All Eliza seemed to do was work, sleep, and eat when she had time.

With Jane loved up and in the early throws of desire with her Bing, Eliza was at a loss. It had been only four weeks since Lydia’s shotgun wedding and Jane meeting Bing, but they were now inseparable and Eliza was happy for them, she was, but she was also lonely.

She didn’t have friends, except for Pemberley and Jane, and without both, she realised how isolated her life was.

Pemberley had begged her to take some time off and accompany her on her current worldwide tour for some light-hearted romance movie the world was going gaga over. But Eliza couldn’t just up and leave.

She had the board breathing down her neck and still watching her every move, and she had numerous deals at various stages that needed her input. She was ridiculously busy, with hardly a free minute to take a breather, yet she’d never felt so lonely or adrift.

She didn’t even have Lydia’s dramas to worry about since her sister’s cold shoulder had turned into a full-blown shut-out.

“Eliza,” George’s voice came through the intercom on her desk. “You might want to look out of your window. Security have received complaints about a problem.”

Eliza pressed the button to reply, her gaze never straying from the documents before her. “George, I’m twenty floors up. I’m not sure there’s anything happening outside that could be a problem to me. Tell them to deal with it.”

“Just listen to me for once, would you?” the ornery old broad complained. “Get up, walk to your window and look outside.”

Eliza huffed, walked over to her panoramic windows and looked down to the street below.

The TBG’s building had a large, paved frontage that lead out onto the pavement, but Eliza couldn’t see where the walkway ended and the road began. All she could see was a sea of people wearing white.

It was odd, not only because there must have been a few hundred people down there, but even from up here she could see they all seemed to look up at her, with their heads tilted up to the sky. Then, in one synchronised move, the people began to move and ripple, and some of the white turned to black. Eliza blinked because she swore the black spelt something…

Sorry.

Eliza blinked again. The word sorry seemed to float above the bodies swarming the street below. Then as one, they moved again.

I’m A.

Blink. Another flutter of movement.

Complete.

Eliza squinted and pushed her face closer to the glass unable to work out how these people were making words out of thin air.

Arsehole.

Eliza snorted. She was twenty floors up and imagining random people wearing white spelling out profanities. She’d been working too hard.

The crowd of strangers shuffled and rippled again.

Drink?

Eliza shook her head and laughed. Only one person could be responsible for this spectacle.

“I owe you a drink and an apology,” a deep male voice stated from behind her and Eliza pivoted on her heels to face the unexpected visitor.

Darcy stood before her with two glasses and a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice.

“You didn’t get your drink off me the other week,” he offered, lifting his peace offering. The movement had the glasses clinking together and echoing around the silent room. “So, I thought I’d go one better and bring you a meal to go with your drink.”

He stood to the side, gave a low whistle, and within seconds a full array of food was ushered into the room by silver service wait staff with ornate serving trolleys. Another small group brought plates, silverware and candles, and then the ten or so people began to set up a feast on her conference table.

“Who let you in?” Eliza asked, unable to form a more coherent thought.

“The lovely Georgiana,” Darcy replied with a grin. “She made me beg first of course.”

“Made you beg? If you’re calling her Georgiana, she made you do more than beg.”

Darcy winked. “I’ll never disclose my secret methods.”

Eliza had never seen this man so playful and she almost, almost wanted to fall for the charming version before her but she wouldn’t. His words the other month hadn’t just stung they’d burnt her, marked her, and scarred her. What happened with Collins was, she’d hoped, ancient history, so to have it thrown in her face in such a way blindsided her completely.

“You need to leave,” she stated coldly. “I enjoyed your pavement trickery outside, and yes, you’re an arsehole, but I’m not doing this with you.”

Darcy’s eyes locked on hers and he gave a brief nod.

“I wasn’t expecting this to make amends for my wrongs, and I didn’t expect to share this—” he motioned to the spread before them and the servers now leaving “—with you, but I’d hoped you’d share it with them.”

