by E. S. Carter
Within seconds he was as naked as the day he was born and walking out proudly to meet his new bride.
“Hi honey, I’m ho—”
The words died on his lips.
Lydia was sat on the edge of the hot tub with her feet angled outwards and propped up on each side of the tub, her legs spread, her hands inching towards her…
With a parting of her mouth and an exhale, she whispered hoarsely over the sound of the bubbling water, “Come, earn your keep, husband.”
Wick was more than willing to oblige.
“Doolittle doo-late,” Pemberley Gardiner exclaimed on seeing her best friend, Eliza Bennet, step out of the elevator and into the large vestibule that led to her penthouse. She used the nickname she’d given Eliza the first day they’d met at Dennybridge—a reference to Eliza Doolittle—that Pemberley knew she hated. Like any good friendship that thrived on mutual bantering, Pemberley made good use of the hated nickname at every opportunity.
Eliza’s eyes shot up to hers before her weary looking friend rushed eagerly into her arms.
“Were you that excited to see me that you had to wait outside your door?”
“Ah, Doo-Doo. I’m always eager to see your happy little face,” Pemberley teased, squeezing the breath from Eliza’s lungs with her crushing embrace. “You’re always so full of joy, and hope and fairy dust and unicorns and…”
“Stop taking the piss, Pembs,” Eliza muttered. Her sour tone the opposite of the warmth in which she held her dearest friend.
“I’m insulted you think I would ever do such a thing to my little Doo-Doo. Now introduce me to your friends, especially the one that looks like a taller, broader, more handsome version of Jon Snow.”
Eliza pulled back and looked over her shoulder at her three companions wondering which Austen brother Pembs had set her sights on. Her eyes found the sultry brown of Darcy’s, and she made a quick sweep of his dark brows and untamed—almost black in this light—wavy hair, and she knew he was who had peaked Pemberley’s interest. A sharp pain twisted through her stomach at the thought, but she dismissed it as fatigue and hunger—nothing to do with the sinfully handsome, Darcy Austen getting it on with her best friend.
“Pemberley,” she bit out through her teeth in a harsh whisper. “Get your eyes off the eldest Austen. I don’t get the pop culture reference you’re making, but I know it’s him you’re eye-fucking right now.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Pemberley mocked, eventually tearing her eyes from her newly found prey and settling them back on Eliza. “Don’t you watch popular television? You really must stop watching the financial news because that fine specimen behind you can ‘kiss me down there’ anytime.”
Bing, overhearing parts of their exchange snorted, and Eliza swore she heard Darcy’s deep chuckle over the pounding of her heart.
If Pemberley went after Darcy, he would be unable to resist. Pembs always got what she wanted, and Eliza wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
The rational side of her brain said that her friend and the insufferable Austen brother could do as they pleased, but her chest tightened at the thought.
“Ahh,” Pemberley whispered knowingly in her ear before pulling back and wrapping her arm around Eliza’s shoulders. “You don’t like that idea, do you? Tell me, Doo-Doo, do you have your eyes on that delicious slice of man-meat?”
“What? No,” Eliza refuted a little too quickly and going by Pemberley’s knowing smirk not very convincingly. Pemberley would undoubtedly revisit this revelation, but for now, she was eager to find out all about the drama that landed her best friend on her doorstep with a crew in tow.
Deciding to drop the subject for the time being, Pemberley escorted Eliza and her band of tag-alongs into her home. She went through a rushed description of who could take which bedroom, seemingly oblivious to the quiet awe of both Austen brothers as they encountered the lavishness and luxury of her home. Pembs didn’t enjoy ramming her success and fame down people’s throats and got uncomfortable around star-struck flunkies, so she was pleasantly surprised that the brothers tempered their reactions to both her and her home. This wasn’t a big-headed response by Pemberley. She was aware of her level of fame and the likelihood that there wasn’t a man, woman or child in the western world who didn’t recognise her face. It was a side-effect of her life that made her isolated. She had learnt—through her farce of a marriage and the crushing of her young heart—not to trust easily. Eliza Bennet was the one person in the world Pemberley believed in completely and unguardedly, which was ironic seeing as the press had once painted the eldest Bennet sister as the thorn in her marriage’s side.
