Beautifully Forgotten (18 page)

She turned her head from him to hide her smile because she was one of those minions willing to do absolutely anything for this man. “Nothing.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I won’t get sick in your car.”

He touched her chin and turned her face to his. “That’s not why I asked. I don’t give a shit about the car.”

“I’ve seen your car. You’re lying.”

He said nothing, but the look he was giving her made her blood boil. Clearly she was hallucinating. She was probably facedown in her bathroom dreaming this entire evening. The dream was very realistic; the sound of Lucien’s car purring like a large wild cat reverberated down the street seconds before the sleek black car came to a stop in front of them.

“Sixty-nine Charger, right?” Darcy asked.

She didn’t miss the flash of pride in his eyes before he said, “Sixty-eight.”

“I imagine it costs a pretty penny to have this car in the city since I’m sure you don’t street-park her.”

He flashed her a smile. “Worth every penny.”

Lucien reached for the door and helped Darcy in, going so far as to buckle her into her seat before coming around and folding himself into the driver’s side. A moment later they were cruising down the street. She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. In her imagination, they were on a date and were on their way home to make love. The idea of it was so raw that Darcy felt lust sear her nerve endings. She must have made a sound because Lucien asked her what she was thinking.

She answered without thought: “About you.”

When she realized what she’d said, she wanted to throw herself out of the moving car. What was wrong with her? It was for this reason that one should avoid drinking alcohol in excess. He was silent for the rest of the ride—he was probably afraid she was going to throw herself at him as soon as he helped her from the car.

She didn’t, though. Tempting as the idea was, she kept her hands and her thoughts to herself. They reached her apartment building just off of Times Square and despite her sour mood, she was happy to be home. She loved it here: the crowds, the lights, and the general chaos. It was what had attracted her to this section of the city; it was hard to feel lonely when there was so much around you. They climbed the stairs to the third floor. When they reached her apartment door, he seemed in almost a hurry to be free of her. If he were in such a rush, then why the hell had he driven her home? She felt the anger again, but tried to bank it because, regardless of what motivated him, he had seen her home safely. She unlocked her door and stepped inside. Lucien made no move to follow her in.

“Are you going to be okay?” Even his voice sounded strained. She felt the tears and hated herself for them.

“I’m fine. Thanks for the ride home.”

He silently studied her, his hands moving into the pockets of his trousers. She couldn’t read him, but she guessed he was trying to determine the shortest amount of time he needed to stay without looking rude. She was about to put him out of his misery when he reached for the door.

“See you tomorrow.”

He closed the door before she even had time to answer, the click of the door latch echoing like a gun blast in her quiet apartment. She leaned up against it and let the tears fall for being so fucking foolish when it came to Lucien.

D
arcy wasn’t sure how she managed to avoid Lucien for the next week. She hadn’t asked him to interfere that night with Kevin, but he’d done so anyway, and now she suspected that he was avoiding her.

When he’d forwarded her an invitation to a function that she was to attend, her first thought was that he was asking her to go with him, but then sanity returned and she assumed she was to go in his place. She learned neither was true when she checked his calendar and saw he had the event penciled in. It was like a double slap in the face and because of it, she decided to take the rest of the day off and go shopping. She needed a dress, and even better, he wasn’t there to tell her she couldn’t. Childish, yes, but she wasn’t above it. She might even buy dinner and charge it back to him, because if he had a problem with that he’d be forced to suck it up and talk to her. She was smiling as she shut down her computer.

The annual restaurateur guild gala was a huge event every year and was the perfect opportunity for Darcy to meet the vendors that she was working with on a daily basis. Lucien had been tempted to ask Darcy to come with him, but things between them had been off ever since that night a week ago when he’d driven her home, so he’d asked one of his countless lady friends. He always prided himself on being an even-tempered person, but ever since Darcy had returned, he’d been acting like a complete lunatic.

He could be honest with himself and acknowledge that he was acting like a mental patient because despite everything that had happened between them, he still wanted Darcy as wildly as he had when they were teenagers. But being a contrary son of a bitch, every time he entertained the idea of going down that road with her again, his self-preservation kicked in to remind him of how callously she had walked away from everything they had planned.

He was just getting a drink for his date when he lifted his head and almost dropped the glass of wine he was holding. His heart took off in a gallop. Darcy. She was a vision in white, the flowing dress hinting at the small but toned body under it. She looked ethereal: like an angel who had just fallen from the heavens. She was exquisite.

