Hey ! Here comes the other half of the Netherfield night. Thank you so much for reading this story. Hope you enjoy it, and as always, I love to hear from you.


That was it. Will had spent the better part of the night watching her dance with a large variety of men, including that Collins buffoon, a drink in his hand, loud music screaming in his ears and a not-subte-at-all Caroline on-and-off by his side, attempting desperately to make him dance with her. Not going to happen. He had told himself he was not jealous. No. He had just imagined countless ways of torturing said men because this was a little habit of his when he was in a night club. With a woman as incredibly attractive as Elizabeth Bennet. Really, anybody would do the same. He grunted. Enough. Caroline was still talking to him, more screaming over the music really, leaning much too close to him, when he put his drink on the table in front of him and stood up. Screw her. Eyes locked on his target, he walked straight towards Lizzie on the dance floor.

A song was ending, a new, slower one was beginning. Lizzie stopped, a little breathless from all this dancing. She was having a wonderful night. Maybe she should rest a little, she had been on the dance floor for what felt like hours. Could be, really. And she was thirsty. She was about to take a step towards their table when she saw him coming forward. Even in the dimness, there was no mistaking his confident, animal gait. He was looking straight at her. She was paralysed. People around him seemed to part like the Red Sea. Was there even a light following him ? Girls couldn't take their eyes off that incredible specimen of a man, ready to hate the woman he was heading so decisively to. He kept walking until he almost collided with her, stopping mere inches from her. His arms took possession of her waist. His cheek brushed her hair and his lips stopped at her ear.

- Dance with me.

It was a demand, not a question. Lizzie's head was furious, yet her body was shivering. As if answering him, her hands slid up his forearms to his neck, burning his skin everywhere she touched him. Her touch was so soft and delicate. His blood was boiling. He started leading her to the music with agonising slowness. Even though they were on this crowded dance floor, with music roaring around them, it felt too intimate. Through the fabric of her dress, which felt thinner than before, her skin was on fire were his hands were resting. His hard body contrasted with her soft one in the most appealing way. They were moving smoothly to the music, in perfect coordination. She had slow danced with a lot of boys since her teenage years, never had it been that fluent. And pleasant. The experience usually varied from nice to painfully awkward. And the partners were kept at arms length. This, on the other hand, felt wonderful. And God, he smelled so good. Their movements were slow but she could feel the tension growing quickly. It was already too much. The only way she could imagine getting the pressure down was by being hit in the head by a brick. Few chances it was going to happen in the near future. Maybe conversation would help.

- Why do you do this ?

He bend his head down, and her eyes met his intense ocean-during-a-storm blue ones. Her breath caught. Nope, not helping.

- Dancing ? he arched a brow. We're in a night club, remember ? His deep voice reverberated through her.

She narrowed her delicious eyes. Not a single muscle of his handsome face moved, yet his gaze sparkled. She smiled.

- That's what I mean. You pretend not to be funny.

- Why do you ask that ?

She shrugged. Her brain had turned into a useless soup, she didn't even remember asking him anything.

- Making conversation, getting to know you.

Safe answer, she surprised herself for thinking of it. He watched her for a few more seconds, then levelled his gaze in front of him when he answered.

- So I don't attract unwanted attention.

His arrogant mask was on again. Anger started boiling in her. The asshole was strong in this one.

- Oh yes, the very great difficulty of being rich, talented and impossibly handsome, she teased.

Was he waiting for her to pity him ? He could wait a long time then. Like for ever. He looked down at her again. Damn, those eyes…

- You have no idea, he said, deadpan.

That dry sense of humour again. She couldn't help it, she laughed. There seemed to be so many sides to his personality, she was puzzled.

- I wish you wouldn't do that, he added, his expression yet changed again.

- Do what ? Laugh ? she asked, forever confused.

They were spinning around the dance floor, yet his behaviour stunned her more than their movements. She had never realised how sensual his lips were. Her attention was so focused on that luscious part of his body, she almost missed the sound coming from them.

- Try and get to know me.

- Ah. Unwanted attention. I get it, her tone was crisp.

If only you knew how I crave your attention. His eyes were holding hers. So intense, it was a wonder her legs were still moving. He might need to cary her through the end of the song in his bulk arms. Not that she would mind. She was already holding on to his shoulders like her life depended on it. And their bodies were practically glued together. What a wonderful feeling. Fuck, did she just sigh ? If he started talking sweet words to her right know, she would just melt.

