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

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Pride and Papercuts: Inspired by Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice Page 3

by Staci Hart


  Jett was a giver, and he’d never been with anyone worthy of his affection. But I had an undeniable suspicion that Georgie would see the man in front of her for all he was, even if she didn’t fully realize what she had just yet.

  I frowned, wondering if Liam Darcy would get in the way of that.

  Subsequently, I wondered exactly how I’d ruin his life if he did.

  Georgie slid into the booth next to me, and Cam turned to Jett.

  “Come sit with us. Have a cup of coffee.”

  But he smiled. “Nah, I’ll leave you to your work. That inventory isn’t going to count itself. But I’ll check back in before you’re finished.” He and Georgie shared a look that indicated exactly who he was speaking to.

  Partings were exchanged before he left us, and she watched him walk away.

  I thought Cam and I might actually climb out of our skin at the sight of them.

  “So,” Cam started, opening a folder, “last night was a huge hit. It was on the higher end of our mixer profits. I’m so glad you were there, Georgie.”

  “I’ve been dying to come to one since I first heard about them,” she said. “This launch is going to be a piece of cake. Wasted Words sells itself, but throw in the mixers, and you’ve got yourself a ringer.”

  “Your brother didn’t seem to share the sentiment.” I meant to sound light. I really did. But I felt like a jerk when I saw the look on Georgie’s face that said I’d failed.

  “I’m sorry. Not only for his lack of enthusiasm, but for what you overheard.”

  Now they were both watching me.

  I smiled. “Really, it was nothing,” I assured her. “But I’m not convinced he’s interested in working with us.”

  “Trust me when I say that although it may appear that’s the case, it’s not. Liam has never been one to show enthusiasm for anything, even though he feels quite deeply.”

  “Oh, so he’s not made out of marble and disdain?” I joked.

  And thankfully, she laughed. “Oh, he is. But there’s a gooey center deep down that, if given entry to, is the safest place in the entire world. Don’t worry, I won’t make you go looking for it. Just know there’s a reason I’m the liaison and he works with the team. He’s brilliant, so long as he doesn’t have to be social or meet new people.”

  “I’m surprised he came last night,” Cam said lightly.

  “Only because I made him,” Georgie admitted. “I thought if he saw Wasted Words in action, maybe he’d get it. Somewhere in the labyrinth of his brain, I know he did. Thank you, Laney, for handling him with so much grace.”

  A laugh shot out of me. “Grace? I insulted him.”

  “Because he insulted you. You could have done much worse. He deserved to be put in his place, and I hope you’ll keep doing it—I could use the backup. It’s been a long, lonely battle.” She offered me a conspiratorial smile.

  “I get permission to tell Liam Darcy off when he’s out of line?” I asked. “Well, that certainly changes my perspective on working with him.”

  Cam eyed me. “Within reason,” she warned.

  I held up my hands in surrender. “I’ll be the picture of grace, by Georgie’s definition.”

  Cam shook her head and changed the subject. “So what happens from here, Georgie?”

  “Well”—she flipped open her portfolio—“the new locations will be ready for launch in six months. Our team has been working on preliminary plans and proposals, customized for each location by region. Since Laney will continue her social marketing here in the store, we were thinking we would have her two days a week at the firm in addition to relevant meetings. Would that work for you two?”

  I didn’t frown or wrinkle my nose at the suggestion, which was a big deal. It’d been my idea to work with the team—how else could I make sure they didn’t botch the whole thing?—but I had all the doubts now.

  Two days a week in a pencil skirt downtown was bad enough, but with Darcy as my director? I could think of myriad ways to better spend my time. Like being waterboarded or rolling around in broken glass.

  The things I would do for this store knew no bounds.

  “It works for us,” Cam said, speaking for me.

  I wore a thin smile of submission.

  “Great. So, just to explain a little about our roles, I’m your liaison, your primary contact for the project. Anything you need, any questions you have, I’m here for you. I’ll manage pitch meetings and briefs, and I’ll come here regularly to update you between meetings, check in, make sure you don’t need anything. The owners told me you’d be the liaison here, is that right?” she asked Cam.

