by Rosie Praks
“I just…” Clarice choked. “I want to say thanks to the both of you for being in my life. Thank you for supporting me through thick and thin, through primary school, through the bullying, through my heartbreak, and through my pregnancy. Without both of you, I wouldn’t be here today.”
“Oh, Clarice. We’ll always be there for you,” Elise soothed her friend.
“Thank you, Elise. Thank you, Whitney.” Clarice tried to smile, but more tears slid forth.
“No, thank you, Clarice. Thank you for making me a better person. If I didn’t have you, I would have been that stubborn witch forever.”
“And, Clarice, without you, I wouldn’t...”
“Elise, please don’t talk about the past. It’s all bygones now. I’m just glad you’re here to enjoy my wedding day,” Clarice said, reminding her friend not to think of that awful time from many years ago. “And, Whitney, you’re a good witch. I’m sure the one who loves you will see past that tough exterior. You can’t fool us. And I’m sure you can’t fool him either. You’re such a soft, sensitive, mushy woman. And one day, your man will walk into your life and claim your love. I just know it. Your day will come.”
“I know, Clarice. I believe you.” Whitney hugged her again.
Whitney believed her friend. Maybe it was her intuition, but she couldn’t wait to walk through that door and set her sight on one man. She could feel it in her heart. Someone who was so close to her all along.
The three friends stood in front of the giant oak door that led to the wedding ceremony, Mr. Mason holding Clarice’s hand. Suddenly, the piano played. And the door opened. And they walked in, trepidation drumming through Whitney.
She took a step forward, both hands holding Clarice’s train with Elise. Everything was so surreal in her eyes. She could hardly focus on anything. The picturesque mountains outside, the snow glinting in the skylight, the sea of faces sitting on the church pews on either side of the aisle. But they all faded into nothingness when her eyes set on that handsome male sitting on the front seat.
Darcy.
Darcy was dressed in a pure black suit. He was the devil, out to capture her witch’s heart. And she knew right then that she loved him, maybe from the very beginning, but she’d been denying it all along. Oh, how love made your step light, how it swelled at your heart until you couldn’t stop glowing.
Tonight, after the reception, she would confess to Darcy. Tonight, she would tell him her true feelings.
“Whitney, I love you,” Darcy spoke, drawing his lips to hers. “Do you love me, too?”
“Oh, Darcy. I love you. I love you,” Whitney squealed, jumping into his arms.
Darcy was grinning like an idiot, baring his teeth and all. “Then dance with me. Dance with me.”
He took Whitney into his arms and swirled her around the ballroom. Under the moonlit sky, they danced and made love to their heart’s content.
If only that were true. But at least that was his plan anyway. Yep, after the wedding reception, he’d have a word with Whitney and confess to her, and hopefully, it would go as he’d imagined. At the present time, though, he was sitting on the sidelines, miserable. But he could bear it, he told himself. It wasn’t too long to go now. Right?
Wrong!
Darcy felt gutted. No, more like agitated. Actually, he decided seething would be a better description. He was a volcano in its dormant stage. He wanted to erupt and spew hot lava, but under the present conditions, he could only watch in misery the events unfolding before him. The only action he could muster was the movements of his hazel eyes. They were like little beacons, beaming death rays at the man who had his arms around his woman.
Anton. Frecking Anton was still dancing with his boss, for three damn rounds! And he could do naught about it. Yeah, he knew the bride and groom had to dance as an opening act, along with the bridesmaids and their groomsmen. But three rounds? That was a bit much, wasn’t it?
Darcy fidgeted unhappily in his seat. And he also knew he wasn’t the only one waiting impatiently for his turn on that dance floor with his desired partner. Beside him sat a woman with copper hair.
Fern, yep, that was her name. From his previous conversation with Anton back at the ski field, he’d found out she was actually his fiancée. That kind of explained why Fern was hawking over her man, staring at Whitney as if she were her mortal enemy. Not that he could blame the woman. He also wanted to slam Anton down a notch or two. Didn’t they know there were people waiting to dance with them?