- I'm the one paying attention to you now. I asked you do dance.

What the hell ? It seemed he was back on full jerk mode. Did he expect some kind of grateful reaction from her ? She was not going to thank him.

- The same way you asked me to play with you guys, she retorted with an arched smile.

Touché. He was silent for a moment, intently looking at her. God, was this habit of taking his time to answer while judging people annoying. If only there was something about that guy that wasn't irritating. That stunning sexy smile came slowly back to his lips. As a strange result, all her bones turned liquid.

- Impossibly handsome, ugh ?

Thanks to the penumbra, he didn't see her blush. Fuck, he picked it up. How could she have let it slip ? Easy : her ability to think and talk were seriously damaged right now. As usual when he was close around. And he was really close right now. Like, really really close. Come on brain, reboot and plug in again. Please. And all the drinks she had had didn't help, she supposed. Oh, fuck it. After all, that shouldn't be a surprise for him. He could see his reflection in a mirror every morning, couldn't he ?

- That's what 90% of the female population would say, I suppose, she shrugged. And probably 40% of the male one. Though, I'm less sure of the data for the latter group. The statistics are long overdue, she tried to cloud the issue.

Thank you for being back with us, brain. Now, stop babbling.

He chuckled, his staggering shoulders moving in rhythm with his deep laughter. Those crests around his eyes were so yummy. As was the way his mouth stretched. He was really unspeakably gorgeous when he smiled. She was not sure she still knew how to breathe.

- Only 90% ?

He smirked. She sighed. This was ridiculous.

- Who are the 10% left? Lesbians ? he asked, as serious as if questioning some scientific facts.

His eyes were laughing. The bastard was enjoying himself.

- Liars. Lesbians find you delicious too, she heard herself replying.

Oh please, don't let me drool. He laughed again, a deep rumbling sound that warmed her from the inside. One of his eyebrows levitated, mimicking the movement of the corner of his mouth.

- Delicious ?

Double fuck. His grip around her waist tightened, crashing her against him. She could feel the heat radiating from his very male body. It was exquisite. Her breathing was uneven, her heart was hammering so hard in her chest, he could surely hear it. Her mind was wandering in highly inappropriate territory, somewhere underneath his clothes. Her hands itched to explore his skin. She bet it was soft. The next step was explosion. Or self-ignition. What was happening exactly ? Easy answer : her treacherous body was betraying her. This was the guy who ruined Wickham's career, and shit-talked Jane, she couldn't feel this way. She was supposed to hate him. Was she so shallow as to forget everything when a good looking face showed up ? Truth be told, there were his arms too, so muscular. And his well-shaped rear, what a curve. And his shoulder span, incredible. All of him actually. Was it her fault if he was the sum of every hot-blooded woman's fantasies ? Yet still, he was a dickhead. She needed to focus on that. She had moral convictions for Christ's sake ! So no, she would not nuzzle in his neck to sniff his exquisite manly smell, and her hands wouldn't comb his hair. Was it as soft as it looked ? No squeezing his bottom either. Licking the skin that looked so smooth behind his ear was also out of the question. Plus, he was kind of her boss, that was inappropriate behaviour. Ha, inappropriate, that word again, that's exactly what this guy was. On so many levels.

One dance, that was all he was going to indulge in. As a reward, for going through this evening without murdering anyone. That was a big achievement. But, if he was going to oblige himself, he was going to do it well. That should be enough to kill this little infatuation of his. That's what he thought. It was a miscalculation. If anything, it enhanced it. Her body melted perfectly against his, soft, warm. And she kept looking at him with those stunning golden eyes. And she was funny. And absolutely beautiful. Let's not think about that dress. His will power only prevented his hands from wandering away from her back to explore the rest of her body. They so wanted to get lost in her hair. He wanted more. He wanted all. He was quite sure she would not object if he dragged her right now to some dark corner. Her skin was practically screaming his name. Not that he usually did that. He had never done that, actually. Remember, public place, a lot of people, some recognised you. Behave. Sometimes, behaving sucked. Thankfully, he had had enough sense to react when she told him she wanted to know him better. That was danger zone. Physical attraction was one thing, but opening to her was something else entirely. If she knew him, really knew him, then he knew he couldn't go back. She would destroy him from the inside. He was already coming apart. He would be lost. And she was a tech. Inappropriate.

