Lydia was too hot.

Something was pressed up against her back emitting a sweaty heat that clung to her skin.

Wick Austen.

She was no longer Lydia Bennet. She was now Mrs Lydia Austen.

She should’ve felt elated. She felt nothing.

Nothing in her life had changed, she felt no different to how she did last week or even last year. She was still the troublesome Lydia, and neither Eliza nor Jane had bothered to try and stop her this time.

She’d finally got her wish. She’d argued and shouted and pushed Eliza repeatedly to stay out of her business, and this time, her sister had done just that and stayed far, far away.

This knowledge should have been freeing, but all Lydia felt was hurt, and possibly more alone than at any other point in her life.

“Fuck them,” she muttered to herself, extracting her limbs from the tangled sheets and away from the sweaty body draped across her back. She walked naked into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the multiple jets of the shower. Lydia’s body almost sang as the hot water stripped away her sins, that is until her most recent sin came and found her.

Wick slipped his hands around her waist and dragged her wet body against his. Lydia felt the press of his arousal as it slid between her soapy thighs and she gasped, widening her stance for him to gain better access.

Lydia may be having doubts as to her motives, but she could still enjoy the perks of her latest misdemeanour, and Wick Austen was a very pleasing lover. Attentive, generous and with a stamina that most men would be envious of, Wick knew his way around a woman’s body and Lydia would never deny herself the pleasure he could give.

“Hello, wife,” he rasped into her ear while his talented fingers caressed her pebbled nipples and his impressive length slid over her most sensitive flesh.

“Shall I dirty you up again so we can get clean together?”

“Yes,” Lydia hissed, his body filling hers with a single thrust.

“Then, once I’ve satisfied you and washed every inch of you, I’m taking my wife out. I’m feeling particularly lucky tonight, and we’re in Vegas after all. It would be a shame to miss out on the fun. Don’t you think, Mrs Austen?”

“Shut up and fuck me, Rick,” Lydia demanded, purposefully getting her new husband’s name wrong.

“Oh, wifey,” Wick mocked with a punishing thrust. “Please let’s not play games. You’ve yelled my name dozens of times already. It’s too late to try and rile me.”

“Then stop blathering and fuck me,” Lydia commanded, bracing her hands on the Italian marble wall tiles and pushing back roughly to meet each thrust of his hips.

“With pleasure,” Wick grunted, wrapping her long wet hair around one of his hands and harshly tugging her head back until her neck was stretched awkwardly and her inner muscles clamped hard around him.

“You’ve just promised to honour and obey me,” he continued, the sounds of their slick bodies slapping against each other echoing across the steamy bathroom. “I think this is our first lesson. Now scream for me, wife.”

And despite herself, Lydia did.

Wick manipulated her body to do his bidding and she was soon yelling his name with abandon.

Dressed in a simple, nude silk sheath dress, gold Jimmy Choo heels and with her hair cascading down her back in dark glossy waves, Lydia Austen was sure to draw attention.

“Shall I call for a car?” Wick asked, his gaze drinking in his new wife’s curves as she stood overlooking the private outdoor pool with a glass of champagne in one hand and her ever-present phone in the other.

Lydia nodded and dropped her attention from the ripples in the water to the device in her hand. The move had Wick wondering what it was that she seemed to be constantly checking.

“This is Mr Austen. Could we have a car sent to our villa please?”

Wick listened to the staff member apologise and place him on hold.

“Mr Austen,” a baritone voice came on the line only a few seconds later. “I’m afraid we can’t get a car to you for at least forty-five minutes.”

“So, call us a cab. We’d like to eat out,” Wick requested amiably, not yet sensing anything amiss.

“No other vehicles are allowed on site, so I’m unable to fulfil that request at this time, but I will get a car to you as soon as one is available. Can I help you with anything else? Maybe send over some canapés while you wait?”

Wick’s brow furrowed. For an establishment such as this, making their guests wait almost an hour for a vehicle seemed a little ridiculous. The Mansion prided itself on catering to guests’ every whim, yet something as simple as transport was being denied.

“No, thank you. Can you call as soon as a car is ready? My wife will be disappointed not to leave straight away. We had a dinner reservation with friends.” They didn’t.

“Certainly, sir. And I apologise again for the delay.”

Wick hung up on the deep male voice and almost dazedly replaced the phone on its stand. He walked over to Lydia, who hadn’t paid any attention to his conversation and informed her of the delay.

“Get me the phone and tell whoever answers it that Lydia Bennet wishes to speak to Raul.”

“Lydia who?” Wick teased at the use of her maiden name.