Darcy sighed. He guessed they were both jaded, cheated out of their partners, wanting themselves to be the dance partners ASAP.
Darcy switched his gaze to the other couple, Max and Elise. They were a good-looking couple. Except Max bared too much happiness on his face, grinning like an idiot. The boy was chuckling like a little schoolboy. In fact, he was a schoolboy, wasn’t he? Barely seventeen and out of school. And Elise, what was she? Over ten years Max’s senior he estimated from the many interactions he had with the woman.
She was beautiful Darcy found out. She had blond hair with blue eyes, the perfect traits for him. She was his ideal woman. His parents would be proud if he brought her home. But after that night with his boss in the little cabin, his ideal woman had gone out the window. Now his eyes only sought one woman in particular, one woman with hair as dark as coal and skin as pale as ivory. Yep, he’d found her out dancing with Anton, giggling and having so much fun.
Whitney.
How long had he referred to her by her first name and not the witch? Darcy realized it was last night that had changed everything.
Darcy stole another glance at the woman dancing next to Clarice and Hunter. Even though he’d only seen her just half an hour ago when she was walking down that aisle, he still felt he hadn’t seen her often enough. He wanted to feast his eyes on her every day.
Darcy stole yet another glance at her. Whitney really was beautiful tonight. Every breath he took, every glance he took, they were all affected because of her.
Darcy sighed sadly. He really wished he knew Hunter sooner. Then he could be one of his groomsmen. He wanted to dance with Whitney, swirling with her in that slow waltz, his fingers lingering on her bare back, making love to her again on that dance floor.
Darcy cheered up. The night was still young. He knew his opportunity was coming soon.
But he would have preferred it to be sooner.
So Darcy decided to sit still in his seat, like a good boy, his eyes hawking over his woman, waiting for that perfect opportunity when the song would end and he’d snatch her up. Yep. One more song. Just one more song. And then she’d be his.
Darcy eyed all the contenders, seeing who else would be interested in his woman. In one dark corner, he spotted Johnathan leering at Whitney like a lion hungry for a piece of juicy steak.
Darcy knew. Oh, Darcy knew all right. He called himself a Casanova. He knew what the look in those eyes meant. He used those eyes when he wanted to bed a woman. Right then, he knew Johnathan wanted Whitney back.
Oh shit! The idea of Whitney in bed with Johnathan had blood roaring in his gut.
“The bastard,” Darcy swore under his breath. As if he would give that bastard a chance. The guy had ruined his chance once. He wasn’t going to let those dirty fingers fall on his woman again.
Darcy cracked his knuckles and jerked his neck in preparation for some mean action. And as soon as he heard the song end, he launched forward, charging into the crowd, fighting his way like a salmon swimming upstream. Thankfully, Darcy made it to the middle of the dance floor where Whitney and Anton had been dancing before. But when he got there, Whitney had gone.
“Kid, where did Whitney disappear off to?” he asked Max as soon as he saw the familiar boy cooing with his dance partner.
“Somewhere,” Max said, hand still clinging to Elise. “She’s gone that way. And I’m not a kid. I’m a man.”
Darcy didn’t listen to Max’s complaint. He had more important things to deal with. Like
Johnathan.
Darcy slammed his fist into his palm. Just wait. He’d set the record straight for sure. First confront Johnathan, talk to him about not interfering in Whitney’s life ever again, and then he’d sort out Whitney’s and his relationship. Darcy knew how he felt about her. But what about Whitney’s feelings for him. Did they change during the course of their holiday?
Darcy was confused as shit. For one, after tonight, they’d be back to their boss-subordinate relationship. He didn’t mind dating his boss, but what about her? What would she think?
Oh God! He hated it. Hated to be the one at the receiving end. He needed to get these feelings straight out in the open. Maybe it’d be best to confront Whitney first. Talk it out with her about their feelings for one another, then talk some sense into Johnathan.
