Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Going to Juliet’s tonight was markedly different than the last time.
Tonight, Darcy hadn’t been able to get to her hotel fast enough. She’d shared a car with Emerson, Blythe, and Colton, who’d made the journey to join as Blythe’s date tonight.
And Darcy, genuinely, really liked her future brother-in-law. Actually, she loved the guy. She already considered him a part of her family; she’d shared a bathroom with him since she’d been a teenager.
His excitement had been one of her highlights tonight.
But damn, he wanted to chat a lot.
They’d all gathered in Darcy’s hotel suite. Normally, she liked that. She, Blythe, and Emerson almost always convened in her room. She was often the nexus, and she liked that. She was also always the one down to hang out as late as either her sister or best friend wanted to.
Tonight, the first thing she’d done was go into her bedroom and peel herself out of the dress, after having Emerson unzip her. Tonight, an award night, paparazzi were everywhere, and she needed to be as incognito as possible.
She’d changed into a sweatshirt and jeans, pulled her hair into a ponytail, wiped off her excess makeup. Then had returned to the living area to find that Colton had poured them all glasses of champagne.
“I know you didn’t win best song, but… who cares! That was so awesome. And so much better being here in person!” His golden retriever was showing.
Blythe kissed his cheek, plucking the glass from him. “Glad you had a good time, babe.”
He nodded exuberantly. He’d been out to L.A.
with them a handful of times this past year, but never for Big Events.
They hadn’t gone to many yet, to be fair, and Colton – bless his heart – hadn’t quit or drawn back on his hours working on his construction crew.
He’d offered to take time off to accompany Blythe to anything she wanted, but her sister had always shrugged.
She wanted to go home to Colton, far more than she wanted him here in L.A.
“And Juliet – she seemed really nice when she won. Do we still hate her? We don’t, right?” He double-checked, turning his attention to Darcy.
“We don’t hate her,” she agreed, feeling a smidge guilty for wanting desperately to rush everyone out of her room.
Colton had, really, been the most patient one with her during her feud with Juliet. Blythe had wanted her to ignore Juliet and “take back her power.” Emerson had wanted her to rise above. Colton, sweet Colton, had listened to her repetitive complaints with a furrowed brow and encouraging nods.
“Still don’t love to see her win, though,” Blythe cut in with a shrug.
“Right,” Colton agreed.
Darcy had – always, always – wanted to win. That sharp need to prove herself, to have the accolades to back her up… she didn’t think it would ever fade.
“If we had to lose, I’d want it to be losing to ‘Violet Magnolia’ though,” she stated, referencing Juliet’s winning song, before nonchalantly taking a sip of her own champagne.
Blythe turned to her, eyes narrowed. “What?”
She swallowed her drink, holding up her free hand in defense. “I told you, Juliet and I are fine, now. And I’d genuinely rather lose to a song I think is really good than some of the other contenders.”
Darcy had always been a voracious listener. Listening to everything from oldies right up to brand new releases. She was very familiar with all of the other artists listed in every category.
And, regardless of whether she and Juliet had ever had sex, she did respect Juliet’s talent. “Violet Magnolia” had been her favorite song from Whiskey and White Lace, which she’d listened to right when it had dropped for release.
“I agree. With Darcy, that is,” Emerson piped up, from where she sat on the couch, quietly drawing her index finger around the rim of her glass. “I mean, I’d love to talk to Riann Sims about his collaboration with her for the music.”
Blythe stopped and stared. “Damn. Well, if you say you actively would like to go and talk to someone about something, I’m going to fold right away.”
“You never fold right away when I disagree with you,” Darcy pointed out.
“Because you’d go toe-to-toe with most people over just about anything,” Blythe shot back with an incredulous snort. “Emerson only ever says what she means and means what she says.”
Darcy… well, she couldn’t argue with it. She came up behind Emerson on the couch, giving her a quick, warm squeeze on the shoulder. Emerson was wearing a high-necked, long-sleeved dress that spoke of a quiet elegance, and she still had it on from the award show.
Emerson reached up and gently patted at Darcy’s hand, as she took one more sip from her champagne before placing it on the table next to her. “Well… that’s it for me. I think I’m going to take some melatonin and call it a night.”
“Already?” Colton asked, crestfallen. “We could all go out and do something?”
