Lydia was lost in silence. The journey to the airport passed without any words exchanged between her and Wick. She had called her housekeeper, who in turn had made arrangements for The Bennet Group jet to be ready upon their arrival, but the plane could not depart for a further hour due to flight schedules.

Lydia was sure they would be followed once Eliza and Jane found out about her elopement, and while part of her eagerly anticipated the inevitable confrontation, a bigger part of her hoped they’d at least make it to Vegas before being accosted. It would be a real buzzkill to only get as far as the jet’s doors, and yet another example of her out-of-control ineptness that Eliza would take great glee in reminding her of again, and again, and again.

Lydia could hear it now— “She tried to elope once, you know. They didn’t even make it into the air. What a complete farce, but then again, that’s Lydia all over. She’s useless, even when she’s trying to rebel.”

Yeah, Lydia was determined to make it to Vegas.

She stared out of the car window at the dark night’s sky and swallowed down the tiny bit of shame she felt for ruining Jane’s night. Her gaze caught the reflection of a chiselled profile in the glass and Lydia lifted her eyes from the blackness outside to observe the stranger she’d brought along for the ride.

Wick Austen.

She’d Googled him not ten minutes ago, but not bothered to read what was written about him. Why pretend this was anything more than her getting what she wanted—and what she wanted more than anything was to see Eliza’s face when she finally found out the news.

Wick Austen was collateral damage.

Hot, tempting and possibly dangerous collateral damage, but Lydia never worried about consequences. Why should she?

Wick sat silently in the dark of the limousine with his gaze anywhere but her and his thoughts passed over his features faster than Lydia could decipher them. She could happily watch him thinking all night. His brow would crinkle occasionally, and his full lips would twist up in a sly smile. At times, it appeared that Wick thought he’d hit the mother lode and his face couldn’t mask his opportunistic glee, but Lydia wasn’t concerned by whatever Machiavellian plans he was plotting because she had a few of her own.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

Lydia’s voice broke the silence of the car and Wick flicked his eyes to hers.

“Only a penny?” he enquired with a roguish grin that turned him from handsome to positively knicker-melting.

Lydia allowed herself to return a slow, seductive smile. It was the smile she always used on men to get whatever her heart desired.

“Well, a penny for your thoughts seems a little pricey to me, but I can afford it.”

“I’m sure you can.” Wick’s grin widened. “I’m also certain that you’re aware I’m in a rented suit and wearing my only good pair of shoes. Which begs the question, why are we going to Vegas?”

Lydia broke his far too intuitive gaze and turned her attention to the muted glare of the airport lights.

“Who was the guy you were with earlier?”

Wick changed his approach, allowing Lydia to avoid his first question because it didn’t matter why a beautiful, rich woman wanted to marry him in secret. He was more than up for the task but he was also beyond intrigued to find out why.

“Conrad.”

“Are we playing the one-word answer game?”

Lydia’s eyes flashed to his, and she watched as a slow smile curved the corner of his mouth and his shoulders rose into a nonchalant shrug.

“I’m only trying to get to know my bride to be. For all I know, that guy you pissed off could be your husband, and while I’m down for a rush wedding, I’m not sure I’m ready for bigamy.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Lydia admitted with a sigh, matching his casual indifference with her own.

“So, let me guess. We’re doing this to enrage him further? Because he looked a little miffed by your show-stopping performance, therefore I’m assuming he’s going to be positively murderous by this new development.”

“Conrad doesn’t own me. Neither do my sisters or the Bennet name. We’re doing this because I want to do it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Lydia turned to face Wick fully and leant forward in her seat until her silk covered knees touched his suit covered ones.

“Do you not want to marry me, Mr Austen?”

Wick followed her movements and bracketed her thighs with his. Lydia looked down at where they touched, and a flash of heat passed through her at the feel of his strong legs pinning her in place.

“It’s tradition to at least take your wife to be on a date before getting hitched.” His voice was throaty, intimate and enticing.

“I’m not a traditional girl.”

Wick’s legs tightened around Lydia’s at her breathy confession and the air in the car thickened with sexual tension.

“What about sex before marriage? Are you traditional in that sense?”

Wick’s eyes roamed her face and landed on Lydia’s parted lips.

“Mr Austen,” she breathed huskily. “Why don’t you come a little closer and find out.”

* * *

Darcy questioned the bartender half-heartedly. His amusement at this drama unfolding from a few overheard words at a bar was evident in his manner, his tone and the ever-present grin on his face.

Eliza, on the other hand, grilled the poor man as if he’d committed a crime. Darcy was surprised she hadn’t demanded his birth certificate, bank statements and any other evidence she deemed necessary to prove he wasn’t bullshitting her or hiding anything important.

Once she was satisfied his words were truthful and had heard his retelling of the scene over a dozen times, she dialled for her PA.

“George, I know you had the weekend off, but I’ll add an extra week on your holiday allowance if you can come in straight away.”

Darcy appeared as if he wasn’t listening to Eliza’s conversation but he was with rapt attention. He’d expected her to bark out orders at her assistant despite it being a Saturday night, but instead, she bargained with him. Had her tone not been abrupt due to her worry over the Lydia situation, Darcy thought he could hear the underlying nature of an easy friendship between them.

“Okay, okay, two weeks and an extra bonus. I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important, George.”