Darcy stepped to the side, and Bing and Jane entered the room.

“Surprise!” Jane exclaimed joyfully, one hand in Bing’s, the other waving around like a solitary ‘jazz hand’.

“You set all this up?” Eliza asked with a genuine smile, having missed her sister’s company. With quick steps, she walked up to her sister and embraced her tightly.

“Oh, no. This was all Darcy. We’re just piggybacking his gesture because we have some news to share with you both,” Jane added shyly, looking up to Bing for support.

“News?”

Jane blushed and deferred to Bing with a tilt of her head.

“We’re getting married,” Bing Austen said proudly, his eyes finding Jane’s and filling with adoration.

Eliza Bennet stared blankly at her sister and the man wrapping his arms around her. Another Austen brother had come in and swooped one of her sisters off their feet. Okay, so it didn’t work quite that way with Lydia, and she was the instigator of that debacle, but Bing had woven his spell over Jane and Eliza couldn’t find it in herself to hate him for it because Jane was the happiest she’d ever seen her.

“Wow. Uh, okay. This is all a little… sudden, isn’t it? Why the rush?”

Eliza didn’t miss the way Jane’s smile fell slightly. She wished she could be more excited for her sister and enthusiastically offer congratulations, but she was worried.

Jane didn’t rush into affairs of the heart. Jane didn’t spontaneously act and forget about consequences.

Bing tenderly kissed the side of Jane’s head, a move Eliza understood as a tangible declaration of his love and support and Jane closed her eyes to savour the touch. When she opened them, and smiled at Eliza, she said simply, “We both know the frailty of life. It’s precious, and it can be cut short. True happiness is rare, so why deprive yourself of it just to watch the clock or give yourself what others deem are suitable time limits.” Jane looked up at Bing and joy radiated from her smile. “We’re done watching the clock. We’d rather ignore the days, hours and months, live in the minute, and love every second.”

Eliza smiled then. A true, genuine, happy smile for her sister and the man she loved. A tear fell unbidden down her cheek and as Eliza dashed it away, her eyes searched for Darcy. She’d been so caught up in Bing and Jane’s shock announcement that she’d forgotten the man whose epic gesture saw her office filled with a feast.

Her eyes found the doorway, but he wasn’t there. Instead, a beautiful floral arrangement had been left in the entryway.

Jane’s eyes followed Eliza’s gaze, and she released Bing long enough to collect the flowers.

“Oh, these are beautiful,” she said, setting them down on the edge of the table. “And there’s a card. It’s for you, Eliza.”

Jane plucked the card from the flowers and handed it over to her sister.

Eliza knew who they were from before she even opened the small embossed envelope with her name written across it in a masculine script, but she wanted to see what he had to say.

With deft fingers, she pulled out a small card that simply read: I called you a princess before I knew you, when in fact you are a queen.

He’d signed off with: Sorry, I’m an arsehole.

Eliza laughed, she couldn’t help it, and when Jane looked at her perplexed, she handed her the card and said, “I have to go and find myself an arsehole.”

Bing chuckled and gave her a knowing smile, but Jane still looked confused even after reading the card.

“She means Darcy,” Bing supplied, as Eliza stepped forward and kissed first Jane and then her husband to be.

“I’m happy for you both, I promise. There are no two people on this earth more suited as a couple than you.”

With one last hug, Eliza released the couple and walked towards the door. Bing called out to her just before she crossed the threshold and said, “Give him hell, he likes it.”

“He deserves it,” Eliza retorted through a broad smile.

Eliza caught up with Darcy outside the TBG building. She’d had George call security to look for him on their cameras and found him outside handing a stuffed envelope to one of the few people still milling around wearing an oversized white t-shirt and carrying a large black piece of card. He shook the woman’s hand, and she smiled up at him brightly, her body language telling the man before her she appreciated the view.