  “That’s right. Cooper has his own full-time career, and Rose is out on maternity leave, so I’m your girl.”

  “With as much money as your store makes, I’m surprised he’s working anywhere else,” Georgie said. “Honestly, I’m surprised he works at all. I still remember when he was one of New York’s most eligible bachelors.”

  Cam laughed. “Billionaire playboy, all settled down and married with kids. He’s mostly just an investor here. Rose normally runs the day-to-day, when she’s not on maternity leave. Which feels like every fourteen months lately,” she joked.

  “Well, I for one am excited about what we’re going to accomplish together,” Georgie said with genuine enthusiasm. “We have a big creative meeting day after tomorrow, and the team is dying to meet you, Laney. Can we count on you to be there?”

  “Tell me you’ll be there too,” I practically begged.

  She chuckled. “I can be.”

  “Then I’ll be there.”

  Darcy or no Darcy.

  4

  Hereditary Insufferability

  LANEY

  Jett and I climbed the subway steps that evening in Greenwich Village, laughing over photos from the Fabio party on social media, which had gone mildly viral.

  The day had gone by swiftly. Georgie stayed until after we opened, sipping coffee at the bar in a spot that was both visible and accessible to Jett. As he went about his duties, he’d made it a point to stop and talk to her, his attempt to appear casual thin.

  “You are so into her,” I teased as we headed toward Mom’s. “Super-duper into her.”

  “I’m super-duper into lots of things, Elaine.”

  “Like romance novels, Julius?”

  “So I like a happy ending. Sue me.”

  I laughed. “You’re an anomaly.”

  “Any guy who makes fun of romance has never read a good one. That’s all I’m saying. Oh, that reminds me …” He reached into his bag and pulled a novel out, extending it to me. “New rom-com just came in about a group of friends who swear off men. I thought you’d like it.”

  “Am I really that transparent?” I joked, inspecting the cover.

  Jett shrugged. “I liked it. It made me think of you. Because of course their little pact doesn’t stick. I like the thought of being proven wrong, you know? The idea that you think you know what you want when, in reality, you have no idea.”

  “You’re a hopeless romantic. I mean, you look like you walked off the pages of one. And with a name like Jett?”

  “It was either that or Jules. No way was I going by Julius. Not my fault I got the worst of our nicknames.”

  “Mom and her Roman names.”

  “We all hate you for getting a normal name, you know.”

  “Except for Marcus.”

  “Yeah, well, we hate him for it too.”

  “Kassius would have gotten Kash stuffed in just as many lockers as Julius would have.”

  “None of us ended up conventional, did we?” he mused. “Well, except Marcus.”

  “And note he’s the only one without a nickname.” I turned the conversation back to him. “Anyway, stop deflecting. Did you ask Georgie out?”

  “Anybody ever tell you you’re nosy?”

  “Daily. It’s hereditary. When was the last time you did anything without Mom knowing about it?”

  “Never once. How much y
ou wanna bet Luke’s already told her about Georgie?”

  “I don’t take bets I know I’ll lose. I don’t think Luke’s kept a secret since he was in diapers.”

  He sighed. “I’m into her, it’s true. But she mentioned something in passing that I’m pretty sure wasn’t in passing at all. Did you know they’re not allowed to see their clients? Or in this case, employees of clients?”

  My frown was magnificent. “What? Why?”

  “I don’t know. I think normally it’s an unspoken professional rule, but their firm has policies against it.”

  I snorted a laugh. “Isn’t Georgie the boss’s niece and heir to the company? She’d couldn’t actually get fired, could she?”

  Jett cast me a look. “So she should defy the rules and put her aunt in that kind of position with the rest of their employees, or worse—get fired? Come on, Lane. As romantic as that is, it’s not real life. And anyway, I’m sure their family would think it was tacky. And they’re the kind of people who avoid tacky at all costs.”

