Page 49 of Stuck

I stared at him, wondering how he’d made it as far in business as he had. “Uh-huh.”

I hadn’t meant that he should do it that second, and yet he took off, phone already in hand, leaving me to be buffeted about by the dozens of people now crowding the balcony. I set out to follow him but stopped and almost jumped out of my skin at the deafening boom of a firework detonating directly overhead. Pressing a hand to my chest, I laughed at myself for squealing, finally understanding the sudden influx of onlookers onto the balcony.

Again, I tried to leave, but with a whole display now going off, more people were pushing outside to get a better view. It couldn’t be safe. I started to feel anxious when I found myself being pressed further towards the railings.

“Excuse me, please,” I shouted to the people barring my way back inside, but even though they tried to move, I didn’t have the clout to make myself heard or noticed by the people behind them. Instead of moving towards the house, I was forced away from it until I felt something hard pressing into my lower back, and nothing but air behind my shoulders.

I sucked in breath and whipped around, grabbing for the railings, but that was a mistake. It left me leaning over the edge of the balcony, with fireworks exploding all around and my pulse rushing in my ears. My legs started shaking, and my breath stalled in my chest as I stared down at the patio goodness knew how many feet below. Was that enough of a fall to be fatal, or would it just really, really, really hurt? I’d break both legs at least, surely? Someone jostled into me from behind, shoving me harder against the railings, and I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut and white-knuckling the railings.

I didn’t know how long I stayed like that, clinging on for dear life and shaking like a leaf, before a wall of heat enveloped me from behind. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a solid chest as gentle hands pried my fingers from the railings.

“It’s okay,” Darcy said in my ear. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”

Crikey. If my legs weren’t jelly before, they were now. I let him pull me away from the edge, the crowds parting for his imposing figure in the way they’d failed to do for me. He didn’t unravel his arm from around me until we were inside the house. Then he turned me to face him and held me by the arms as he peered at my face with concern.

“Better?”

I nodded. “Thank you.” I was lucky I had the excuse of a panic attack to explain my breathlessness—but two rescues in one night? He was going for gold here. “This is getting embarrassing. I don’t usually need saving this often. It’s just that I’m⁠—”

“Afraid of heights. I know.”

I blinked. “You remembered.”

He replied “Yes” as though I’d told him the time. As though it was obvious.

I hadn’t thought of anything to say in response before Bingley interrupted us, reappearing with two new flutes of champagne.

“Here we are—top ups. Oh! Darcy. I didn’t get you one. Here, have mine.”

Neither of us took a glass.

“Not for me, thanks,” I said. “In fact, would you mind getting your driver to take me home? I think I’m about done for the night.” I saw the moment he realised this could be his chance to see Jane, and I added quickly, “You stay. I know there are more people you need to speak to. You can call tomorrow, okay?”

He knew exactly who I meant he could call. Looking a little deflated, he acquiesced. I said goodbye to Darcy, whose eyes I felt on me the entire way to the top of the stairs, and let Bingley escort me to the car. I waved off his apologies for his behaviour and pulled the door shut. My head fell back against the headrest with a thump.

There was a lot to digest, and a headache was picking up momentum between my temples, but somehow all I could think about was the way Darcy’s hand had splayed over my stomach as he held me against him. It really was a shame I’d ever agreed to deceive him. Because if ever there was a man I would have been willing to risk making a fool of myself over, it would have been him.

22

DARCY

Apologies, something’s come up, and I need to meet with Henderson this morning. Depending on how it goes with him, I may be needed at the Shoreditch office this afternoon. I’ll be in later to pull together the last parts of the presentation for the Paris meeting. Debrief then?

Think nothing of it, I owe you after the last few weeks—but I can’t do this evening. Last-minute dinner plans with Mum, Caroline, and Louisa. I think we covered most of it last night, though, so other than the presentation, there’s nothing that won’t wait until after the weekend. Let’s meet as planned Monday evening.

Bingley would be back from his overnight in Paris by then, and we’d arranged to meet to prepare before heading to Copenhagen together on Tuesday. I decided it was no bad thing that I’d have the weekend to get my head straight before seeing him again.

Agreed. Why the last-minute family dinner? Everything okay?

Long story. I’ll explain when I see you. Have a good weekend.

I tossed my phone down next to me on the car seat, disgusted with myself for telling yet more lies. I didn’t have to see Henderson; he’d been Chief Operations Officer for the entire Pemberley Group for three years and was perfectly capable of running things in my absence. In fact, not seeing me was precisely what we’d meticulously planned for—he wasn’t expecting me to be back full time until Bingley’s buyout was complete, and he’d been keeping me updated with full reports twice a week in the meantime.

But he happened to be down from the Pemberley Headquarters for a meeting in London today, and that was all the excuse I needed to absent myself from the Hydro Crops offices.

I couldn’t be around Elizabeth today. I sure as hell couldn’t be around her and Bingley together. It was getting too distracting. Too painful, though I was loath to admit that. But despite my staunchest efforts to fight it, my attraction for her, far from waning, had grown into something much bigger. I was horrified with myself, racked with guilt, but there was no denying I had some very serious feelings for her.

She’d stolen my breath at last night’s gala, not least because of her dress, which was hands down the sexiest thing I’d ever seen a woman wear. She was the most beautiful woman at the party, and I couldn’t understand how Bingley had failed to notice her run-in with Fred King or her panic on the balcony, because I hadn’t been able to tear my eyes away from her.