When Darcy calls me to the office, you best believe I drop everything no matter what and I order up that Town Car. Now that I’ve almost made it to his office door, I’m nearly breathless with excitement. It’s not even sexual excitement—although it could definitely turn into that.

I’m just eager for whatever’s going to happen next.

If there is anybody else I see on this floor, they’re usually older and well-dressed. I’m thrown for a loop by the sight of a kid, maybe twenty years old, winded and carrying two big, brown paper bags over to Darcy’s receptionist. Her desk is usually empty, but she’s there now and looking nervous.

The kid is wearing a plaid shirt and cargo shorts, and he has a ridiculously scruffy blond beard. He’s so young for that beard, maybe he has no concept of what shaving is. I try not to laugh at this thought as I overhear the receptionist questioning the kid in a hushed tone.

“When did these come out of the oven?”

“Ten.”

“And you stopped at the patisserie, not the bodega?”

“The bodega was only for the beer, I got the pastries at the fancy place.”

The receptionist knows to ignore me as I pass. I can’t help but wonder what the hell is going on with those items. Maybe it’s part of some weird office thing that has nothing to do with me. Or, it could be part of whatever Darcy has in store.

I don’t want to know. I want some questions unanswered. For once I don’t even want to get used to this, or anything.

Fuck falling into ruts, routines, and the same crap over and over. That’s not life. That’s just days going by. Life is what Darcy gives me.

I couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

I’m practically shaking with anticipation as I push open Darcy’s office door.

Darcy’s sitting at his desk with perfect professional posture. The desk’s glass surface is completely tidy. There are no errant papers or chaotic piles of stuff, really nothing but an open laptop that Darcy’s clicking away on.

Darcy stands up and starts walking in my direction. He’s making unbroken eye contact, he must be on his way to give me a big, romantic kiss like in the movies before sweeping me off my feet for our next adventure, whatever that may be…but now he’s stopping. What the shit is this?

He pulls out one of the chairs facing his desk and gestures towards it.

“Please, take a seat.”

Darcy is keeping me guessing, I’ll say that much. This is leading somewhere good, I’m sure. It better be.

I walk over and sit down like I’m at a job interview. Okay, this is kind of fun. I suppose.

Darcy retakes his spot behind the laptop. If this is the game we’re playing, I can go along.

“Would you mind telling me what this meeting is about, sir?” I start in mockingly, “I know your time is valuable, I don’t want to waste it.”

Darcy laughs, honest but mild. I almost jump when I hear the door open behind me. I turn my head around. Darcy’s receptionist—I feel awful not knowing her name—is carrying in an actual silver platter laid out with bagels, chocolate croissants, and scones. The platter is also holding a few small, gold serving dishes holding whipped butter, strawberry cream cheese and what looks like orange marmalade.

“You can just put that right on my desk.”

Darcy’s receptionist looks relieved to do just that, making a loud clanking noise on the glass surface. “The bagels came out of the oven at ten.”

With that announcement, the receptionist half-jogs out of the office. It doesn’t seem like she’s scared—I think that’s just what she does every time.

Darcy checks his watch. “The bagels should still be pretty fresh.”

It’s not even eleven thirty.

“It this a business meeting?” I’m trying to be amused, but this is getting strange.

“This is an announcement, really.” Darcy is barely holding back a grin. Damn, he’s genuinely excited. I almost start laughing myself.

“Just spit it out!”

He laughs. And then he relents. “You’re looking at the new owner of Bennet Babes.”

In an instant, my whole body goes ice-cold, and I feel like throwing up all over that stupid platter. Did I really hear that? I’m hoping this is a joke or maybe just a nightmare as Darcy prattles on like nothing’s wrong.

“Wait, did you want coffee? Espresso? Sparkling water? I think she was supposed to bring in some pear Lambic, I think it’s actually good in the morning…”

“Coffee? What the fuck! Please tell me this is some kind of a...are you serious with this?” Now I’m actually shaking, but with anger and confusion. “Is this your way of breaking up with me?”

Darcy is gazing at my eyes, he looks so goddamn calm. I summon every fiber of my being to stop myself from crying.

“First things first: I am not ending what we have. That’s the last thing I want to do, and it’s not happening. Period.”

“What do you mean by that…fuck. Just, please explain, and don’t delay it anymore.”

“Lizzie, I want you in my life. I never want to lose that. I feel as strongly about that as I feel about anything. I’ve found a way to keep what we have while I also run Bennet Babes.”

I’ll admit it: I’m full-on crying at this point. I’m also flat-out confused, so I try to stay balanced with my words.

“Please, Mr. Darcy, elucidate what you mean by that.”

Darcy does not break his eye contact and his warm expression doesn’t falter.

“Your archives are, I can say confidently, the best in the business. And, I bet you have even more content that’s not online right now.”

Fuck, now I am going to throw up, and also throw this goddamn desk out the window. I feel my face flushing with rage. As much as I want to tell Darcy to just stop talking, please, I can’t even find my voice. I know where he’s going and I can’t stop him from telling me anyway.

“All that content, Lizzie. We have the quality and quantity to put all other tube sites to shame. We can eliminate almost all our current expenses, and then, Lizzie, we can stay together. I’m as surprised as anyone that I’m actually about to say this, but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I’m not crying anymore. I’m just beyond everything: beyond upset, beyond sickened, beyond perplexed that he would dare to do this.

“I just have one question: what’s going to happen to everyone who relies on the site for their livelihood? What happens to all the staff you won’t need anymore? What happens to my friends?”

Something about that last word breaks me. Tears start streaming out, and I just want to throw myself on the floor and sob. Instead, I just look at Darcy, knowing that he has no good answer. He cannot meet my gaze.

He’s projecting somber shame, but how can I trust him now?

I stand up and walk as steadily as I can to the office door. I can’t leave it like this, though. I cannot even stomach facing him right now, so with my back to him I say my piece:

“I’m not fooled, Mr. Darcy. If it’s not your cock, or your wallet, it means nothing to you.”

I don’t know what comes next, but for now, all I can do is walk out the door.