“Would you like to eat before you get some rest, you all look like you’re about to collapse at any moment?” Pemberley asked, playing the part of the perfect host.
“Is that your way of saying we look like death warmed up?” Eliza sassed, a tired smile pulling at her lips.
“No, my little Doo-Doo,” Pembs replied affectionately. “If I wanted to tell you that you looked like shit, you know I wouldn’t hesitate.”
She turned her attention back to Darcy and all but purred, “Now if you wanted to let me borrow your newest plaything for a few hours while you rest, I wouldn’t turn you down. He doesn’t look half as tired as the rest of you, and I do love a virile man.”
Eliza choked and spluttered at her friend’s blatant invitation to the oldest Austen, and her eyes passed from Pemberley’s impish face to Darcy’s blush stained one. He’d heard every word.
“Oh, calm your tits.” Pemberley chuckled at Eliza’s reaction, and with a roll of her eyes added, “You’re too much fun to play with when you’re tired.”
Not waiting for Eliza’s rebuttal, Pemberley lifted a manicured hand and pressed the intercom situated on the wall at her side. Her housekeeper answered immediately and Pemberley requested that a late lunch be served on the terrace. During the entire conversation with her staff member her face remained bright with glee as her gaze moved between the four people stood before her.
“Come, let’s eat.”
Pemberley walked towards the wall to ceiling glass doors that led out to her rooftop terrace, the billowing black fabric of her maxi dress swishing around her ankles. She stood to the side of the open doorway with her hand outstretched in invitation. Eliza walked up to her friend and leant into a brief embrace before placing a soft, thankful kiss on her cheek and stepping out into the sunlight. One by one everyone walked by her. Jane gave Pemberley’s arm a squeeze in gratitude before joining her sister outside. Bing followed, nodding his head and offering his quiet appreciation, and Darcy came up last. He made to say something as he approached, but Pemberley stilled him by placing her hand on his arm.
“I know you’re not with Lize,” she whispered into his ear, emphasising the meaning of the word with by using her free hand to brush across his chest as if removing a bothersome crease in his suit. “But I see you looking at her, so let me offer a friendly—” the hand that gripped his arm squeezed into his flesh to add weight to her caution “—warning. Don’t. Fuck. With. My. Girl.”
Darcy stilled her hand that caressed his chest and turned so his lips were close to her ear. To anyone else, it looked as if they were flirting, when in fact they were both issuing decrees.
“Your girl is more trouble than she’s worth, so put away your claws.”
Darcy pulled away from Pemberley with a seductive smile and placed a tender kiss on her cheek. He stepped away from the Oscar-winner with a shit-eating grin on his face and walked straight onto the terrace to be met with Eliza’s icy stare. Her face told everyone that she’d witnessed Darcy’s exchange with her friend and had fallen into the trap Pemberley had orchestrated.
Bing coughed awkwardly, and Jane busied herself by pouring drinks, while Eliza turned her glare from Darcy to Pembs. Eliza’s best friend appeared nonplussed by the frosty atmosphere and glided out into the sunshine looking every penny of the millions of dollars in her bank account.
“
He’s got teeth,” Pemberley announced to her friend, letting everyone else also hear her words. “I do enjoy a man who bites.”
Eliza’s face shut down. A wall of ice blanketed her, and her eyes appeared to harden into steely flints.
“Please ensure to draw first blood,” Eliza said tartly. “I’d hate to see yet another man requiring a toothpick to remove parts of you from between his incisors.”
Pemberley’s head snapped Eliza’s way, the unexpected barb hitting her weak underbelly. What seemed to be petty bantering between friends was in danger of escalating.
Jane, ever the peacemaker was the first to break the silence.
“Thanks for letting us stay, Pembs. I’m not sure what Lize has told you about our trip—”
“Nothing,” Pembs interjected. “Your sister has told me nothing only that it has to do with that shameless brat Lydia.”
Pemberley poured herself a large glass of wine and sat in the chair next to Eliza, their eyes never meeting. Instead of pouring her friend a glass, she passed her the bottle.