Yes, he needed to find his boss first.
And so he did. He went to search for her.
And he did find her.
Except it was already too late. Hidden among the bushes, in the quiet serenity of the night, she was embracing her ex-boyfriend. And they were kissing.
Darcy felt his heart plummet. His face twisted in pain.
So they’re back together. He, Darcy the irresistible, was only a game for their entertainment.
And why was he falling for her again? She was the evil witch, his tyrant boss Whitney, for crying out loud. And now she was back with her boyfriend. Of course, it had to be that way.
Darcy turned away from the scene, head down, heart dejected. He might as well leave, find a woman to spend his lonely night with, because starting next week, the woman he’d desired, who was in another man’s arms, would be his boss once again.
Chapter 24
Whitney had her arms folded across her chest, a stance that showed she was pissed off at the man standing in front of her. That man had dragged her off the dance floor and to this isolated spot in the garden, wanting to talk to her about something. And here she waited for him to speak, but all he did was stare at her.
“What do you want, Johnathan?” she asked the stranger that used to be her boyfriend.
“I know you two were pretending to be Hunter and Clarice, the couple who just wedded. I think you should stop pretending to be the wife of that boy toy of yours now.” Johnathan let out the truth at last.
Whitney almost choked. Boy toy? Was he referring to Darcy? My gosh! Was she really that old? She was only thirty-one for Christ’s sake.
But then again, why should she believe what Johnathan said? He’d always been the type of man to always look down on people. Even his ex-girlfriend.
“The game’s over.” Johnathan kept talking. “So just give up and come back to me.”
Whitney could only glare at her ex-boyfriend. Always straight to the point. Was this why she fell in love with him all those years ago? Now all she saw was his arrogance, like his upturned nose, which she found desirable in her younger life.
Before Whitney could answer, Johnathan was already pulling her forward and hugging her. Then he kissed her on the lips, without her permission.
Whitney reacted harshly, pushing him back and slapping his cheek. Hard. Then she repeatedly wiped her lips.
It was disgusting. She hated it. Hated to be in this positon. Hated to be demoralized like this.
“What did you do that for?” she seethed.
“Testing. To see whether you still felt something for me.”
Whitney just wanted to scratch his eyes out. What was he thinking? Was he so pathetic?
“Johnathan, for goodness sakes. It’s been eight years already. We’re practically strangers now. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“You didn’t find that kiss tempting?”
“Are you stupid? I don’t love you. I find your kiss disgusting. There was no chemistry whatsoever. So just leave me alone and let me live my life in peace.”
“Stop lying to yourself, Whitney. I know you want a man. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be all cozy and comfy with that guy.”
Whitney gritted her teeth. “That was the whole point, wasn’t it? It’s because I don’t want to see your face. I don’t like you. So get over it.”
“You always had a sharp tongue. That’s why I found you appealing before. Now, at our mature age, you’re even more beautiful.”
“Are you thinking to use sweet words to tempt me? I’m not so naïve anymore. A man like you doesn’t deserve a woman like me,” Whitney bit back, giving Johnathan her poisonous tongue.
“You sure speak highly of yourself.” Johnathan lashed back at her. “You think men will tolerate a woman like you. You’re like a rose with thorns. A witch in the flesh. Who would want you to be their woman? I’m offering you a kindness. Now come back to me.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. Just saying if you don’t accept me, you’ll be a spinster forever.”
“You think I can’t find a man? As if you’re that perfect. I prefer to be a spinster than become your life partner. Listen to me carefully, Johnathan. This is the last time I’ll say this. I am over you. And let me remind you this so you can store it in your thick skull. You were the one that jilted me that day. You ran away with another girl before our wedding. You’re lucky I didn’t run after you with an ax and cut off your balls.
“If I still loved you or even had a small amount of feeling for you, I would have some anger from seeing you again after all this time. But all I’ve felt is annoyance these past few days. So there. It shows I have no feelings for you. It’s best if you go on your way. Clarice didn’t invite you to her wedding. So stop gatecrashing other people’s business.”
