Page 87 of A Certain Appeal
“Wickham?” I repeat—the name-drop is totally random to me.
“Because that’s who Meryton went to!” says Jane. “He’sthe goddamnnephew.”
The news cuts across my gut like a blade. “What?How did we not know that?”
“There’s so much more to this, Ben. He has Ginn.”
“What?”
“He has Ginn under contract.”
The air rushes out of my lungs. Wickham’s stolen the venue. Now Ginn, too? I’m about to askhowbut instead say, “Tonic?”
“Nope. Just Ginn.”
“They’re inseparable!”
“Not anymore.”
They lethimcome between them? “How binding is this contract?”
“I don’t know, but, Bennet, that’s not the worst of it. Did—” He takes in a long breath. “Did you show Wickham your Meryton designs?”
A chill slithers up my spine. Darcy’s hand goes to my knee. “No. Wh-why?” The word leaves me slowly, churning awkwardly on my tongue. The cold spreads, the ghost of old trauma curling around my rib cage. “Jane.” I struggle for calm. “Why are you asking?”
Darcy’s grip on my knee tightens. Jane sighs, and I know what’scoming, even though I don’t know how it’s possible. I look at my palm, the fine white scar from the sandstone, and the familiar sensation of falling washes over me. It’s happened again.
“Some wires got crossed in the email chain and Charles was forwarded pages of Wickham’s proposal.” Jane’s voice is heavy with apology. “His concept? The big idea he used to get his uncle to hand it all off to him? It’s one ofyours.”
My mouth opens but I don’t know how to form the words. I catch bits and pieces as Jane describes elements from an older series of my drawings, one I abandoned to better realize at Pemberley. But his words are drowned out by the screaming in my head.It’s happened again. It’s fucking happened again.
I’m shaking. Every muscle in my body is rigid as I struggle against the onslaught of old hurts and the pain of this fresh betrayal. I trusted Wickham. I told him what happened in LA, and he used it as a blueprint to undermine the deal. To undermineme.
No, not just me. This time, I’m not falling alone. He’s stolen more than ideas. He’s stolen my second home. By coming between Ginn and Tonic, he’s tearing apart my second family. He’s potentially screwing over the people and place I value over almost anything, and he’s using my work to make it happen.
“NO.” It comes out of me so sharply, Darcy flinches. “He doesn’t get to do this. This isn’t happening again. Meryton isours.
“Could he be at Ginn’s, you think?” I shove myself from the bed, scanning the room for the dress Darcy peeled from me. Was that really only a few hours ago? How can last night even exist on the same plane as the past five minutes?
I spot a hint of green by the window and beeline for it. “Do you know her address? Does Ming?” I pluck the dress from the floor,unearthing with it the wreckage of condom wrappers. “I swear to God, if he thinks—”
I turn to find Darcy in front of me. His dark eyes fix me to the spot, his concern so plain, my words catch, only to release as a strangled sob.
It’s happened again.Logic threatens to derail my anger. My eyes well. What am I doing? Charging after the guy? Then what? Jane said the deal is done. Wickham has Meryton.
When my hold gave way in LA, it took days for me to hit the ground. The descent was gradual, the rumors and lies taking their time as I realized the floor was coming up to greet me. This is more like my actual fall: quick and unforgiving. Even the ache in my ribs feels the same. It revives the crushing ugliness that chased me from the other side of the country. Every brutal memory, every dirty look aimed at me in the days before I left. That I was nothing. The feelings pile on.
I let the dress slip from my fingers. It’s over.
Darcy gestures for the phone. I raise it, Jane’s worried voice carrying on in the space between us. “Jane?” His eyes stay on mine. “Hi, yeah. She’ll call you back later. When Charles finishes with his lawyer, tell him to call me?”
Tears press against the backs of my eyes, and my mouth feels thick with the impending breakdown. Darcy places a hand on my cheek. I lean into it, covering his hand with mine, but I can’t speak.
Darcy says it for me. “Wickham.” The two syllables drip with venom, reminding me of their shared past.
“Did you know he was involved?” I ask.
“Not until the night at Meryton, when we danced.” He takes the phone from my hand and tosses it onto the couch. “That’s when Ilinked him to the owner. He’s an uncle through marriage, so I wasn’t sure about the connection until I checked. It’s why I left so suddenly.”
