President Darcy

“I was going to say ‘shit-faced.’” Bing grinned.

Of course, his chief of staff was concerned. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good, but that’s not my biggest concern. What triggered it? I haven’t seen you that lit since college.”

When Darcy hesitated, Bing glanced across the room at Fitz, who had just returned with a cup of coffee. His cousin shrugged. “Don’t look at me. One minute he was fine, watching some talking heads on ZNN. The next he was diving into the bottle of bourbon.”

Darcy shoved both hands through his unruly hair, not caring about the pain when his fingers caught on snags. “I’ll be fine.”

“What was he watching?” Bing asked Fitz.

“Give it a rest,” Darcy snarled at them.

Fitz ignored him. “Wiley Montrose and crew were discussing ‘what is wrong with the president?’”

“They’ve done that a thousand times.” Bing waved this away. “Why was this different?”

Fitz crossed his arms over his chest. “Greg Parese suggested that the president just needed to get laid. That’s when the bourbon came out.”

“Well…shit,” Bing said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Darcy snapped. “Where’s the coffee?”

“Why does that bother you so much?” Bing watched him with narrowed eyes.

“You are not my shrink,” Darcy ground out, staring at the opposite wall.

“I think the isolation is getting to him,” Fitz said to Bing.

Bing nodded as he rubbed his chin. “I’

m surprised it took this long.”

“Do you think we should hire someone for him?” Fitz asked.

Darcy flew out of bed, sending covers flying. “What the fuck?” he asked Fitz.

Fitz smirked at Bing. “Well, that got a reaction.”

Shooting a glare at Fitz, Darcy went to collect the coffee on his dresser. His cousin knew him too damn well. The coffee was still hot, and the first sip was ambrosia.

“Does this have something to do with Elizabeth?” Fitz asked him.

“Elizabeth?” Bing’s eyebrows drew together.

“Bennet,” Darcy added.

“Jane’s sister? What does she have to do with Wiley Montrose?”

“She has more to do with the getting laid part,” Fitz drawled.

“What!”

I should explain everything to Bing, Darcy told himself, but just the thought exhausted him. “It’s complicated,” he said, closing his eyes as he massaged tight neck muscles.

“Darcy tried to kiss her on Air Force One, and she didn’t like it,” Fitz said.

“Well, maybe it’s not that complicated,” Darcy conceded.