Johnathan backed down, but not before giving his last piece of venom. “Then be prepared to live your life as a spinster forever, because no man will ever want you, Whitney.”
“I don’t need a man in my life if he’s going to cause me heartache. If they can’t deal with me, then so be it. I have friends and family who love me. Now go. And be a good man and stop appearing before me,” she hissed in his face.
Whitney watched Johnathan walking away. Relief flooded her system as soon as he was out of her sight.
But gosh! That confrontation was horrible. What a waste of time and breath. It completely ruined her evening. She had so much fun dancing with Anton before. And now this.
Was it too much to ask? She just wanted one small moment alone with Darcy so they could talk out their feelings for each other, because next, they’d be back to being boss and subordinate. And she really wanted—no, needed—to find out how Darcy felt about her.
Was it her imagination or was it based on actual fact that Darcy did feel something for her, especially after that night? Inside, she wanted the latter to be true.
Picking up her dress, she made her way back into the ballroom, a broad smile on her face. But before she could take a step inside, she heard a mewing sound, like a woman crying in the midst of ecstasy.
Whitney knew she shouldn’t look. It was never good to eavesdrop or peek in on other people making out, but something was drawing her to them.
Whitney tiptoed to the bushes where the couple was making out. She parted the leaves and looked.
It was only one quick peek, but it was enough to send her heart tumbling and tears streaming down her face. Her perfectly constructed witch persona was completely destroyed in that second.
Whitney hastened her steps, wanting to get to an isolated spot so she could compose herself . As soon as she was in the winter garden, a manmade shelter in a glasshouse, she broke down and cried.
Darcy. Oh God, it was Darcy. That image was still fresh in her mind. Darcy was fisting the girl’s hair, tilting her chin up to glide his mouth over hers, while the girl was crying out in pleasure. Darcy and that blond-haired woman were kissing each other. They were practically making out in the bushes.
Oh God! Johnathan was right. The realization blasted through her. Who would want a woman like her? Vile, tyrant, bossy. She was a witch through and through. And here she’d thoug
ht Darcy was a little different, after they’d been through that charade to fool Johnathan.
But could she really blame Darcy? After all, he was just like all the other young, hot-blooded males, ready for some action when offered, especially from such a beautiful woman. He did say his ideal woman was blond. And she was definitely a blondie.
So why did she have to have feelings for him? She couldn’t have her heart broken twice. She knew she’d die if she let herself fall deeper for Darcy. So she willed herself to calm down, but those stupid tears just wouldn’t listen. They rained down her cheeks like a broken dam.
Oh God, why was it so painful to be in love? Why couldn’t her love life be like others? Why must she suffer the same heartbreak over men, again and again? It wasn’t fair. So not fair.
But she knew life was rarely ever fair. Like Clarice, her friend had fought hard to get to where she was today, going through that refugee camp, fighting against bullying, and achieving a career in the dental field, being recognized by many academics around the world. And now she’d found Hunter, the love of her life, after falling pregnant with his child.
And Elise, her other dear friend, she’d lost her parents in a car crash and, with no other siblings or relatives to turn to, had suffered depression. Elise had fought hard, and now she was happy again.
So what if it was a little heartbreak? She wasn’t going to die from it. But why did it feel like her heart was being stabbed with a knife again and again. It was so painful she just wanted to curl into a ball and cry.
Of all the people in the world, why must she fall for her idiot PA? Why him? He was nothing special. He wasn’t even up to her par in reputation. He was also a good five years younger. They weren’t compatible one bit. But during the course of those five days, they had fun, so much fun that she’d unexpectedly fallen in love with him.
Whitney laughed drily at herself.
You stupid old woman. Get your act together. Love is not the only thing in the world.
But no matter what she told herself, or how she tried to console herself with positive words, the tears just wouldn’t stop flowing.