Darcy swallowed a snort at hearing Eliza get played by her assistant and Jane, on witnessing his amusement, whispered in his ear, “Eliza might be the boss of TBG, but George is her right-hand woman. I think she’s the only one that gives Eliza as good as she gets.”

“George is a woman?”

Jane laughed loud enough to briefly catch Eliza’s attention before she once more spoke into her phone, “We’ll be at the office in fifteen minutes. I’ll fill you in when we get there.”

Jane leant into Darcy’s side and admitted, “Her name is Georgiana, but don’t you dare call her that unless you want to incur her wrath and I wouldn’t advise it. You think Eliza is feisty. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Darcy should have paid more heed to Jane’s warning.

They arrived at TBG’s multi-story building in the heart of the city’s financial district and made their way to the top floor. He didn’t know what to expect regarding the supposedly ‘feisty’ George and he certainly didn’t anticipate being introduced to a sweet looking older lady, with bifocal glasses, tightly permed hair, and wearing a pleated tartan skirt, cashmere twinset and pearls. She looked far more like a Georgiana than a George.

“What’re these pretty boys doing here?”

George didn’t bother with introductions. She took one look at Darcy and Bing and spat the question at Eliza before bustling back behind her desk.

“Their brother has abducted Lydia,” Eliza replied before kicking off her high heels and padding around George’s desk to turn on the top-of-the range computer system that sat there.

“He didn’t abduct her, Lize,” Jane interjected, keeping her voice neutral and soothing. “They absconded together by all accounts.”

“Abducted, absconded, it’s all the same to me,” Eliza sniped. “Our dearest sister has plane-jacked the company jet, and she and the brother of these pretty boys are on their way to Las Vegas.”

That got George’s attention.

“Las Vegas? Is she pregnant?” George turned to Bing and poked a finger in his chest while shouting, “Did your good for nothing brother knock up little Lydia?”

Bing withered under George’s anger, and Jane stepped between them both to diffuse the situation, but the little firecracker of a woman went up on her tiptoes and continued to stare at Bing as if he was evil incarnate.

“George, it’s not what you think,” Jane began, but the little whirlwind was having none of it.

“Why else would a girl of good standing like Lydia elope to Vegas with some random? What’s the name of your brother, boy? I want to get Malc to do a full profile,” George demanded, stepping forward until Jane was sandwiched between her and Bing.

“I’ve already sent Malcolm all the details I have on Wick Austen,” Eliza called from her spot at the desk.

“He’s emailing over everything he has before we leave. Which is why I’m here.”

Eliza looked briefly at Darcy and then addressed George once more. “I need you to get us booked on the next private flight out of the city. I don’t care what it costs, and I know you, George—” she smiled wickedly at the older lady “—you’ve got more contacts than God. If anyone can get us there by morning, it’s you.”

The older woman seemed to puff up to twice her size at Eliza’s compliment and with Bing forgotten and a task in hand, she stepped away from their confrontation as if it never happened.

“I’ll have your travel details sorted within the next hour. How many? Are the pretty boys going too?”

George eyeballed first Bing and then Darcy, and on landing her gaze on the eldest Austen, she pouted her heavily lipsticked mouth and added saucily, “Although, if you want to leave me that one, I could give him a test drive.”

Darcy’s cheeks burned, a reaction he hadn’t had since he was a teen caught fawning over his French teacher. He cleared his voice before speaking, addressing Eliza and choosing a topic that would divert the attention of the cougar eyeing him like he was her next meal.

“Why bother to investigate my brother? We can tell you anything you need to know, and while we’re at it, you can finally fill us in on that flighty sister of yours.”

Eliza walked out from behind the desk, grabbing the small tablet that sat next to the computer. After handing the device to George—who still gazed at Darcy with hunger—and instructing her to arrange flights, Eliza came to stand beside Jane and Bing.

“Why would you tell us the truth about your brother? As far as I’m concerned, Wick came tonight with one intention, and that was to snare himself somebody of wealth.”

Darcy scoffed, “What a ridiculous assumption. What made you conjure up that preposterous idea?”

Eliza didn’t smile, but her eyes flashed in victory.

“Because, Mr Austen. I’ve just run a search on your family’s company, and the information I found was fascinating.”

Darcy shrugged. He had nothing to hide from the Bennets.

“So what? If you’d asked, I would’ve told you that Austen’s has been in difficulty for a few years. It’s not something I’m ashamed to admit. I wanted to sell, my family thinks otherwise. There is nothing to hide.”

“Really?” Eliza pressed, her eyes boring into his. “You would eagerly have told me how your company is weeks, at a push, months away from bankruptcy?”

Darcy opened his mouth to confirm this truth when Eliza halted him with her open palm in his face.

“Be careful, Darcy,” she warned, elongating the syllables of his first name until it ended on a rasp of her breath. “I’m very good at reading people. I know when someone is lying, and once lost, my good opinion is gone forever.”

Darcy took a step forward. The urge to get closer to this maddening woman crept through his veins like poison. When he was all but an arm’s reach away, he smiled devilishly.

“Then I’m assuming, knowing the weak disposition of most of humanity, you must have a propensity to hate everyone.”

Eliza matched his smile and said in her sweetest voice, one laced with the promise of unyielding retribution, “And, you—” she smirked but didn’t break eye contact “—are guilty of misjudging them all. Who do you think has the worst character flaw, Mr Austen? The one who won’t abide liars, or the one who doesn’t look further than the end of his nose?”