Darcy Austen was undoubtedly a very attractive man. After Pemberley had called him a ‘taller even more attractive Jon Snow’, Eliza had Googled the name and had to agree. Darcy Austen could be this Jon Snow’s older, broader, more distinguished brother. She still didn’t get the ‘kiss me down there’ reference, though.

She watched as the woman lingered before him, and waited until he thanked her once more and turned to walk away.

“Arsehole,” Eliza called out, uncaring of using a profanity outside her prestigious offices. Darcy didn’t stop so this time she yelled it.

“Hey, arsehole, I’m talking to you.”

Darcy’s feet faltered, and he came to an abrupt stop. The man walking up behind him crashed into his back and muttered a curse which Darcy ignored.

Eliza waited. She hoped he’d turn around and look for her, but if he didn’t, she would run after him. Something about Jane’s words and watching time tick by struck a chord in Eliza. She didn’t know if this man could be more than a friendly acquaintance, but something was telling her to find out.

Darcy turned to face her, his eyes finding hers through the throng of people walking around them on the pavement.

He stared at her for what felt like an age, but was likely a few seconds, no readable emotions on his face, and then with purposeful strides he cut through the crowd like a hot knife through butter.

When he was less than an arm’s length away, he stated simply, “You called.” But Eliza could see the hope flickering briefly through his gaze as he searched her face.

“I don’t want to marry you,” she stated with a straight face. “Just because my sisters like the taste of wedding cake, doesn’t mean I will follow suit.”

Darcy’s lips twitched, but he let her continue.

“And I don’t want to go into business with you.”

“Then what do you want?” he asked, his mouth curving in delight at the forthright woman before him.

“A kiss and a drink would be a good start,” she declared boldly.

“In which order?”

Eliza didn’t answer.

She preferred show and tell.

She took the step forward and into his arms, lifted her head, and without hesitation took his lips with hers.

It wasn’t a sweet brush of lips. It wasn’t a tentative hello. It was a full-blown movie-esque kiss of epic proportions, right there on the street with people milling around them all oblivious to the fact that Eliza’s world had shifted on its axis with just one kiss.

She pulled back and looked at him through heavy eyelids.

“Now you owe me a drink.”

“And then?”

“Then you can show me how you worship a queen.”

* * *

“Love, what are you doing?” Wick asked, the cuffs on his wrists biting into his flesh as he wiggled on the bed.

Lydia licked lower.

“We need to get to the office,” he groaned. “Smith is coming in today to go over our plans for expansion.”

“I know,” she cooed, her talented mouth nipping and sucking and biting.

“Then release me so I can get dressed. We’ve already had our fun this morning.”

Lydia placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his erection, and Wick bucked his hips, a low moan leaving his throat.

Then she stood, rearranged her pencil skirt and walked over to the full-length mirror to check her make up.

“Lydia,” Wick warned. “Give me the keys. You’ve had your fun.”

Lydia reapplied her siren red lipstick, smacked her lips together and then turned to her husband with a perfect pout.

“I’ll be back a little later, love.” She looked down at his bobbing member. “If that’s still hard when I get back I promise to put it to good use.”

She bent down to grab her bag, and slowly rose, giving Wick an eyeful of her perfectly round rear.

“Lydia, this is not fucking funny. I set up that meeting with Smith, he’s expecting me.”

“I’ll send him your regards, love,” she offered with a feline smile before sashaying to the doorway. “Oh, and next time, don’t go behind my back making deals with my company. This—” she motioned to his naked and spread-eagle body “—is a reminder that I own you husband, not the other way around.”

And then she was gone with a parting wink and a saucily blown kiss.

Wick groaned and thrashed for a full thirty minutes, yelling at his wife to release him, but he knew she was already gone.

The woman was going to be the death of him—literally.

Wick looked down at his still aroused body and said in a rasp, his voice hoarse from all the shouting, “But what a way to go.”