Jane watched the entire exchange in silence and only began to stutter when Eliza bypassed her glass, brought the half-filled bottle directly to her lips and took a large swig. Pemberley seemed to relax at the motion, and her hard façade began to crumble.
“Yes, uh… it’s Lydia. I’m not sure why she’s, uh… doing what she’s done or doing… but…”
“Would you like the Cliffs Notes version?” Eliza interjected brusquely, interrupting her sister and taking another long pull of the wine. “The tasty slice of man meat’s brother,” Eliza drawled, mocking Pemberley’s accent and tipping the neck of the bottle towards Darcy while using her friend’s description of him against her. “Manipulated Lydia into eloping here with him. They’re likely already married. Oh, and he’s poorer than dirt.”
Eliza took another exaggerated swig from the bottle and Jane’s brow furrowed with worry. This was not Eliza, nor was this how Eliza dealt with problems.
Eliza cackled before wiping some spilt wine from her mouth using the back of her hand.
“In fact,” she continued, with wickedness dancing in her eyes. “I’d say the Austen boys, including the one about to make our beloved sister his wife, are so poor that if their dear old daddy hadn’t cut holes in their trousers pockets at Christmas they wouldn’t have had anything to play with.”
Jane gasped, and Pemberley crowed with laughter at Eliza’s inappropriate joke at the Austen brother’s expense, but neither Darcy nor Bing seemed upset by her words.
Bing hid his smile by taking a sip of orange juice and surreptitiously placed his hand on Jane’s knee to let her know he was there for her and not insulted by Eliza’s outburst. While Darcy took one look at a flinty eyed Eliza, and a laugh boomed from his lips.
“The ice princess has been hiding her talents beneath her frosty outer-layer,” he declared before taking a long sip of his drink. “Why, Miss Eliza, if you ever lose your place at The Bennet Group you’ll always get work as a stand-up comedienne. I’d pay good money to see what other material you have.”
“You couldn’t afford it,” Eliza sniped before hiccupping on her next mouthful of alcohol.
“And that is enough for you,” Pemberley decided, standing and sweeping the now almost empty bottle out of Eliza’s hand.
“What? Who made you my mother?” Eliza exclaimed, her body lurching to the side when she shot from her seat to reclaim her drink.
“I did,” Pemberley answered soberly. “Firstly, you’re a lightweight on a good day. Secondly, you’re jetlagged, stressed out, and haven’t slept. I’m taking you to bed, and when you wake up, you can fill me in on our darling Lydia.”
Eliza made to disagree, and Pemberley silenced her with a loud, “Shh.”
Eliza snapped her mouth shut like a petulant child, highlighting the effects of the alcohol she’d consumed, and Pemberley praised her with a condescending, “There’s a good girl, my little Doo-Doo.”
“I’ll happily take her to bed for you, darling,” a deep, cultured male voice called across the terrace, and both Eliza and Pemberley stopped dead. Pemberley’s head swivelled almost horror film-like towards the newcomer, and Eliza waited for her to begin vomiting green slime. Instead, her bile thickened words warned the man standing casually in the open doorway like he owned the place, that he was an unwelcome visitor.
“You wouldn’t know the first thing about how to pleasure a woman in bed, husband. So please don’t try to fool our guests with your bullshit.”
The bastard smirked.
“Oh, dearest. That’s not what the press thinks, is it?” Collins winked at Eliza before taking in the rest of the room and stating smugly, “Eliza and I go way back. Don’t we, my little sexpot?”
“Fuck you, Collins,” Eliza spat through gritted teeth. “No one here believes the bollocks that falls from your mouth.”
Collins’ eyes swept over the faces at the table, he knew all but two—the dark-haired men—and enjoyed the response his unexpected visit had caused.
Jane glared at him, which was an unpredictable response from the middle Bennet sister because to him she was nothing but a mouse. The geeky guy to her side placed his hand across her shoulders proprietarily causing Collins to laugh, but the other guy—the one with deliciously dark good looks and fuckable hair that made Collins’ manhood perk up in appreciation—only looked at him in interest. Collins’ libido and attention seeking soul honed in on the handsome stranger, finding himself a new mark.
