Change of Plans
(Liam)
In the morning, I shower again, pull on the hotel’s bathrobe and make my way into the living area. I’m not sure what to say to Darcy when I see her, but fortunately she doesn’t seem to be up yet.
Five bags are laid out on the dining room table. I’d had my assistant send new clothes for both Darcy and me.
I pull on the clean boxers, grab the socks and shirt and return to my room to dress. I don’t bother with the tie and leave my top button undone for comfort.
In the kitchen area, I make a pot of coffee and soon the aroma fills the suite with the smell of morning.
Darcy’s door is still shut. Not wanting to wake her, I decide to work quietly at the dining table. On my second cup of coffee, I pick up my phone and open my emails. Over fifty have arrived since meeting Darcy at the coffee shop yesterday. I scan them and ignore them all but the ones from Victor.
When I go to the kitchen to pour my third cup, I decide I can’t wait to see Darcy anymore. I pour an extra cup, leaving it black because I don’t know how she takes it, and walk to her door. Trying not to make a noise, I turn the handle and open the unlocked door.
The bed is unslept in.
“Darcy?” I call out, knowing there will be no response.
I back out of the room and grab my phone to call her. There’s no answer, it goes to voicemail. I fucking hate voicemail. It’s the default computer voice, not even hers. Frustrated, I punch the end call button and type her out a text.
Everything okay?
I type out ‘I miss you’ then delete it just as fast.
“Dammit!” I scream. I flop onto the sofa, resisting the urge to chuck my phone against the wall.
At least let me know you’re safe
Time passes at a speed so slow I can replay our entire evening between each tick of the second hand. After ten long minutes, I send another text.
I’m worried sick about you.
Jesus, Darcy, let me know you’re okay
The phone beeps, startling me.
Of course I’m okay, I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself
The tension in my shoulders eases but that doesn’t stop me from being so fucking angry at myself.
I owe you an explanation
Nothing.
Still nothing.
Please
I never beg. What is she turning me into? Did she go to the convention? It won’t be open for another hour. Did she stay in this hotel last night, or go to a different one?
She’ll go to the convention. I’ll find her there. In the meantime I dial her phone, on repeat. It always goes to voicemail but I’m not about to leave a message. Not yet, anyway.
Enough of this. I grab my suit jacket and head for the lobby. With any luck I’ll spot her there, and if not I’ll hang out at the entrance of the convention center. With any luck, I’ll catch her on the way into the event.
Other than a woman checking out, the lobby is devoid of people. Without slowing my pace, I hit the street and keep going until I reach the convention center. The doors are all locked. A few people are hanging around out front. I guess some people just can’t wait to sink their teeth into some chocolate.
Frustrated, I kick a trash can. The noise draws everyone’s attention to me. I don’t smile, or offer any sort of explanation. Instead I glare at them. Glare at any person who comes anywhere near the convention center. Glare at the people in cars as they drive by.
Fuck this shit. I text her again.
I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone more than I’ve wanted to fuck you
A few seconds later, my phone beeps.
Then why didn’t you?
Let me explain
I’m waiting
In person
Still waiting
How about over coffee?
Can’t, I’m in New York, took the first flight out
The news hit me like a punch to the gut. Unsure what to do next, I stare at the screen. I always know what to do next. As much as I was interested in checking out the chocolate expo with Darcy, now all I want to do is try to find her. It seems like I should send her a message back, but I can’t decide what to say. I send a quick message to my assistant, telling her to get my jet ready.
Six hours later, the wheels of my jet hit the tarmac at Teterboro. An hour after that, I’m back in my two-story penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park.
In my private gym, I pound the punching bag for all I’m worth. Sweat trickles into my eyes, but I don’t even bother to wipe it away. All I know is I had the most perfect woman in my arms, and I let her slip away.
Stupid.
Fucking.
Idiot.
Darcy will be back in my arms.
I grunt with each of my punches until my chest heaves so much I’m forced to stop.
Showered and dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, I sit on my sofa and stare out over the Manhattan skyline. What to do? I send a quick note to my assistant.
Find me the best event in the city next weekend and get me tickets.
Darcy and I made a deal. I went to her event. She’ll come to mine, I’m sure of it.
Opera?
No, something I can talk during
An awards ceremony?
Boring
Art exhibition?
You know I hate those
My assistant goes on to list a half dozen other types of events and I quash them all. I only want one thing. Darcy.
Grabbing my phone, I quickly type out another text to my assistant.
Forget finding an event, find out everything you can about Darcy Knight and Knight Global Events.