in love with me? That can’t be right. My lips part and my jaw falls open. I can’t find the words to convey what I mean, what I feel.
“This is cruel, even coming from you.” My hands ball into fists at my sides as tears overflow and spill down my cheeks. “How could you?”
“Beth, please. Give me a chance. It’s not too late, not yet. Then I saw the wedding date, and…”
“Stop! You can’t do this to me. You can’t tell me you want me because some other guy swept me up. I’m marrying Colin, Darcy. Deal with it.”
“You’re rejecting me then.” He looks devastated.
“The conquest is all about the chase, right? I mean, imagine the thrill of bedding me when I was about to walk down the aisle. Imagine me, tossing aside another man for you. You’re a prick, and you only think with your dick.”
He swallows hard. “You think my feelings are only sexual?”
“There’s no reason to lie anymore. I know how you feel.”
His eyes widen, and he sounds flustered. “No, you don’t. Beth, I love you.”
It’s like a knife in my heart. I didn’t realize it until then, but I wanted to hear him say it. That’s the one thing I wanted him to tell me, and I wish it were true.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.” His blue eyes bore a hole into my soul. I’m shivering on the spot, part rage, part regret, wishing he were the man I hoped he was. “Despite your upbringing, your vocation, your parents, and even your sisters, I have fallen for you. Everything within me told me to stay away, that you and your kind were nothing but gold diggers, but I can’t manage this existence any longer. I need you, Beth.”
“Do you really think so little of me?” I laugh and glance around, and then shove him. “You think I’m after your money? Fuck you!” I shove him again. He steps back, indignant.
“Beth—”
“You think I could love someone as heartless and cold as you are? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? I know what you did to Jane. It broke her heart! Don’t deny it.”
“I don’t.” His deep voice is stern.
A flash of electricity fills the sky behind him followed by a low rumble. The smell of rain fills the air. My temper flares white-hot as the lightning. “Why would you do that to her? Why would you do that to your best friend?” I shove him twice, pushing him back to the wall.
He grabs my wrists and hisses in my face, “Because Cameron is my best friend. He’s trusting, fully convinced all people are inherently good. Real life isn’t like that, and too many people already take advantage of his kindness.”
“Are you suggesting Jane was one of those people?”
His jaw tightens, and his face grows dark. “It’s not a suggestion. It’s a fact. Just as it's a fact that your father’s company will soon be bankrupt, so your mother and Jane colluded to trap Cameron into a marriage that will save your family from financial ruin. It's a fact Jane’s not in love with Cameron and a fact Cameron’s so blinded by love, he’s willing to forego drawing up a prenuptial contract—despite urgings from both his financial advisors and his best friend.”
Almost before the words reach my ears, my hand is flying through the air toward his face. Thunder cracks as I simultaneously scream, “You don’t know her! How can you speak so absolutely? How could you be so sure that you’d risk ruining both their lives? Your pride blinds you, William Darcy."
He has the audacity to be shocked. “I can understand why you’d defend her. She is your sister after all,” he says, rubbing his cheek. “It’s unfortunate you're blinded by your love for her.”
Screw guilt! My hand flies up ready to strike his cheek a second time. He catches my fist and growls, “Don’t.”
I jerk my hand out of his. “Who are you to pass judgment against a person you hardly know?”
“I’m not the prejudiced person in this situation.”
Tears are streaking down my face, mixing with rain. “You are, you just don’t see it. You think that Jane doesn’t love Cameron because she doesn’t act the way you think she should. Jane doesn’t display her affections publicly, so whatever you failed to see wasn’t there for a reason—Jane is shy. You of all people should recognize that!”
“I was protecting him!” He sucks in a ragged breath and lets it out slowly. A drizzling rain begins to fall, rapidly causing silvery drops to bead in his hair.
“Right, like you protected Grant’s—”
He snorts.
My nostrils flare at his reaction. “Grant told me what you did to him. He told me everything about you.”
“Really? I doubt that.”
“He did.”
“Wickham told you what favors him.”
“I know you told him to stay away from me.” I glare at him, hating him in that moment.
“You’re not interested in hearing the truth.”
“I already know it.” I snatch his hand off my arm and take off for the stairs.
The drizzle turns to rain. Droplets roll down my face as I jog down the steps. At the last step, I break into a run. When I reach the fountain, I hear him yelling at my back.
“How can you judge my trying to protect my family, my reluctance to trust, when you know what I’ve been through?”
CHAPTER 31
In the arcade underneath the terrace and safe from the rain, I lean against one of the arches, gazing up at the intricate patterns on the ceiling tiles. I want to hear Darcy's story. I know I’m missing small pieces of a big puzzle. I can understand him not trusting, but I can’t condone his actions. I can’t empathize with the fact that he hides his heart so deeply he probably destroyed it.
I’m still there, standing at the bottom of the stairwell, pushing tears off my face when Darcy finds me. The arcade’s lights cast a golden glow on Darcy's wet hair.
“I’m sorry. I won’t trouble you again. I wish you well, Elizabeth.” He turns to leave and steps out into the rain.
My heart is in my throat. I step forward, touching his arm lightly. He stops and turns to me. “Most people mistake my protection of Gwen for the desire to control her, but that’s not it. I want you to understand." He takes a breath. “I need you to understand.”
I look into his eyes and say, “I’m ready to listen.”
His eyes soften, and innocence surfaces within their depths. I catch a glimpse of the little boy inside him. “My father was a corporate raider. You’ve heard about them. They lead a hostile takeover of a company, dissolve it, and then sel
l off the assets to generate profits.”
I nod and fold my arms over my chest.
“My father was good at it, too good. He pissed off the wrong people, and they came after him.” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “It was late at night, and I was sleeping. I was eight and Gwen was just a baby. I woke up to a loud crash downstairs and my mother flying into my bedroom with Gwen. She pushed me to the back of the closet and placed Gwen in my arms. She made me promise to stay in there no matter what I heard. I didn’t understand why she was so scared until I heard gunshots. Gwen woke up and started crying. She told me to rock Gwen and keep her quiet. I begged her to hide with us. She kissed my cheek and then kissed Gwen’s head. She told me to watch over Gwen and then she closed the door.”
His face twists as he recalls the horror of what happened next. “The door didn’t close completely, and I was too afraid to move. I saw everything. Two men crashed into the room and attacked my mother. Gwen started to cry again and I... I placed my hand over her little face.”
He lets out a sob. Rain droplets slide from his hair to his cheeks mixing with tears. “I didn’t want to hurt Gwen, but I didn’t want the men to find us. I tried to keep her quiet. Her little face grew bright red. I thought I was hurting her, but I kept my hand over her mouth, keeping her quiet just like Mom told me to. I kept peeking through the crack hoping the men would leave. My mother was arguing with them saying she didn’t know anything. One of them shoved her to her knees. And the other... The other man shot her in the back of the head.”
My hand flies to my mouth.
He shakes his head, taking a shaky breath. “That’s why I’ve always been protective of Gwen. I watched my parents die, unable to do anything about it. I’ve never felt so powerless, and I vowed never to feel like that ever again. I vowed to take care of Gwen, to watch over her. So when she got Meniere's disease, I convinced her to quit modeling.”
“Meniere’s disease?”
“It’s an inner ear disorder that causes severe vertigo. It's also why I founded my biopharmaceutical company. I'm searching for a cure for her.”