“Bennet,” Lydia chastised, her tone abrupt but bored. “Do you think the name Austen means anything in this town?”

It will do soon.

Wick retrieved the handset and returned to Lydia, pressing the call button as he walked.

“Lydia Bennet wishes to speak to Raul,” he informed the person who answered—the same person who put him on hold only minutes before. He handed the phone to Lydia and within seconds heard her say, “Raul, I need a car.”

A brief silence was followed by Lydia replying, “Raul, have you forgotten TBG is a major shareholder in the MGM Group?”

Another silence followed, one which allowed Wick to ponder just how far-reaching The Bennet Group’s hold stretched.

“Get. Me. A. Car. I am not my sister, Raul.”

Wick absently wondered if Raul was the owner of the deep voice that had offered him canapés. He hoped for his sake that he hadn’t tried to placate Lydia with the same offer.

“That is utter bullshit. If you don’t send a car over in the next five minutes, I’ll have your job, Raul. And unlike my sister, I don’t make threats, only promises.”

Lydia hung up on the unaccommodating Raul and turned her angry glare on Wick.

Deciding payback was fair game Wick smirked before flopping down on the plush sofa and saying, “Well, my sweet, it seems the name Bennet doesn’t hold much sway either.”

* * *

“They’re trying to leave the villa,” Eliza announced after bursting through the doors of Bing’s room. She didn’t even blink twice at the fact her middle sister was entwined like a vine around the softly spoken Austen brother.

“I’ll get dressed,” Jane rushed out, hiding her blush by jumping out of the bed as if it was on fire and hightailing it into the bathroom. Bing Austen looked all rumpled and adorable, staring at Eliza from under the white sheets with a cute look that said he wasn’t embarrassed in the least.

“Are you yet another Austen brother leading one of my sisters astray?”

Bing’s smile faded, his face turning serious before he replied earnestly, “If I am, I will not apologise for it.”

Eliza saw before her a man enraptured, and a man unwilling to say sorry for feeling that way. She looked at his dishevelled hair and sleep-hazed face and decided that Bing Austen might just be one of the most honest and honourable men she’d ever met.

“And I would never ask you to,” Eliza replied after a beat. “Now get dressed, the car is already waiting for us downstairs. Oh, and call your brother and tell him to meet us there, that’s if he’s not as pissed as a fart and flat on his back beneath Collins.”

Eliza walked out of the room closing the door behind her and not bothering to wait for Bing to decipher her words.

Collins Forster was a bastard of the highest order. Not only had he made Pemberley’s life hell and broke her heart, but he’d also done his damnedest to ruin Eliza’s friendship with her best friend. It wasn’t enough that he screwed any man that let him, he wanted to hurt Pembs in any way he could.

Unluckily for Collins, Pemberley and Eliza’s friendship was made of stronger stuff than her marriage, and when the clandestine pictures of a drunk and partially clothed Eliza in Collins’ bed emerged, Pembs saw them for what they were—a last-ditch attempt by a mean and desperate man to manipulate her once more.

Eliza Bennet wouldn’t piss on Collins Forster if he were on fire.

He used her loyalty to Pembs against her and splashed her name in the tabloids, not only embarrassing Eliza but her father too. The man was a devious, manipulative shark and she shouldn’t have been surprised when Darcy Austen left with him a few hours ago, but she was. Yes, the man had proved himself to be antagonising, irritating and from a family with no breeding, but she hadn’t expected him to be enough of an idiot to fall into Collins’ trap.

Well, good luck to him. Eliza hoped he enjoyed every second of being Forster’s bitch.

“What are you doing?” Eliza asked Pembs when she came across her in the living room dressed like an Amazonian ready for battle. Pemberley wore skin tight leather-look leggings, black spike heeled boots, and an artfully slashed and pinned t-shirt that looked like it was scavenged from a bin but likely cost a small fortune in some designer store.

“You didn’t think I’d miss out on all the fireworks, did you?” Pemberley’s eyes sparkled dangerously. “I haven’t seen you lose your shit in ages. I’d sell my firstborn to witness Lydia’s face when she sees you and the rest of your entourage.” Pemberley tightened the studded belt slung low around her hips. “The little wench deserves a good smack-down.” Pembs motioned to her attire and said with a cheeky wink, “I’m just dressed for the occasion, you know in case the paps arrive and I need to look like a badass.”

Eliza rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile threatening to break past her tightly pressed lips.

“It’s The Mansion, there won’t be any paps, and you really don’t need to be caught up in this mess, Pembs.”