The opportunity was too beautiful to pass. Richard took a seat next to Caroline whose eyes were throwing daggers at the dance floor, following Will and Lizzie's every movement. He leaned in and screamed in her ear :

- They do make a cute couple, don't they ?

Slowly, she turned her head to him, jaw tightened, arms crossed and said nothing. Richard dissolved into peals of laughter that died in the thunder of the music. He was still laughing when he reached the bar to order another drink. Really, it seemed like Will was holding a « Not interested » neon sign above his head aimed at Caroline. That was a serious kick in the teeth. Richard almost felt bad for her. In fact, no he didn't, he hated her. He smiled as he took a mouthful of his drink, his eyes drifting to the other dancers. That's when he saw them. Charlotte and that guy from De Bourgh Records, the Bennet cousin. What was his name again ? Bill Collins ? Whatever. They were dancing and talking. And she was laughing at something he had said. Richard's mirth vanished. His throat constricted so much, he made an effort to swallow his drink. Karma was a quick bitch. The song ended, the couple under his gaze stopped close enough for him to hear Collins' last words in the newfound silence.

- … and I could help you with your career you know, through my connections at De Bourgh Records, if you see what I mean.

He actually winked at Charlotte, who smiled. Richard was utterly disgusted. He quickly ordered a drink and headed to Charlotte. He needed to put an end to this discussion. Wordlessly, Richard handed her the glass, she smiled her thanks, while Richard's glare at Collins was so poisonous even he understood it was time for retreat.

- Why were you dancing with him ? Richard asked, his feelings well hidden behind his usual nonchalance.

Sometimes, he wished he could be more of a hothead.

- He asked, Charlotte shrugged and took a sip of her drink.

Aaahhh mojito, delicious.

- Are you going to take him up on his offer ?

Why not stab himself in the heart ? It saved anyone else the trouble of doing so. Now, he blessed his detached tone, it was covering really well what was happening underneath. The wound that was opening inside. Another song was starting, loudness poured again into the overheated night club. Charlotte took a step closer to speak in his ear.

- Are you seriously asking me if I mean to sleep my way through success ? she asked him in a flat tone, much deprived of the anger she felt.

He recognised this indifference he himself displayed as a defence. His mouth remained shut as he realised he had just insulted her.

- Isn't that what I'm already doing ? her glass was touching her lips again, her eyes on the dancers in front of her.

He froze. Was it ? That's what was between them ? How could he get over that, if that was true ? No, it wasn't. He knew Charlotte, she wouldn't do that. Not to him. Would she ? Doubt was tearing open the already existing laceration in his heart. There was blood on the dance floor. His.

- It hurts, doesn't it ? she added matter-of-factly, after taking a sip of her cocktail, her gaze still fixed on some point in front of her.

Relieved, he blew out the breath he was holding.

- If this cocktail was less pricey, I would throw it in your face, she continued in the same tone.

He shrugged.

- I'm the one who paid for it, so suit yourself, he answered, not really sure what she would do.

He waited a few seconds, she was motionless, her face inscrutable. Gently, he took the glass out of her hand, better store the possible weapon away, and put it on a nearby table. He kept her hand in his, and lead her to the dance floor. In the middle of the crowd, he laced her arms around his neck and slid his hands to the small of her back.

- Are you going to punch him ? Charlotte asked with a serious mien.

Richard's eyes wondered where Collins was. His erratic body movements were creating a void assuring the nearby dancers' safety. The man looked like he was summoning a demon. Or a horde of, judging by the passion he was putting in his jig. Maybe he had caught that dance fever Will and Lizzie talked about the other day. Richard turned his gaze back to his partner.

- Only if you want me to.

She looked at him with that impenetrable expression for a moment, then stepped closer to him.

Charles and Jane were literally joined by the hip for the rest of the night. Beautiful as she was, Jane attracted no other man that evening. Rather, no other man was foolish enough to approach her. Though Charles looked by no means possessive, the potential dance partner would have had a hard time untangling them. Girls, on the other hand, had no such qualms. A handful of them asked Darcy to dance. Eyelashes batted, heads tilted, drinks were offered. All were refused, but Lizzie did admire their bravery. As handsome as he was, Darcy still looked quite unapproachable. His mien was as grave as ever. He was not satisfied with his evening. Not that he had planned to be, anyway. Dancing with Lizzie had been a mistake. When one of the twins, he could never tell them apart, declared with a throaty laugh that she had misplaced her panties, he decided to call it a night.