Page 10 of Stuck

“She’s well, thank you,” she replied, the mention of her girlfriend drawing a rare smile from her lips. More pointedly, she asked, “How’s Bingley?”

I groaned and looked at Jane, who was trying to shove her massive fluffy dressing gown into the already overflowing suitcase. “I take it he’s told you about his plan to carry on pretending we’re together.”

Jane nodded, smiling. “I know it’s daft, but it’s only for a few days.” She said this in her best “oldest sister” voice, somehow managing to make it sound eminently reasonable. “And you do owe me after that curry.”

“I’m fairly sure I repaid that debt last night. Besides, haven’t you got to work?”

“I told them I’m still sick.”

I opened my mouth in genuine shock. “You lied to your manager? And you’re fine with your boyfriend lying to his oldest friend? I’m sorry, who are you, and what have you done with my sister?”

Mary let out a low hum of disapproval. “Who knew posh boys could be such bad influences?”

“Um, everyone?” I replied with a smirk.

“He’s not a bad influence,” Jane objected, still struggling with the dressing gown. “He’s taking me away for a few days, that’s all.”

I rolled my head along with my eyes to make sure she saw it. “I can’t believe you two get a dirty weekend out of this, and I’m the one stuck here covering for you both. You know you can’t go to any business dinners with him, don’t you? Not unless you want all his precious investors to think he’s cheating on me.”

“I know, but he only has one booked, on Thursday. We’ll have every other evening and the whole weekend to ourselves.”

“Oh crap! Thursday!” I groaned at the sudden recollection. “I’m supposed to have a date that night.”

“Ooh, yes, with Billy from your swimming group, yes?”

“Yeah. I’ve already rearranged twice.”

“No reason you can’t still go. No one at work needs to know.”

“I already told Fi in accounts. But I’m sure it’ll be fine—she’s probably forgotten.”

“Chances are she has, since you barely remembered it yourself,” Mary said. “I take it Billy isn’t particularly noteworthy?”

“He’s nice,” I told her with a shrug. “And he’s been asking me to go for dinner with him for ages.”

“Please go. It’ll make me feel less guilty about you covering for me and Bingley.” With a huff and a shake of her head, Jane tugged the dressing gown out of the suitcase and disappeared with it into her bedroom. I stood up to take the shopping into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine, bringing the bottle back with me to top up Mary’s glass before returning to the sofa.

“Maybe Darcy’s right. Bingley isn’t going to be concentrating on work if he’s boning Jane the whole time he’s in Scotland.”

Mary wrinkled her nose. “Don’t say boning.”

“And don’t accuse me of distracting him,” Jane added, emerging from the bedroom with a bra and knicker set that had distraction written all over it and shoving it into her case. “The company is everything to Bingley. He set it up in his dad’s memory. He’d never do anything to jeopardise it. Pluuus,” she added, stringing the word out in a singsong voice, “if Darcy thinks his girlfriend is here, pining for him, he’ll never suspect that she’s there, distracting him.”

“Genius,” Mary said, her flat tone making it abundantly clear that she meant precisely the opposite. “What’s he like, anyway, this man Bingley is so desperate to impress?”

“He seems like a bit of a knob,” I replied, taking a healthy glug of wine. “But Bingley likes him, so he must have some redeeming features.”

He definitely had redeeming features, but his personality wasn’t one of them, so I considered them unworthy of mention.

“Thankfully, I don’t think I’ll have to see much of him. My desk is on the opposite side of the building to his office, and it’s unlikely we’ll be in any of the same meetings. I ought to be able to stay out of his way.”

It turned out, I could not have been more wrong. Darcy might not have been in any of the same meetings as me, but somehow, he managed to be absolutely everywhere else.

6

DARCY

She was everywhere. On the pavement outside, in the queue at Quick Bite, taking the lift, at the reception desk. It seemed as though I caught sight of her every time I turned my head. It would have been better if Bingley hadn’t asked me to stay out of her way; then I wouldn’t have been so painfully conscious of her every move—though that could just as easily be explained by my increasing wariness of her.