“I think Emerson’s on the right track,” Blythe agreed, tossing back her champagne, before turning to look at her fiancé. “Let’s go back to our room.”
Her direct and suggestive tone made it very clear what they were going back to their room to do.
Colton lit up. “Yeah. Sounds great.”
When Colton turned to grab his suit jacket that he’d taken off, and Blythe moved to put both of their flutes back, Darcy mouthed to Emerson, thank you.
Her best friend smiled softly back at her, waving her off. Admittedly, she was sure Emerson did want to go back to her own room and try to sleep. But still.
“Goodnight!” Darcy was thrilled to see them off, ushering them to the door.
Blythe gave her a suspicious stare over her shoulder as they went. Probably because Darcy was usually the one wanting to hang out later into the night. Which was because she couldn’t fucking sleep, and she’d love to have the company.
Tonight, she was primed and ready to have mind-numbingly good sex, followed by a night of real sleep. At the very least, it would be a test: had that first night with Juliet been anomalous, or could they recreate it?
She was deeply hoping for, and expecting, the latter.
Much like the first night, Juliet was ready for her.
She opened the door as Darcy approached, allowing her in.
And, much like the first night, Darcy walked past her and into Juliet’s house.
Juliet’s… mansion? She wasn’t sure what the size requirement was that made a house a mansion, but Juliet’s certainly seemed like it qualified.
She’d been preoccupied the last time she’d been here, crossing the threshold into the lion’s den as a woman on a mission. This time, she slowed as she entered, taking stock of what was around her.
Yep, this was the spacious foyer that they’d fucked in, at first.
Farther into the airy open room was the large, cushy couch that they’d continued to have sex on.
The front of Juliet’s home was nearly all windows, other than where the fireplace was built in. So was the back, giving a view – as Darcy had seen in the morning last week – of a spacious backyard with a lot of greenery.
Even with the windows, though, Juliet’s house was built so far back on her property, nothing about it was visible from the gate.
The gate itself was at least six feet tall, providing a solid wood surrounding.
When the gate opened for her, she walked down an impeccably maintained brick path, surrounded by flowers and trees.
The floors were all hardwood and the throw blankets Juliet had on her couch and one of the chairs gave the living area a very warm look. Before she’d been here, she’d expected it to look like one of those brand new homes on HGTV, where everything was sparkling white and had no personality.
Far from it, though, in a very comforting way.
She could see, in the back of the room to the left, the start of where the kitchen was, but couldn’t see everything because of one of the walls sectioning off another area of the house.
“So…” She started, turning to face Juliet, who, unlike Darcy, hadn’t taken off her ensemble from the award show.
Her champagne-colored dress held against her breasts and her hips.
Not skintight, but very flattering. It ended mid-thigh, a little higher than most of Juliet’s typical wardrobe.
Her chest and arms had a lace overlay, but there was a large triangle cut out in the back that revealed the top of her spine and her shoulder blades and was entirely too sexy for how little it actually revealed.
“You sure you don’t want to go out to celebrate? You sure look like you want to,” Darcy joked.
Juliet had looked so pleased, though, when her name had been called. She’d been seated relatively close to Darcy, and she’d immediately stared at her when her name had been called. Sure, she’d felt the piercing gut punch of losing.
But… there had been a pleased flush on Juliet’s cheeks that she couldn’t fake.
The sweet but ingenuine smile she loved to flash around was beautiful, but – as Darcy had learned – artificial.
The sexy, biting smile she gave Darcy when she was pleased with herself was, truthfully, even more beautiful, but she didn’t wear it in public.
She’d started really trying to take note of the parts of Juliet that seemed real and the ones that were faked for the image, and that look, that radiant joy that had splashed across Juliet’s face had been so real.
Real was Juliet’s best look. Even if she was snarking or insulting someone, even if that someone was Darcy.
“Are you sure you didn’t want to go out to find some comfort after such a devastating loss?” Juliet shot right back, folding her arms over her chest.
She shrugged. “I told you before: I don’t want to go to an afterparty by myself. Where’s the fun in that?”
Juliet pursed her lips. “That’s something you should probably get used to.”
Darcy frowned, shaking her head in distaste. “Look, if I wanted to go, I would.” She lifted an eyebrow at Juliet, jerking her thumb over her shoulder toward the front door. “Do you want me to go?”