Darcy stepped back from Austen’s the very next day. He cleared his desk, took what little he needed and informed his father he was to allow Wick to accept Lydia’s deal.

He hadn’t read the terms of the agreement or added any conditions, and he didn’t care whether he got a share of whatever money was left, he was done.

The truth was, he was relieved. He’d wanted out for years, but another part of him still needed to make sure he wasn’t abandoning his family. With Lydia’s money behind them, he was certain the newlyweds could, at the very least, attempt to turn Austen’s around, but if they sank without a trace, he couldn’t find it in him to be bothered.

Wick had got what he wanted, and Lydia, it seemed, had accomplished whatever scheme she’d set out to achieve.

So why did he have a bitter taste in his mouth?

It wasn’t because of Austen’s, nor was it about either of his brothers or his parents.

Darcy felt unsettled and on edge because of the guilt he felt towards Eliza Bennet.

He had no excuse for confronting her. It was none of his business, and he had no right to demand answers to those questions.

The pain that poured from her yesterday had been tangible and landed deep in his gut. She’d gone and compounded it by leaving before he could make right his wrongs, but not until she stripped herself raw in front of everyone, including her ungrateful excuse for a younger sibling.

Hearing Eliza tell of how she’d taken on the role of mother figure to her sisters from the tender age of twelve, painfully cleaved through all his prior judgments of the woman. It ripped through the bubble he placed her in—one he’d forced her into while he fought his attraction to her— and the accompanying explosion still left aftershocks in his bones.

He’d not only misjudged Eliza Bennet, but he’d also underestimated her worth, her loyalty and her love for those she held dear. She was a strong woman not just in the business world, but of morals and heart and he’d accused her of being the opposite. Worst of all he’d done so on the fabricated evidence of a stranger—and a man who he didn’t even like much less trust.

Darcy knew he needed to make amends. He just didn’t know how or if she’d even accept his apology.

“Leaving so soon, brother?”

Wick’s voice came from behind him as he sauntered into Darcy’s office—or Darcy’s old office as it was now.

“You got what you set out to do Wick. You should be proud,” Darcy said without malice, his hands busy emptying his desk drawers, his eyes not on his brother but on the task at hand.

“Is that all you have to say? Aren’t you going to offer me sage words of advice or warnings of my impending doom?”

Darcy looked up at his brother then and took in his cocky grin, self-assured stance, puffed out chest and gleam of victory in his eyes.

“Yes,” Darcy stated coolly, grabbing the small box of belongings he was taking with him. “I have two pieces of advice for you.”

“Pray tell,” Wick encouraged acerbically. “I’m sure I’ll be grateful for whatever words you chose to bestow upon me.”

Darcy lifted the box and propped it under his armpit before grabbing his laptop case with his free hand.

“I’ll make it easy,” he said, walking towards his younger brother who blocked the doorway and was yet to move. “I’ll narrow it down to just one, the most important one.”

Wick stood tall and dared Darcy to impart his counsel, which he didn’t want nor care for. He just wanted to hear Darcy’s parting shot.

Not one to disappoint, Darcy made it a good one.

“Make sure to keep your wife happy. I have a feeling she bores very easily, and you stand to lose more than just your marriage certificate.”

“That’s it?” Wick scoffed. “The mighty, commitment-phobic Darcy Austen wishes to impart marital advice on me. How trite.”

“Oh no, brother you misread me,” Darcy stated, walking close enough to his brother that it forced Wick to move out of the way. “That wasn’t marital advice that was business advice. Your wife owns you and owns the business you deem so precious. One wrong move and you’re dead in the water. You will lose everything.”

He walked past his younger brother and stopped at the corner before the hallway turned right and into the reception area. “Good luck, Wick. I think you’re going to need it.”

“I’m taking your office,” Wick yelled at Darcy’s back.

“It’s all yours brother,” he replied. “Enjoy the view.”

* * *

Bing knew this was crazy.

He’d known Jane a little over two weeks, spent every free hour he could with her this last week, and decided he never wanted to spend another moment apart.

He knew it was crazy.

Bing didn’t do spur of the moment when it came to relationships. He was a calm, steady, go with the flow kind of guy. He wasn’t like Wick. He didn’t up and elope to Vegas with a woman he’d only just met.

But it wasn’t like that with Jane.

He knew her.

His heart knew her.

His body craved her, and his mind called for her.

He didn’t have it bad. He had it good.

So good he was contemplating doing something that for him at least, was slightly bonkers. He just had to figure out the perfect way to do it.

Bing looked up at the marble façade of the jewellery store before him, gripped his newly acquired credit card in his hand and pushed through the front doors.

This wasn’t crazy. This was right.