  “Wouldn’t have been able to tell by Darcy’s standards. Rich as he is, he has terrible manners. I’d go so far as to declare him The Worst.”

  “Look at the bright side—now you don’t have to worry about him trying to date you.”

  I didn’t laugh. I cackled. “Darcy. And me.” Another rip of laughter. “He wouldn’t even agree to dance with me, I’m so beneath him. We’re not like them. As if where we came from matters.”

  But Jett didn’t laugh. His lips were a sober line. “It does to them. Do you have any idea where they came from?”

  “Upper East stock. Poor little rich kids. Elite prep schools and Ivy League colleges. They’re privileged. We all know the type.”

  Jett shook his head. “Their aunt runs one of the top ad agencies in New York. When their parents died, I’m pretty sure they inherited more money than our upper-middle-class brains can comprehend. With their legacy? They’re New York royalty. It’s no wonder Liam Darcy didn’t put on a Fabio wig and take his shirt off. I just don’t get why you’re so pissed at him for being stuck-up. I don’t even know him, and it feels on-brand.”

  “Seriously? Am I wrong to think people should treat each other with common decency and respect? Georgie is nothing like him, and she’s got to be just as wealthy as him.”

  “Darcy was in college when their parents died. Georgie was in high school. I figure he had to grow up pretty quick, and I also figure Georgie escaped that burden.”

  “That’s a lot to assume.”

  But he shrugged. “It’s what I would have done for you, if the tables were turned. I’m not saying he’s not an insufferable dick, but give the guy a break, Laney. Just try.”

  He managed to make me feel more than a little ashamed, though my irritation with said insufferable dick still held more power.

  “I’ll try if he’ll try. Georgie practically asked me to give him a hard time. And can anyone say no to her?”

  “I cannot imagine they do.”

  We walked in silence for a moment.

  “I’m sorry you can’t ask her out.”

  “Me too. But maybe it’s for the best.”

  I made a face. “Ew, Jett. Ew. It is not for the best that the first decent—no, spectacular—girl you’ve come across can’t date you. Frankly, that’s bullshit, and I’m offended you’re so calm about it.”

  “Why get upset when you’re mad enough for the both of us?”

  With a huff, I punched him in the arm. He didn’t even flinch—just laughed as we trotted up the stairs of the Bennet family stoop.

  The brownstone had been in the family since it’d been built in the 1800s, one in a strip of homes on Bleecker, owned by the first set of Bennets to set foot on American soil. We’d sold all but the one we still occupied and the house next door, which housed our flower shop, Longbourne. In the courtyard out back stood our greenhouse, with another on the roof that my brother Kash used to breed rare flowers. Of course, we weren’t big enough to grow to our demand, but with supplements from farms in Long Island, we could get just about anything we needed within a few hours’ notice. We’d grown up in that greenhouse, running around barefoot with dirt under our nails. And when Jett opened the front door to the house, that familiar feeling of home slipped over us and drew us inside.

  The Bennet house was chaos, as it ever was. In part, it was that so many of us were typically here at one time, and none of us other than Marcus were tidy people. We were too like our mother—strong-willed and with far more important things on our minds than putting away our shoes. Although unlike our mother, we usually remembered where we’d left them.

  Laughter and conversation drifted into the grand foyer from the kitchen, and it sounded like everyone was there. It had been a long year since we’d all come home, the fate of Longbourne and our legacy up in the air after a string of detrimental business decisions, courtesy of Mom. But somehow, we’d managed to save it all, thanks to my brothers. All I did was work on our social and try to get the word out. They were the ones who put in all the elbow grease. But I didn’t think anyone was surprised.

  It had always been this way.

  As the only female Bennet child, I was the expected heir of Longbourne. When I was a little girl, Mom would cart me around the greenhouse, teaching me everything she knew. But I didn’t want to grow flowers—I wanted to draw them. She never understood. For generations, the legacy had been passed down the female line, but that stopped with me. And she didn’t let me forget it.

