The reaction pulls me from my stupor. The word tumbled out of me, but his visceral reaction has jogged my memory. That night at the Work It event.

I take a step forward, chin high. “Charles’s friendship. Pemberley. It’s all wasted on you.”

His jaw goes tight. “Say it again.”

With pleasure. I move another step closer. Close enough to feel the anger rolling off of him. Close enough to touch him. My eyes drop to his lips. Close enough to . . . “It’s. A. Waste.”

His lips go tight. I watch them draw together, tension quaking in his jaw, and my ego swells at the successful hit. But at the same time, I ache to smooth the strain away. I want to touch him, pull him to me, run my tongue along the seam of his mouth and feel it soften and give against mine. It’s dizzying.

The charge between us crackles. It pulls us toward one another, but everything said and done repels us with almost equal force. I meet his eyes again, and his look burns. He feels it, too.

“So this is your opinion of me?” he says, the words coated with bitterness.

We are so, so close. His focus lands on my lips. My face is on fire.

“Forgive me, then,” he says, eyes still low on my face. “For wasting so much of your time.”

He swipes his phone from the table, pausing only to yank his jacket from the back of his chair. Then he shoulders through the crowd I didn’t realize has packed the bar. The eyes of other patrons weigh on me as I watch him go, the back of his head visible over a flock of women at the door before it disappears for good. I grip the table.

It’s over.

CHAPTER

18

I settle against the wall in the stairwell, just below the top step. Ming’s doing her red number, the same arrangement she wore the first time Charles and Darcy came by. God willing, she won’t kill anyone with that damn shimmy belt.

Barely half my attention is on the performance. I’ve been distracted all day. I haven’t told Jane what happened yesterday. What’s the point? If Darcy was able to persuade Charles that Jane wasn’t interested, how invested could Charles have been?

As much as I know I should be fixating on Darcy’s interference, I keep going back to our final moments together. The heat and intensity of those last few seconds still make me light-headed.

No matter how badly I want her.

I shake it off, taking a second to scan the room. It’s a full house. The crowd has a good energy, though I pray the two rowdy bachelorette parties are prepared to call it after this, because holy hell are they shattered.

Even the bar—

My blood flashes cold, then hot.

Darcy?