Darcy in Hollywood

On the other hand, standing next to any of those women would embody Hollywood glamour. Wasn’t that the point?

He couldn’t help musing how fun it would be to take Elizabeth to one of those events. She wouldn’t crane her neck in search of people who might advance her career or talk nonstop about who she had lunch with.

Actually, it sounded…restful. He could imagine her curves enhanced by an evening gown. What color would she wear? Purple? Blue? No doubt it would be something unexpected. Maybe they wouldn’t look like the perfect Hollywood power couple, but…

“Will, you still there?” Roy prompted.

With an effort, he pulled himself from his Elizabeth-fueled fantasy. “Yeah, sorry. None of those women are really doing it for me.”

“There’s Caroline Bingley.”

No doubt her manager had made overtures to Roy. Darcy gr

imaced at the phone. “Only in an emergency.”

“Okay.” Roy sighed. “Give me an hour, and I’ll get you the names of some other eligible women.”

“Can’t I just go by myself?” He unbuttoned his shirt as he talked. It was Eric Thorne’s shirt, and consequently tighter than what Darcy usually wore. What a relief to remove it.

“Will, your brand is the desirable, attractive heartthrob. We want you to look like you’re playing the field—in a discreet and tasteful way. Going stag to a prominent industry event does not scream ‘every woman in the world wants me!’ It’s bad enough that you haven’t dated anyone since you broke up with Abigail six months ago. Soon I’m going to be hearing rumors that you’re gay.”

When Darcy had recovered from his coughing fit, he reminded Roy, “I don’t want to plunge right into another relationship.” How many times had he said that?

“Here’s the deal: I don’t care about your emotional state, but eventually you will need a girlfriend—or the appearance of one. It hasn’t been that long since Palm Springs. We can give it a couple more months, but being in a stable relationship is key to rehabilitating your image. It’s part of your new brand.”

Darcy suppressed a groan. Most of the time he could bear Hollywood marketing jargon as a necessary evil, but he hated thinking of himself as a brand. He was a person, damn it, not an oven cleaner or deodorant.

“If you don’t find someone, I will,” Roy said finally.

Sighing, Darcy ran a hand through his hair. The last thing he needed was his manager selecting his next girlfriend. God knows who Roy thought would suit.

“I’m not ready to worry about a girlfriend. Let’s just focus on the premiere,” Darcy said.

“Will, your brand—”

“Screw the brand, Roy!” he growled. “This is my life.”

“Okay, okay. But the premiere is in three days. I’ll find someone—”

The thought of going with someone of Roy’s choosing made Darcy’s skin crawl. “I’ll find someone on my own.”

“Will, I don’t think—”

With another growl, Darcy disconnected the call and threw the phone across the trailer where it landed on the sofa. It was just a stupid premiere. It didn’t matter. He should pick one of the three pre-selected women and be done with it. The managers would work out the details; the women would know the drill. It would be simple.

Why did the thought turn his stomach?

Maybe it was because he couldn’t erase the image of Elizabeth on the red carpet. Would her gown be clingy? Frilly? Plunging neckline? Long train? Sequins? And imagining her legs in high heels…

His body reacted enthusiastically to that idea.

“Why the hell can’t I invite her?” he asked the empty trailer. “I’m William Fucking Darcy. That’s got to count for something.” Sure, showing up with a no-name woman who was merely “pretty” wouldn’t advance his career, but it wouldn’t hurt it either. Not much anyway.

He could take her to the premiere, show her a good time, spend the night with her, and get her out of his system. He’d make all her fantasies come true, give her the night of her life, and put this stupid obsession behind him. Why not? As long as he made it clear to her that it was just one night…

A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that he didn’t usually enjoy one-night stands. He had tried the casual sex routine back when he’d first made a name for himself in Hollywood, but it had left him feeling empty and unsatisfied.

This was different, he argued with the invisible objector. This wasn’t a hookup with a random stranger; it was a night of friends with benefits. He’d have to ensure that Elizabeth didn’t make too much of it, though. She couldn’t imagine she was in love with him or think this was the start of some long-term relationship.