Page 95 of Arranged To Be Mine

Darcy: Got home safe. Thank you again for tonight. Your family is wonderful.

Me: They liked you too. Thank you for coming. Hope you’ll be my plus-one again soon.

Darcy: Got any more movie stars in the family tree? I’ll bring my autograph book.

Me: Sorry. Fresh out. Go to sleep. Text me tomorrow.

I set the phone down and stared at the dark water.

Did I want to make this real? Yeah. Without question. But the harder thing was whether she did. I wasn’t going to push her toward something she wasn’t ready for just because I’d figured out my own feelings ahead of schedule.

When it’s right, you just know.

I just needed her to know it too.

30

DARCY

The morning of the launch, I woke up before my alarm. My eyes snapped open at four-thirty, and sleep became impossible after that. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, running through my speech in my head, visualizing every moment of the day ahead.

By six, I’d given up on rest entirely and was standing in my closet, second-guessing every outfit choice I’d made the night before. I wasn’t sure I liked this new wardrobe crisis. Before that press conference from hell, I was very confident in whatever I chose to wear. My closet kicked ass.

It was only lately I realized it kicked too much ass. I needed to tone it down. Note to self, call Cleo for a shopping spree. I’d turn my spare bedroom into another closet because I needed new stuff. Sexy, soft, and sultry. That was what I needed.

I finally settled on black Armani silk pants, a white silk blouse, and a pale pink blazer. I never wore pink. I had bought it on a whim and it had been sitting in my closet for a year. Professional and feminine. Confident but also approachable. Everything the new collection represented.

By the time I arrived at the flagship store, my nerves had reached a fever pitch. The space had been transformed overnight. Display cases gleamed under carefully positioned lights. Specialty lighting showcased pieces from the Fall in Love collection. The centerpiece was a rotating display of the signature engagement ring, which honestly, damn. It was a brilliant-cut diamond surrounded by smaller stones in a setting that managed to look both timeless and modern.

My design. My vision. My neck on the line.

People were everywhere. The PR team coordinated with photographers. The marketing director reviewed the social media strategy with her assistant. Store managers from our other locations had flown in for the event. Caterers set up champagne stations. A string quartet tuned their instruments in the corner.

And everyone kept asking me questions.

“Ms. Corwin, should the media check-in table be by the entrance or further inside?”

“Ms. Corwin, the florist wants to know if you want the arrangements moved closer to the main display.”

“Ms. Corwin, there’s a conflict with two influencers who apparently have some kind of feud. Should we seat them on opposite sides of the room?”

I answered each question as best I could, trying to project the calm confidence expected of someone about to become CEO. Inside, my stomach churned and the sheen of perspiration hidden by my designer outfit was no joke.

The preorder numbers had been good. Better than good, actually. We’d exceeded projections by fifteen percent, which had made the board very happy. But preorders were one thing. Today’s launch would show us the real picture. Would people actually buy the rings? Would the collection resonate with customers beyond the initial buzz?

If it succeeded, the CEO position was mine. Dad had practically said as much at our last meeting. One more win, and I’d finally have everything I’d worked for.

If it failed? I couldn’t think about that.

I found a quiet corner near the back office and pulled out my speech. The index cards were going to disintegrate from how many times I’d handled them. I’d written the speech myself, revised it dozens of times, and practiced it until I could recite it in my sleep.

But I needed to go through it again. Just one more time. Maybe two. I couldn’t have another teleprompter fail. Pretty sure I was still traumatized from that incident. In the grand scheme of things, it hadn’t been a total disaster.

It had brought me Beau. But I wasn’t trying to repeat that mistake.

“Ms. Corwin?”

I looked up to find one of the event coordinators hovering nearby, tablet in hand.