Even the carpet doesn't fully mute her footsteps when she walks up the familiar hallway to Darcy's office door. It's almost midnight, way too late for anyone to be in the building. But Lizzy knows there's a higher chance of her husband being in his office than at home, thanks to the sight of his car sitting solo in the best spot in the whole carpark area.
A grunt and a sniff greet her the moment she slips inside the spacious office. Lizzy pauses halfway to his desk.
Head braced on top of his forearms, the CEO and majority owner of Pemberley Inc. snores on his desk. His jacket lies folded on the back of his swivel chair. His shirt, impeccably ironed this morning, is now creased all over, especially the parts that have been folded up his arms. His monitor is off, whether from neglect or deliberate choice, she doesn't know.
Falling asleep at the office is what unpaid interns do. It's what freshmen employees desperate to prove their worth do. It's not something for people who have every right to tell anyone else in the whole building to do their will.
She knows the only reason he's still here is for her, and her heart aches inside her when she finally reaches him. Why did she have to reject him all those years ago? It's true that, even with the benefit of hindsight, his proposal had been atrocious at best. It had been arrogant and selfish. Asking a girl to marry him just to be a trophy wife who stays home and looks pretty, all for his gratification, was the kind of thing that guys on the losing side of a love triangle do. Heroes don't say that. Heroes don't undermine people's dreams or expect women to bend to their will. That's the kind of role the other guy plays.
But the other guy also doesn't do everything Darcy does for their marriage without ever asking for a single thing in return. The other guy doesn't say 'I trust you' as often as her husband does. The other guy doesn't cook his fake wife her favorite breakfast, rescue her from her impossible family, carry her to bed and respectfully stay away, or stay up in the office to wait for her.
Of course, she would never have offered to marry him if she hadn't at least forgiven him a long time ago.
But the way things are now - she's scared that she's actually falling in love with him, if she hasn't already.
Her right hand reaches for the back of his head. She leans down as her thumb strokes the side of his neck. "Hey."
He flinches and grunts again before waking up. He looks a little confused and disoriented. It takes a beat for him to blink through his haze and smile at her. "Hey, are you done?"
She smiles. It's hard not to. Her hand hovers near his jaw, her fingertips still twirled in the tips of his hair.
"You waited up," she says.
"I didn't want you to have to catch an Uber back. At this hour of night - "
"You know I'm an adult, right?"
He does a small, almost half-hearted shrug. "But you're also my wife. I think I just might have the tiniest right to fuss."
Her smile grows. Without thinking, she leans forward and kisses his brow. She pulls back, ready to say some other quip or something - but she stops short at the look in his eyes.
Away from family and friends, away from other colleagues, away from the pressures of the board and the press, he looks almost endearingly ordinary. His gaze traces her features, making her feel simultaneously exposed and adored.
"Lizzy," he whispers.
And suddenly, their lips are pressed against each other and her body pulled onto his lap. It's not the first time she's kissed him, but something is different tonight. The depth and breadth of each kiss, the synchronized arc of their bodies - every sliver of her skin comes alive from his touch. Her hands wander down his shoulders and chest while his trace the length of her back. She sighs, he hums, she whimpers, and their kisses bleed from one to the next, to the next. She shifts her angle without a second thought, letting her skirt ride up to her hips as she moves to straddle her husband.
And suddenly, he pulls away.
They pant, their arms still loosely latched around each other. She's still seated on his left knee, his swivel chair creaking under their combined weight.
"Maybe." He huffs, his chest rising and falling under his fingers. "Maybe we should go."
Lizzy takes another moment to recover. Then she nods and slides off back to her own two feet. Darcy struggles a bit to stand up, as if his mind is in as much of a haze as hers is. They take their time to compose themselves before he reaches for his jacket and car keys.
She waits for him to pack up everything before slipping out the office just ahead of him.
She knows he wants her. That much was obvious tonight. She also knows that something is inexplicably holding him back - though she doesn't really know exactly what it is. She makes her plan as they slip into the elevator, where he takes her hand and gives it a little squeeze before letting go again.
It's his birthday next week, and she'll give him until then to make a move. If he doesn't, then she will have to - even if it requires her to actually use some of her supposed honeymoon lingerie.
What do you get someone who has everything in the world he could ever want?
Lizzy slips into Darcy's office on his birthday five minutes after ten, when she is absolutely sure he is caught up with meeting the investors. It's a double celebration sort of day. It's Darcy's birthday - the day that the powers-that-be deigned to bestow one of the handsomest, most loyal, and most genuinely thoughtful people on the earth. It's also the day when Darcy, Pemberley Inc.'s CEO, gets to assure his investors that he, not George Wickham, has controlling interest over the company - and that the company will continue to prosper under his care.
Lizzy taps the edge of the large desk with the token in her hand. It's not much, by way of a birthday present. A token that imitates the one from Inception isn't exactly anything genius. But it's not like she can get him a signed T-shirt from Christopher Nolan. At least, she doesn't think she can.
She checks her watch, making sure that she has plenty of time before Darcy is done. She's already done her bit as head of media and communications. They won't miss her now.
After a quick moment's thought, she tugs at the main drawer. Of course it's locked. She tries to find somewhere cool on the surface, but everything is covered in work - and she doesn't want to mess up whatever organization Darcy might have over his stuff. Important documents have been lost for less.
Her phone beeps, notifying her that the meeting is done, and Lizzy tugs at the first drawer she can reach. She considers how to pose the gift on top of the file - until she realizes she recognizes that file.
The gift slips off her fingers and onto the swivel chair. Her fingers tremble slightly as she lifts the prenup out of the drawer. She flips through the pages, scanning for some sort of indication that the file has been verified or certified or whatever fancy word that can mean it counts.
She doesn't find it.
She tries again, and again. She doesn't find anything in the entire document that shows any sort of proof. The prenup that's supposed to ground their pretend marriage exactly where it belongs is a sham.
What does that even mean?
"I can explain," Darcy says. Lizzy looks up from the papers in her hand to see a frazzled birthday boy looking more nervous than he did in front of hundreds of investors.
She frowns. "I requested a prenup."
"And we made one."
"But you never handed it in."
He takes a deep, visible breath. "No, I didn't."
"Why not? Why even pretend to go through this if you - "
"I know you're not a gold digger." He takes a single step closer. "And to know the sacrifice you're already making - "
"Again, with the sacrifice!" She tosses the useless draft of a prenup on his desk. The papers scatter. "The one thing that was allowing me to keep my dignity intact was the knowledge that I have legal paperwork proving that I didn't marry you for your money - and now you've taken that away from me too."
"It's our money. It's your money. If you do intend to walk away from this one day, you can have every last cent I own, and it wouldn't matter."
"What do you even mean? Of course it matters!"
"Not in light of how things would be, no."
"Again, I don't even know what you're saying."
He sighs and takes another deep breath. Then he takes three powerful strides until he's right in front of her, with only the open drawer between them.
His voice comes out deep, powerful, and even a bit hurt. "What I'm saying, Elizabeth Bennet Darcy, is that I've liked you since high school and have probably never stopped. And if comes the day that we dissolve this marriage, losing half my net worth is going to be nothing compared to losing all of my heart."
She swallows. "You like me?"
"Maybe?" He shrugs. "I - I - " He steps back and throws his head back against the wall. "Maybe I like you. Maybe I love you. Does it really matter much at this point?"
Lizzy manages to keep the tears at bay just until she's run out the door.
A/N: And there's the fight.
As for those who find this unrealistic, I agree with you. Nothing about this story makes sense, lol. But that's what fanfiction is for!