“Who said anything about need? I want to be caught up in this. I also want to check out if the third brother is as hot as the other two. Collins has taken the shine off the older one for me, so I want to assess the baby brother’s level of hotness for when Lydia inevitably kicks his butt to the kerb. He might need a sugar-mama to help him lick his wounds.”

Eliza flopped on the sofa next to her friend and pulled on the low-heeled Chanel boots Pembs had loaned her. Eliza had been in her gown for what felt like days, so the basic blue jeans and simple white shirt felt ridiculously comfortably in comparison, despite being a size too small for Eliza’s more generous curves.

“You don’t do sloppy seconds, Pembs. You just want some free entertainment at my expense.”

“At Lydia’s expense, my little Doo-Doo. Never yours,” Pembs corrected, coming to sit by her friend and wrapping her arm around her shoulder.

“How come the delicious Darcy fell into Collins’ web of bullshit? I thought with the way he looks at you, you were finally about to get some hot man action instead of locking yourself in your office all bloody day long.”

Eliza allowed herself to absorb the comfort of her friend’s embrace, choosing to ignore the question about the oldest Austen brother.

“It’s not like you to have nothing to say?” Pembs pushed, unwilling to allow Eliza to lock away and hide her feelings like the girl she first met many years ago.

Eliza sighed heavily before pulling away from her friend and standing.

“I don’t have time to be psychoanalysed. We need to leave. Raul can only delay Lydia for so long.”

Eliza power-walked to Bing’s bedroom door, then banged on it with her fist and yelled, “We’re leaving, if you’re not downstairs in two minutes you’re not coming.”

As she walked back into the living area, Pemberley looked at her with both eyebrows raised.

“You need to get laid,” she declared with a straight face, before scooping up her sunglasses and following Eliza out of the penthouse and into the private vestibule. She watched with fascination as her friend aggressively hit the call button for the elevator.

“If you break my lift, I’m billing you.”

Click, click, click, click, click. Eliza ignored her friend and continued her assault.

“I’m serious, Doo-Doo, stop taking your sexually frustrated aggression out on my property. Do you know how long I had to wait for the last engineer to show up and repair this when it broke down?”

Eliza turned her head and looked over her shoulder at her friend.

“You mean the guy you shacked up with for a week afterwards? I’m sure if you’d let him escape from your bed you’d have had it fixed in a jiffy.”

Pemberley grinned. Her eyes glinting devilishly as she remembered the smoking-hot elevator guy and his talented tongue.

“True. That may have had something to do with it. Still, all the stair climbing combined with the one-to-one cardio he provided did wonders for my glutes.” She tapped her finger thoughtfully on her lips and encouraged, “Go ahead and click the shit out of that call button. You’ve just reminded me that tradesmen often have a great deal of stamina.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re jealous.”

Eliza turned her head back to the arriving elevator and replied tartly, “Of what? Being able to pee without burning. You can keep your whoring ways. I’m happy and healthier being frigid.”

The doors opened with a ding and Eliza stepped onto the carriage before spinning around to face Pemberley with a sarcastic smile and another quip ready on her lips, but she fell silent when she came face to face with not only her friend but also Bing and Jane.

She hid her embarrassment with a brusque, “So glad you could join us.” Then promptly stepped back to lean against the farthest wall.

As Pemberley joined her, followed closely by Jane and Bing, Eliza held her hand up to her grinning friend to indicate that she didn’t want further discussions about her sexual health, and the trip to the ground floor was thankfully made in silence. Eliza didn’t miss the new development of Bing and Jane holding hands, and she was beyond happy for her sister. The middle Austen brother seemed like the perfect match for Jane, but that didn’t stop Eliza from wrapping her arms around herself despite the Vegas heat and trying to stave off the chill of loneliness that permeated her bones.

The journey to The Mansion was less than twenty minutes. The heavy Las Vegas traffic only slowing them down a little and from the moment Eliza got the call about Lydia from Raul and Pemberley’s Bentley pulling up outside the villa where the newlyweds were staying, less than forty-five minutes had passed.

Eliza didn’t wait to give anyone instructions, and no sooner than the car had pulled to a stop, she was out of the door and striding up the private walkway towards the villa that Raul had previously informed her was Lydia’s.

“Car service,” Eliza shouted, not bothering to disguise her voice and banging both fists hard on the front door of the villa. Eliza—having stayed here as a guest many times before—knew that what she was doing was not how an employee of the hotel would behave, but she was beyond caring. This charade would fool no one, but it would get Lydia to open the damned door.

Less than a minute later, Eliza heard the others walking up behind her, but no one came to open the door.

Getting frustrated, Eliza banged on the heavy wood door once more.