  The pressure was off now that my brothers—other than Jett—had found their matches, and those potential female Bennets gave her hope for everything, including the grandchildren she was so desperate for. Marcus’s wife, Maisie, had slid right into my empty spot at the company, shouldering the day-to-day corporate management of Longbourne with Marcus. Mom’s partnership with Maisie was everything Mom had ever wanted from me, but from a willing participant.

  Every once in a while, I caught wind of the sentiment that I’d rejected what she wanted strictly because she wanted it of me, which was silly. Granted, I did not like being told what to do, and I had no small problem with authority. But even as a little girl, it wasn’t what I’d wanted. And closer to the heart—I was never given a choice.

  Either way, we all seemed content. Mom had gotten her Bennet heir and the potential for three sets of grandchildren. And Jett and I escaped to the Upper West, where she couldn’t keep trying to matchmake us with every able-bodied human of our preferred gender.

  Didn’t stop her from giving us shit about it anyway.

  The kitchen was packed with people waiting for dinner, which Maisie had put in the oven, judging by the apron she wore over her burgeoning belly and her position with Marcus next to the stove. She’d taken on Jett’s role around the house, since she and Marcus lived a few houses down. Honestly, I didn’t think Jett would have left if not for Maisie’s insistence that she’d take care of Mom and my insistence that we had to get out of this house and put enough blocks between us that she’d quit making me go on dates with zeroes.

  I did miss Dad, though.

  He sat at the head of the table behind a newspaper, pretending not to listen to everyone talking. His snowy-white hair was visible over the top of the news, which lowered just enough to catch the spark of his blue eyes when they met mine.

  We were greeted with heys and hugs and made our way around the kitchen, starting with Marcus and Maisie. Then Luke and Tess at the table with Kash and Lila. I kissed Mom’s cheek, and she cupped my jaw, inspecting me proudly when I backed up.

  “Oh, Elaine. Sometimes I forget how beautiful you are. Memories pale next to the real thing.”

  I smiled down at her. “Are you hinting that I should come home more often?”

  She shrugged, but mischief was in her smiling eyes. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt. How’s work?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but Jett cut me off.

  “Laney met a guy.”

  Our faces swivel
ed in his direction. I should have kicked him in the shin the second I saw his smug smile.

  “Really?” Mom nearly gasped. “Come sit down, Julius, and tell me about him.”

  “Well,” he started as he sat, “he’s got more money than the Rockefellers—”

  “Jett met a girl too,” I interrupted, taking the seat on the other side of her.

  She turned back to me with her face as bright as Christmas morning. “Both of you? I must be dreaming.”

  “Luke didn’t tell you?” I asked, glancing at him. He shrugged. “Should have taken that bet with Jett after all. She’s so pretty, Mom,” I baited, all moony. “Your grandbabies are going to be straight out of a Gerber commercial.”

  Jett scowled. “He’s an ad executive. Liam Darcy. Have you heard of him?”

  Mom’s jaw unhinged, and she swiveled once again back to my stupid brother. “Liam Darcy? He’s worth eighteen million a year in interest alone.”

  I steamed like a teakettle.

  “I’m not even going to ask how you know that, Mother,” Jett said. “But yes, that Liam Darcy.”

  “However in the world—”

  I interrupted again. “Jett met his sister, Georgiana. They danced all night last night. Don’t let him fool you—Darcy wouldn’t even speak to me. But Georgie, on the other hand … well, when she came to Wasted Words for an ad meeting this morning, I could have sworn she swooned when she saw him.”

  That was all it took. Mom officially forgot I existed as she took one deep breath and began machine-gunning questions at him.

  If someone could blow someone else up with their minds, Jett would have done it right then. I gave him a mocking smile and turned to Dad.

  He’d folded his paper and set it on the table, watching us spar with quiet amusement.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hello, daughter.” He flicked his chin at Mom with a smile on his face. “It’s cruel, the way you two tease her.”

  “Well, she’s already settled three out of five of her children. I really did think she’d let up, not realizing she’d just have that much more energy to expend on us.”

 

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