Chapter 14 #2
“I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything about last night.” Louisa saw what she said.
“When you hit him, you said it was for Gigi. What’s up with that?”
“Nothing I care to discuss.”
“Wait, you remember hitting George, but nothing else?”
“That about sums it up,” he said.
“And you’re sure you don’t remember what happened between you and me on the beach?”
“Unfortunately, no,” he said, holding her gaze.
“That’s disappointing.”
“Why don’t you tell me how it started?” he baited, hoping for clarity.
“Well, after the reception, we took a walk on the beach together and then ... you kissed me, saying that you loved me. Next thing I knew, your hand slid up my dress and we got down and dirty in the sand, then we did it again on the covered lounge.”
That is not how he remembered it but nodded. “I’m sorry. I have no recollection.”
“Well, I’ll never forget it.” She searched his gaze. “So, are we still good?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Nothing’s changed?”
He paused, searching her face. “If I slept with you, then yes, everything has changed ... if you end up pregnant.”
“But we’re still together, right?”
“All the more reason to stay the course.”
“And what about the painting acquisition?” she asked.
“Unless you want to, I see no reason to end your contract with La Tempera.”
She grinned and squeezed his hand. “Great! Then I’ll see you tomorrow night after my final gown fitting ... for dinner?”
“Sounds good. I’ll take you for Thai food.” He smiled weakly.
It was clear to Caroline that her Darcy was gone, not coming back to her.
His muddled mind and heart had been pierced by memories and desire—and not for her or the future they had planned as Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Defcon One alarms went off in her head the moment he saw Elizabeth wearing that pink satin dress.
She knew it was a matter of time before she’d get kicked to the curb and felt like absolute shit about it.
She was a fool to have thought the wedding would take place and credited her intuition, having called it the day she signed The Marriage Pact: You’re a complete dumbass if you think not mentioning her or wearing a suit .
.. dumping the booze, or getting your business groove back is going to wipe her or the pain out of your mind.
Apparently, Lizzy wasn’t as canceled as she or even Darcy believed.
Poised to do the unthinkable to recover from her dejection and blow to self-esteem, she rapped on a hotel suite door. Waiting, she held her breath.
“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses.”
The door opened. Apart from the bruise on his chin and cheek, George stood at the threshold in wet perfection. His slick skin and the white towel tied around his hips played their usual torment on her womanhood.
“Back for more?” He smirked.
Sauntering into the room, she played cool even though her heart broke and vacillated between conscience and not giving a fuck.
“In fact ... yes. More is exactly the reason I’m here,” she said removing her blazer.
“What happened? Did he find out about last night in the elevator?”
“No. I worked it out. He was so drunk he couldn’t remember anything. Never mind him. Did she find out?”
He snorted. “Not once.”
“So, what you’re implying is that I wasn’t your first extracurricular screw.”
Again, he snorted. “Hey, a guy’s gonna do what a guy’s gonna do—for art’s sake, of course.”
“Not all guys, George. You’re a special brand of unregulated testosterone, masquerading as an artist to get laid.”
“Hey, women are lining up to have their tits and asses photographed by me. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Believe what you want, but it wasn’t meant as one.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, then smirked. “Do you think they got together last night?”
“What are you kidding? Darcy won’t even sleep with me before our wedding, let alone the ex-girlfriend who stomped on his heart.”
“Don’t be so sure. He would’ve screwed her on the dance floor had I not been shot down by the waitress when I did.” Shrugging, he said. “The girl was probably a lesbian, but I could’ve turned her had she given me a chance.”
“Charming. I take it, your wedding is still on?” she asked.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“No reason.” Apparently, Elizabeth hadn’t come to her senses yet. George was definitely not husband material.
“And your wedding?” he asked.
“Same. No reason it wouldn’t be,” she lied.
Wrapping his arm around her waist, he roughly pulled her against his body. “Good. I love balling married women.”
“I didn’t say we’d make a habit of this, and it won’t continue after I marry Darcy.”
“And yet you’re cheating on him now. Apparently, I’m a habit you can’t quit.”
“A bad habit.”
He kissed her neck. “You’ve always liked bad boys, Carrie.”
Stay away from him, Beanz. I mean it. “Don’t confuse ‘like’ with ‘enjoy.’” She released the towel from his hip.
The Night Before the Morning After
The last guest departed the ballroom, and Caroline stood beside the demolished cake, watching her newly married sister’s attempt to wake her husband. As expected, they were off to a shitty start. “Louisa, have you seen Darcy?” she asked.
“Last I saw him, he was out on the deck. Maybe he went for a late-night walk to shake off his anger. That guy’s got issues.”
“You would, too, if your ex-husband showed up looking hot on some gorgeous woman’s arm.”
Louisa kicked Hurst’s foot. “Frankly, darling, I would have beat it outta here with him in a heartbeat.”
“How can you say such a thing on your wedding night?”
“Hey, Adam may have been a miserable drunk, but we had fun together, and he stayed awake!”
“And you don’t have fun with Hurst?”
“Look at him, Carrie. Oh, yeah, he’s the life of the party,” she said sarcastically. “Watching television and gaming ... damn tedious ways to pass an evening.”
“Well, there’s always sex.”
“Tonight? Oh, please, darling. He won’t be able to keep it up long enough to consummate the marriage.”
“I hate to tease, but ... from what I saw when he peed on the palm, why bother?”
Louisa laughed. “A small price to pay for his large bank account.”
Together, they got him up and somehow managed to get him to the honeymoon suite, making jokes about him the whole way.
Yup, one hell of a marriage ahead of them, which made her think about her own upcoming nuptials.
Was all the money worth marrying a man who didn’t love her like a husband should love her?
Was once-a-month sex with said man enough to satisfy her healthy sex drive?
Why marry a man who didn’t desire her and was in love with someone else?
She may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she knew nothing good ever came from a love triangle.
The last thing she wanted to do was spend the rest of her best years either arguing with him, pining for something she’d never have, or feeling cheated out of things money couldn’t buy.
Riding the elevator down to her room on the second floor, she felt more than a tinge of jealousy about Elizabeth.
She felt downright sadness over the whole miserable affair.
The saner side of her—the one who truly cared about Darcy’s happiness, not the mercenary bitch he was about to marry—considered letting him go before things got messy or ugly.
But could she, as a cast off, make it on her own?
Darcy and his money had always been a part of her life.
The elevator door opened to the third floor, and to her surprise, George Wickham entered, looking a little beat up.
Still, she felt the energy rolling off him, a sort of electric current that happened whenever he was hyped from either coke, drink, or desire. The look on his bruised face said all three were in play and that once meant a thirty-minute joy ride.
“Carrie,” he seductively said.
“George.”
No sooner had the doors closed, he leaned in front of her and pushed the red button on the panel. With a jolt, the elevator stopped.
“What did you do that for?” she asked, although she knew the answer, actually delighting in the prospect if for no other reason than to lift her spirits.
“Because I’m going to give you what you’ve obviously wanted all night.”
“You’re drunk.”
“True, but you still want me.”
“That’s the wrong thing to say.”
He flashed a crooked smile. “Ah, feeling a bit discarded tonight? Poor thing. Well, he may not want you, Carrie, but I do. You’re beautiful, sexy, funny, and you make my cock so hard I can hardly think straight.”
“Much better. And what about Elizabeth?”
“She’s nothing compared to you.”