Beautifully Forgotten (7 page)

“Let me call you back.”

He stopped just in front of her desk.

“Darcy.”

“Mr. Black.” She just couldn’t bring herself to say his name. Did she have the right to be so informal with him anymore? He didn’t correct her. She had often thought about what he would say to her if they were to ever meet again. Clearly, their first meeting he’d chosen to stay silent about their shared history, but she wondered if he would continue to do so. Her body leaned forward a bit on its own as she waited in anticipation. Maybe he’d welcome her and mean it, or say, why the fuck did you break my heart, you bitch? But she didn’t get any of that; instead he looked through her and then he disappeared into his office.

His anger she could handle, but she hadn’t prepared herself for indifference. She reminded herself that she had made her bed, and tried to put the look on his face out of her mind as she busied herself with work.

Lucien paced in his office—concentrating was impossible with Darcy MacBride sitting outside his door. She’d blossomed, surpassing the beauty of her youth. He had half a mind to seduce her so he could rid himself of her ghost, because—damn, if she wasn’t always in the back of his mind. She shouldn’t be—it was so long ago—but she lingered like the scent of a favorite perfume.

How could he be just as captivated by her as he had been when they were teenagers? She had lured him in once, but she wouldn’t be doing it again. He had learned that lesson the hard way. He needed to make sure the boundaries were firmly established. He probably shouldn’t have hired her, but the truth was that he wanted her close almost as much as he wanted to push her away—probably more so.

“Darcy, a minute.”

She entered the room and immediately the air felt like it was being sucked from it. His temper stirred.

“Working hours are eight thirty to five. I do not tolerate tardiness, Ms. MacBride.” He let that comment linger in the air, a subtle dig to her that he hadn’t forgotten that she was late fourteen years ago.

“If you have questions, ask them in a clear and concise manner. I have no tolerance for babbling. It is your responsibility to run this office. I won’t be pleased if I need a binder and am unable to locate one. There is alcohol on the premises, but if you indulge in it during working hours you’ll be terminated immediately. Personal calls are made on your own time, not during working hours. My calendar is to be maintained perfectly on all of my devices, and I will require both your home and cell numbers because my job is not just a nine-to-five and I may need to get in touch with you.”

He stopped pacing and turned to her. “Any questions?”

“No.”

“You’re dismissed.”

She left as meekly as she’d entered, without a single comment. The Darcy he knew, the one he at times still ached for, would have flayed a layer of skin from him. Maybe she wasn’t the same girl she had been, which would make his life much less complicated.

Darcy returned to her desk as her blood boiled. She gave herself a few minutes to envision the voodoo doll she was going to make of Lucien. Picturing stabbing him repeatedly put a smile on her face. Maybe riches had gone to his head. If so, it would make her life much less complicated.

That night after work, Darcy sat at a table in Allegro nursing a glass of wine and listening to a band with a very mellow sound. Lucien was mingling and chatting nearby. The room was dark enough that he wouldn’t know she was staring, so she looked, really looked, at the man the boy she had loved had grown into. He was taller, but not much, since he had already been over six feet at sixteen. Definitely more muscles, particularly in the chest and arms. She remembered his body at seventeen; she couldn’t get enough of that body. She’d tasted every inch of him, knew every muscle, every hard line. They had only had five weeks of loving before it all fell apart, but they didn’t waste that time. They had sex two, sometimes three, times a day, thanks to the intensity of young love and a lack of the cynicism that comes when you get older and learn the hard way that not everything is possible.

Through the years, she often thought about how things would have been had she met him under that tree.

Would he be where he was now if she had left with him? Would he have lacked the drive to have accomplished all the incredible things that he had if he had had someone who loved him at his side? Would he have been content with a simpler life? And would it have mattered? In her heart she always believed that had they stayed together, regardless of where they ended up, they would have been happy.

But reality had shattered their fairy tale: the prince had staggered off into the sunset and the princess had stayed in her tower—no happily-ever-after for either of them.

Every morning for a week, Darcy arrived at work with the hopes that that day would be the day the old Lucien would appear and would say more to her than her name: his form of greeting in the morning. And every day she was disappointed. It hurt that he wasn’t even curious enough about her to ask how she’d been for the past fourteen years. She was tempted to walk into his office and bridge the gap herself, but to do that she would need to tell him everything that had happened after he left. She’d have to share her painful secret.

To relive that pain, when he seemed perfectly content with the distance between them, was not something she was prepared to do. Despite the harshness of her current reality, it didn’t keep her from having dreams where Lucien pined for her as she had for him.

After work she decided to treat herself to dinner at a restaurant she’d heard Tara talking about. It was a small Italian place and the line to get in was ridiculous, but because she was eating alone, they found a spot for her in a dark corner. She was feasting on the best chicken marsala she had ever tasted when she heard a bit of a commotion coming from the entrance and looked up to see Lucien. He wasn’t alone. Did she know he was coming here tonight? She mentally went through his calendar and no, there was nothing scheduled for this evening.

The woman he was with was—of course—gorgeous and knew it too. Her body had curves in all the right places and her curly brown hair hung halfway down her back. Lucien had changed into a black suit with a mist-green shirt and tie. She understood why people looked—the pair was stunning: the kind of elegant beauty rarely seen in real life.

She turned her eyes down. Watching him was too painful—a nasty reality check, but one she really needed. When she looked at Lucien she saw the boy he had been—
that
boy she had a chance with—but he wasn’t that boy anymore. He was so far out of her league it was almost comical that she could still harbor hopes.

Fifteen years earlier . . .

“I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing down here?”

Darcy turned to see Lucien walking down the hill in that way of his. He was only sixteen and yet he moved with such confidence.

“Just thinking.”

“Under your tree, I see,” he said with a smile.

“Yeah, I like this tree. I feel almost at peace here.”

He turned serious before he reached for her hand. “I heard about the other girls teasing you. You aren’t upset about that, are you? They’re just jealous.”

“I know, because for some reason you hang with me and not them.”

“That’s not what I was talking about. They’re jealous because you’re funny and smart.” He moved closer to her and reached for her other hand. “They’re jealous because when you enter a room, I can’t keep my eyes off of you.”

“Afraid I’ll trip and embarrass myself?”

He cradled her cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “Afraid I’ll embarrass myself with trying to get to you before anyone else does. They’re jealous, Darcy, because you are beautiful.”

“Have you had your eye exam lately? I think there might be a problem.”

“Shut up. I’m going to kiss you now.”

“I still won’t be any good.”

He flashed her a grin. “We’ll learn together.”

Before she could speak another word, his lips sealed over hers. He didn’t take the kiss deep—he just brushed his lips lightly over hers—but it was the most amazing kiss ever.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked when he stepped away from her.

Her eyes were not yet open because she was still savoring the tingling her lips were doing. “No, not bad at all.”

“Darcy?”

She opened her eyes to see Lucien looking very serious. “You’re mine,” he said.

“I know.”

“Miss, would you like another glass of wine?”

Darcy looked up at the waiter, a little embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming. “No, thank you. I’ll take the check, please.”

She glanced over at Lucien’s table. He was engaged in quiet conversation with his date, but it was the look of him all grown-up and important . . . Nope, he definitely wasn’t the boy he used to be. She paid her bill, but as she left the restaurant, she was certain she felt Lucien’s stare follow her out.