“Collins Forster,” he introduced himself with an over-confident swagger that told of a man used to people fawning all over him, and took the man’s hand in his strong grip for a beat longer than appropriate. “And you are?”
“Darcy Austen,” the stranger offered him, a spark of inquisitiveness lighting his melted chocolate coloured eyes.
“Get out,” Pemberley hissed, dropping Eliza’s arm and storming towards her husband. “You knew I was staying here this week and the agreement states you’re banned from wherever I’m residing. So, take your fuck-me eyes and leave.”
Collins leisurely ended his stare off with Darcy, and his gaze turned cold as his eyes landed on his wife.
“I’m not leaving. I’ve only just got here, dear.”
“I’ll call Brant,” Pemberley threatened menacingly. “You’re one strike away from handing me everything I want. Don’t mess with me Collins because I’ve been waiting years for the chance to get rid of you on my terms and not yours.”
Collins’ lips twisted in a smug grin.
“Maybe if you wait a little longer, my beloved—” he crooned, reaching out to tuck a lock of his wife’s hair behind her ear, a move she shook off as if he’d burned her “—A fuck will fall in my hand, and I can give it to you.”
The slap of her palm across his face echoed out over the silent terrace. Nobody gasped at her violent reaction. In fact, it felt as though most welcomed it.
Collins rubbed a hand against his stinging cheek, his lips pursing as fire danced in his eyes.
“Mr Austen, would you like a tour of Vegas?”
Collins’ eyes left his wife to look over at the man who’d gained his interest. He watched as Darcy looked briefly at Eliza with something unidentifiable passing over his features before his focus turned to him and his invitation.
“Why, thank you, Mr Forster. I think I’d enjoy that. It’s been a long day, and I’d enjoy the change of scenery.”
Darcy stood, removed his jacket from the back of the chair and shook it out before slipping it over his broad shoulders, not bothering to button it up.
Bing stared at Darcy, his eyes begging him to look his way, words of caution wanting to slip from his tongue, but his brother ignored him despite feeling his gaze.
“I’ll bring him back safely and in one piece, my dear,” Collins informed his wife with a barely concealed leer. “Why don’t you take your little Doo-Doo to bed like you were going to before I rudely interrupted, and accept my sincerest
apologies for getting mixed up on my timings today. Had I known you were in town, I would’ve stayed in New York.”
Collins took a last smug look at a mute and rigid Eliza before cocking his head towards the exit and saying to Darcy, “Shall we go and see the sights. There is much to show you and tell you about Vegas, Mr Austen.”
Both men then left with Darcy informing everyone he’d find his way back in a few hours and for them to all get some rest.
Once only four of them remained, and Eliza and Pemberley still hadn’t moved from their spots, Bing piped up, “Well, no offence, Miss Gardiner, but that man is a complete arse.”
Pemberley sighed, before walking over to Eliza and wrapping her arm around her friend’s shoulders.
“You have no idea, young Bing. Most arses are filled with less shit than my dear husband. I just hope your brother can rid himself of the stench once my husband is finished with him.”
“Don’t worry about Darcy,” Bing offered with no little amount of pride. “He never suffers fools gladly.”
“No,” Eliza said tiredly. “Because he is one.”
Then she allowed her best friend to take her to bed.
Collins could play all the games he wanted. Eliza couldn’t care less if Darcy thought badly of her. It would just prove everything Eliza thought of him.
Chapter Fifteen
Darcy knew the man sat on the opposite side of the car was making sexual advances towards him even though subtle, and despite being married to a woman considered to be one of the most beautiful in the world.
Darcy knew this because Collins Forster looked at him with more than an avid interest, and because Darcy had manipulated things somewhat to catch him out.
When he caught the man checking out his arse as he climbed into the Bentley, he dismissed it. When he felt Collins staring at him as he looked out at the bright Vegas scenery, he initially rejected the notion as absurd, but some part of Darcy had decided to test out the theory for his peace of mind. Darcy Austen didn’t like to be blindsided by anyone.