And then his eyes landed on the man who’d followed her in. He was interrupted from spearing the man with his glare when his date stepped up next to him.

“Lucien?” His jaw clenched, but he pulled his attention from Darcy and turned to his date.

To his surprise, his voice didn’t betray what he was really feeling: jealousy so severe it twisted his gut. “Let’s go find a corner.”

It was like she was in one of those nightmares where she was standing in the middle of the school cafeteria naked. In reality, no one was staring at her. She wasn’t getting pointed at while people whispered behind their hands, but hell if it didn’t feel that way. Darcy unconsciously ran her palms down the sides of her dress while she attempted to calm her wildly beating heart. She had never before been to an event like this. Sookie’s had been successful, but it was a small family-run business. The people in this room ran 95 percent of the restaurants in the city—she had done a bit of research to prepare.

Despite her nerves, she took a minute to admire the room with its cloth-covered tables and exquisite place settings accented with huge fresh flower arrangements. The people in the room were dressed in labels she had only ever seen in magazines. She felt terrified and excited all at once.

“Want a drink?”

She turned to her date: Kevin. She enjoyed Kevin’s company and as luck would have it, he also happened to own the Smoothie Hut—a chain of them, apparently—and was coming to the event anyway. It was childish but she was glad it was Kevin who was her date, what with how well he and Lucien had hit it off. It was a small dig, but a very gratifying one. Maybe his sea-green eyes didn’t send her body into chaos with a look, but he definitely had potential. He was nice, funny, and sexy with his unruly chestnut-brown hair.

“Wine, please,” she said.

“I’ll be right back.”

She scanned the room for Lucien because she was hoping to get him to make the introductions, but she spotted him in a corner with his date and business seemed to be the last thing on his mind.

A table was set up with name tags, which was an enormous help, so she crossed the room and retrieved both hers and Kevin’s. He returned with their drinks just as she spotted a vendor she had spoken to the other day, so she squared her shoulders and walked over to introduce herself.

“You did that very well. Have you spoken to everyone you were hoping to?” Kevin asked an hour later.

“I think so. It wasn’t so bad after the first introduction.” She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for being my wingman.”

“My pleasure.” He looked at her empty glass. “Dinner is going to start in a minute. Would you like another glass of wine?”

“Yes, please.”

He hesitated for a moment before he brushed his lips over her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

She watched him go, and her heart beat just a little bit faster.

“You’re certainly making your way through the male population.”

And then her heart stopped altogether before it lurched into a rapid rhythm. She turned to Lucien as his words settled over her and anger came to the fore. “As someone once so eloquently stated, my personal life is none of your damn business.”

Her words had the desired effect as Lucien’s eyes went dark with anger before he turned without another word and walked away. She wasn’t sure what it said about her that she actually derived pleasure from that. And then she worked to put Lucien out of her mind before her date returned. But all through dinner she stewed. Not only had he not introduced her to
his
vendors, but he implied she was being a slut because she made the contacts on her own. She was so angry she finally sought him out. His date was draped over him like a fucking poncho. He eyed her coolly, and she was just as cold when she asked, “Can we talk?”

He removed his date easily and beckoned Darcy to a quiet corner.

“Yes?”

“Are you calling me a whore because I’m reaching out to the people you asked me to reach out to? Was this not why you asked me here tonight?”

She saw guilt flash in his eyes, but she was fucking done with his bullshit.

“I made a mistake almost half my life ago. I thought we were over this, but clearly you aren’t, so let me offer you some advice: fucking get over it,” she said.

“Maybe I can’t.”

“Then I’ll quit, because I’ve put myself through enough regret and guilt over what happened and I let you get your digs in because I owed you that. But I’m not going to pay penance for the rest of my life for a decision I made when I was a scared kid. Fucking grow up, Lucien, because you’re the one in the wrong now, but you are old enough to know better.”

And then she turned with a sweep of white and walked away with her head held high.

Lucien paced his office, but his guilt just weighed him down. He couldn’t believe he’d actually implied that Darcy was a whore last night. What the fuck? Maybe he had a brain tumor, but he knew that wasn’t true. He’d only started acting like a complete douche the day Darcy came back into his life. He knew what provoked him, and as much as he’d like to say it was his anger or his need for self-preservation, it wasn’t either. He was fucking jealous—so jealous of any man that touched her—so of course being the mature adult that he was, he called her a whore.