Page 94 of A Certain Appeal
The heat coming from him is sudden, but I am more than happy to accommodate the shift. I pick up the pages from my lap, depositing them on the other side of the cushion.
“Speaking as a designer...” I point to the window across from us. The evidence of last night’s romp had been wiped clean by the time I got back to the room, and the window is an almost unbroken pane of sunset orange. “The view could use a little...je ne sais quoi, no?”
“Hmm.” He sounds convincingly thoughtful as his fingers close on my knee. “I’d hate for your designerly sensibilities to be offended.”
I’m still laughing when he springs on me, rolling me to my back.
Darcy smooths his hand under my dress, up my thigh, over my hip—then cocks his head, shifting his hand back down again. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
“ ‘No bra, no panties,’ ” I quote. His eyes dart to my neckline, and I finger the bare space between the buttons at my chest. “It’s your fantasy. Not your office, but I thought we could improvise.”
He reaches to remove his glasses, and I catch his hand.
“No,” I say. “Keep ’em on.”
CHAPTER
25
Tuesday evening, after dinner with Chloe and Gales, I stand on the catwalk at Pemberley, head pitched back as I take in the empty room. Even in the partial darkness, the space is a dreamscape.
The house lights come up gradually as Darcy hits the switches upstairs, bringing the room to life one feature at a time. I see each element as rendered in my sketches, like an animation cel has been placed over reality. The lake: tiled. Barn wood: gone, possibly burned in some ceremonial cleansing. The existing chrome balanced with gold accents.
Soon, I promise myself. Once we get everything situated with Meryton, I’ll talk to Darcy about this. Maybe sneak in one night and rip down the barn wood myself.
The last two days have passed in a blur. Charles and Andrea have already looked at two potential properties and have another viewinglined up for tomorrow. There’s still a chance, however slim, that something could come from the IP angle, that Fitz and his team could uncover a means to get Meryton back to Charles and Andrea. I haven’t even raised the subject with Darcy since Sunday. But then, with our respective work schedules limiting our time together, we’ve been prioritizingnonverbal exchanges.
I hear Darcy’s footsteps behind me. “Did you get what you needed?” I ask, and turn to face him. My stomach flips over. He’s carrying the green messenger bag Jane put my design work in Sunday.
Darcy stops short at my reaction, his eyes soft with apology as he gestures to the nearest island. I sigh but step onto it, taking a seat in a round booth. He slides in beside me and places the bag on the table, pulling out a manila folder. Brightly colored tabs protrude from the top and sides, as though the contents have been sorted and labeled. “Sunday, you said it was too raw to look through these. But would it be okay now?”
In answer, I open the file. But my bravado ends there. The first page is a version of the design scheme Wickham stole, as rendered at Pemberley. My chest constricts, and two days of positive momentum can’t restrain the reprimand that bounces in my skull:so, so stupid.
Darcy puts his hand on my back, and I lean into his touch. “This is the one he has, but at Meryton?”
“Yes. I don’t know how I didn’t miss those drawings. Maybe because I’d already moved the idea to Pemberley?” With a pang, I realize it’s the one I started the night I met Darcy, with the dark matte arc behind the stage.
“One of several set here.” He puts the page aside to reveal another Pemberley sketch, then another. My stomach riots. Jane said he’d swept everything from my desk into that bag, but in the general chaosof the day, I failed to consider what thateverythingmight entail. Of course the Pemberley work would be there: I spent Saturday morning finalizing the plan inspired by the Eastern Columbia Building. And now Darcy’s seen the depth of my obsession with his family’s property.Goody.
I avoid eye contact, feeling uncomfortably exposed as the plans are arranged on the table. There are four concepts, most iterations of ideas started at Meryton, though the one with the Eastern’s color scheme is its own. Seeing them laid out gives me a bittersweet swell of pride, despite my embarrassment. This is the best work I’ve done.
“Tell me about this one.” Darcy picks up the page of turquoise and blues. My heart leaps.
I can’t help smiling. “Do you know the Eastern Columbia Building?”
“In... downtown LA. Huh.” He looks over the page again, dropping his arm from me to pull the supporting illustrations toward him. “A college friend of mine has a place in there. What made you think of it for Pemberley?”
“Chloe jogged my memory the other day. I visited her in LA when I was an undergrad. She took me on a tour of the Historic Core and saved the Eastern for last. It was...” Sudden emotion swells in my throat. “Like the first time I saw Ming perform.Inspiring.It’s why I went to design school. That’s what made the internship so important,” I say, running my fingers over the sketch. “It felt like it was meant to be, going back to within walking distance of the building that got me hooked on design in the first place. When everything fell apart, it felt a lot less like fate and more like cruel irony.” I let out a mirthless laugh. “Kind of like now.”
Darcy doesn’t say anything.
I close my eyes and force out the truth I’ve been trying to avoid since I saw that bag in Darcy’s hands. “We’re not getting Meryton back, are we? Your uncle...”
“It’s not hopeless, Bennet,” he says, too softly for the words to feel believable. “If you’re willing to wait, they can pursue this. And you could get a ruling in your favor. But”—he pauses—“there’s no guarantee.”
My eyes burn, and I wrinkle my nose, hoping to keep the tears at bay. I didn’t realize I was hanging on to that sliver of hope. Letting go, it’s like picking sandstone from my palm all over again.
“Which is why we’re here now.” Darcy rests a hand on the Eastern design. “I’ve been fielding proposals for Pemberley for months. This is better than anything I’ve seen from any design firm. This...” His eyes drift over the page. “This is genius.”