“Lydia, open up the bloody door or I’ll get the master key and do it for you,” Eliza threatened.

“Lize.” Jane came up behind her sister and comfortingly laid a hand her shoulder. “Let me.”

Eliza stepped to the side, avoiding the lavish foliage offering the villa privacy, and with a sweep of her hand said to her sister, “Have at it. You may have more luck than me.”

Jane lifted her delicate fist to the door and was about to knock when it abruptly swung open, and Lydia stood there looking radiant and exceptionally pleased with herself.

“Why sisters,” she began almost regally. “How good of you to visit us on our honeymoon. Did you catch the announcement in The Times? I’m sure it was scheduled for today’s edition, or maybe it’s tomorrow?”

Lydia over-exaggeratedly placed her pointer finger to her lips in thought. “Oh, I forgot. I didn’t announce it. Which begs the question, why are you here?”

“Oh, Lydia,” Jane began sadly, but it was Eliza who stepped forward and met Lydia’s challenging gaze.

“You know what,” Eliza said tiredly, suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue. “I’m not sure why we’re here. It all seems a little futile and a lot ridiculous.”

She took another step forward until she was close enough to kiss her youngest sister on the cheek.

“Congratulations, little Lydia. I wish you well in your life and your new marriage, but I’m done.”

Eliza took a step back, and unable to keep the sadness from her eyes or halt the single tear that slipped down her cheek, added, “You’ve finally got your wish, Lydia. We’ve chased you half-way around the world. You got my attention, but now it’s time for you to deal with the fallout. Your dividends from TBG were frozen the second you commandeered the company jet.”

Lydia opened her mouth to complain, and Eliza stopped her with an outstretched hand.

“You’re hardly a pauper, Lydia. You have your allowance to fall back on, but as soon as your childish games threatened the financial security of the company, the board agreed it was time to cut you off.”

Lydia’s mouth opened and closed like a fish on land gasping for air, and her hands bunched at her sides. She looked like she was torn between screaming or possibly throwing a punch.

Eliza took one last look at her youngest sister, turned on her heel, and slowly walked back to Pemberley’s car.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” Pembs muttered loudly, gaining everyone’s attention bar Eliza’s. “A smackdown, some hair pulling and a little bitch slapping was, I felt, a given. Eliza finally washing her hands of the little Bennet trollop, nope, I didn’t see that coming.”

Just as Pemberley was about to walk away and congratulate her friend on a punishment well-played, Wick Austen filled the doorway and looked out at the uninvited guests.

“Bing, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his gaze flying from one person to another and settling on his brother before comically snapping back towards Pemberley.

“Jesus Christ, you’re Pemberley Gardiner.”

“I came to stop you from making a huge mistake,” Bing replied simply, ignoring Wick’s star struck performance and letting his eyes pass over Lydia and then back to Wick. “But it seems we are too late.”

Bing stepped forward, took his younger brother’s hand in his and shook it.

“Congratulations Wick. I’ll let you explain everything to mother and father in your own time, and I wanted to say I’m upset with you—” Bing’s eyes found Jane and then came back to rest on his brother’s face “—but I can’t because you’ve inadvertently been the catalyst for the best two days of my life.”

Wick looked completely perplexed by Bing’s words, even as his brother took Jane’s hand in his and pulled her to his side to offer comfort.

“So that’s it?” Lydia demanded, taking a step forward and aiming her glare on Jane because Eliza—her true target—had disappeared after dropping her bomb. “I get married, and you allow Eliza to ostracise me? What a gentle, loving and caring sister you turned out to be. I bet you couldn’t wait to see me tossed aside like yesterday’s trash.”

“Don’t talk to your sister like that,” Bing interrupted, shaking his head sadly while tightening his hold on Jane. “I’ve only known her for two days, and I know she’s not capable of those things, so as her sister you should know better and treat her better.”

Lydia’s eyes turned feral, and she stepped forward and sneered, “That’s right, you’ve known her two days. Good luck trying to get her to drop her knickers for you if that’s your angle. You’ll have to put a ring on it for that.”

“Like Wick did to get into yours,” a masculine voice interrupted from behind Bing and Jane, and all eyes turned to look at the newcomer.

Darcy looked a little rough around the edges and had a definite slur to his words, but his eyes were bright and focused on the newlyweds, and a broad smile filled his face.

“You got your wish, little brother,” Darcy acknowledged with a nod towards Lydia. “Let’s hope whatever genie bottle you rubbed to find yourself wed to the female version of you, has a refund and return policy. Or else, you’re completely and utterly fucked.”