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Chapter Text

Jane Grey cursed as her mother, Frances, manhandled her chestnut curls.

“Oh, stop your whining,” Frances snapped, snagging the comb on another tangle. “You can’t very well attend the charity banquet looking like you’ve been electrocuted.”

Jane rolled her eyes and pulled away from her mother, putting three long steps between them. “Mum! I can manage my own hair, thanks! And in case you forgot, I am not interested in attending the charity banquet.”

She couldn’t even remember which charity was hosting tonight’s festivities. The dolphin charity? Orphans? Maybe the rabies awareness one. Who could keep track?

“I truly couldn’t care less about your interests on the matter, Jane. You’re going. Case closed.”

Such was Jane’s entire existence, if we’re being honest. Frances was a superbly successful fashion designer based in London and the pressures of upper-echelon living weighed heavily on the backs of Jane and her sisters. There was always a gala, a banquet, an event of utmost importance that required the Grey sisters to be on their best behavior. Embarrassing their mother was not an option. So they would dress in decadent eveningwear, shake hands, kiss cheeks, and dance the nights away with glasses of champagne and dutiful obedience.

Jane was fully aware that she lived a life so many others would die for, but what Jane wanted most in the world was her independence. Even though Jane’s free time was laughably scarce as a first-year medical resident, her mother’s expectations remained paramount, and she continued to find herself in stuffy formal events with stuffy, rich men and their stuffy wives far more often than she would prefer.

“Besides, you’re going to look divine in the dress we picked! Might even land yourself a husband.”

“I don’t need a husband,” Jane scoffed and reached for her cell phone from atop her dresser. She clicked on the text notification. “I need a cocktail,” she muttered.

Susannah: i’m going to look so fucking hot tonight i might get pregnant

Susannah: bitch

Susannah: look at my tits in this dress

Jane laughed and inspected the photo her best friend sent her. Her boobs did look incredible.

Jane: It’s giving Jessica Rabbit 🥵

“ — I told him you’d be in attendance tonight and he’s most intrigued to introduce you.”

It was then that Jane noticed her mother was still rambling and she put down her phone, crossing her arms to look at Frances.

“Introduce me?”

Frances groaned, tilting her head to the ceiling in annoyance. “You weren’t listening to me, as usual.” Jane didn’t argue because her mother was right. Frances moved to unzip the garment bag on Jane’s bed and repeated her earlier commentary. “John Guildford. His son has moved back to England and he wishes to introduce you.” Frances shot a wicked grin to her eldest daughter as she pulled an exquisite evening gown from the bag.

“I already know Stan,” Jane said flatly. “What do you mean ‘moved back to England’? I see him all the time.”

“Christ, Jane, for someone so brilliant, you can be quite dense.” Jane chose to ignore the insult, stepping closer to inspect the gown designed by none other than her delightful mummy. It truly was spectacular. “You do remember Stan has a brother, right? Guildford?”

Jane blinked. “Honestly, I’d forgotten all about Guildford. But now that you mention it, I know for a fact we’ve already met.” Jane’s index finger traced the beaded bustier. “This is incredible, Mother,” she whispered in awe.

“Yes, I know,” Frances quipped smugly. “And yes, you’ve met Guildford but, God, you were probably ten or eleven last time you saw him. He moved to the US to live with his mother shortly after and has mostly been there ever since. According to John, he’ll be training to take over Dudley Enterprises as CEO.”

Jane could not begin to articulate how little she cared about the Dudley family or their lucrative family business. She really didn’t even know what they did – just that it involved real estate.

“Good for him,” she responded with feigning interest.

“I hear he’s quite the looker,” Frances mused with a wry smile. “Must take after his mother!” She laughed loudly at John Dudley’s expense, no doubt, and eyed the evening gown once more. “Wear silver heels tonight. Strappy. I must run now – much to do.”

Her entire body relaxed while Jane watched her mother glide out of her bedroom and to her front door. She loved her mother, naturally, but she was exhausted by her. Frances and her opinions – Frances and her demands. At least Jane didn’t live under her mother’s roof anymore. Her sisters, Katherine and Margaret, still had time to serve.

Sighing, Jane crossed the room to her closet in search of shoes that would satisfy the unsatisfiable Frances Grey.

—

Two hours later, Jane and Susannah meandered through the cluster of sickeningly rich people. They paused to make polite conversations with acquaintances and snagged hors d’oeuvres from cater waiters’ silver trays.

Jane, as usual, was dressed as a runway model. Her long, nude dress clung to her curves and showcased her toned thigh with a large slit up the side. The entire gown was embellished with silver beads and crystals, sparkling like snowflakes under streetlamps. Beneath the bust was a scandalous, triangular cutout that exposed the skin of her ribcage to a point just above her navel. The straps were dainty and crystal-covered as well, almost tickling her shoulders as she moved about the ballroom.

Susannah had whistled and made several crude comments to Jane’s amusement when she exited the town car outside the venue. Frances, however, was not amused by Susannah’s choice of words and shot a warning glare in her direction before leaving them to mingle and brush shoulders with London’s elite.

While they sauntered around, Jane told Susannah about her mother’s plan to introduce her to Guildford Dudley.

“Guildford Dudley? I’ve heard he’s back in England but I haven’t seen him yet. You could probably do worse, if the rumors are true, though.”

“What rumors?” Jane asked, intrigued.

“Well, he’s got a reputation for being a charitable lover,” she answered with a snicker. “I’ve overheard more than one young lady bragging about her time with him.”

Ugh. It was so typical of Frances to all but sell her daughter to the highest bidder, even if said bidder was a womanizing prat.

“Where does one even overhear these things?”

“Bathrooms, Jane. Walk into any bathroom in any major city and there will be girls, giggling and gossiping while they reapply their lip liner.” Susannah looked at Jane like she had no common sense. Perhaps she didn’t, or perhaps she just didn’t get out enough.

“I have no interest in meeting Lord Dudley’s wanker son,” she said after a moment. Susannah snorted at their secret nickname for John Dudley – the pretentious man was mostly harmless, but he carried himself like nobility which annoyed Jane.

“Let’s get a drink,” Susannah suggested.

—

“Thank you so much for coming with me tonight,” Jane said to Susannah while they waited at the bar. “I hate these fucking events.”

“Such language from a lady! What would Frances say?” Susannah teased, nudging her shoulder playfully.

When the bartender returned with their cocktails – vesper martinis – the two women turned around to lean back against the bar casually, watching the party disguised as a charity with scrutiny.

“Well,” Susannah said after several minutes. “I’m not going to find my rich husband if I stand here next to you while you’re looking like that.”

Jane breathed a laugh into her glass. “Like what?”

“Sex personified,” Susannah deadpanned which made Jane laugh louder.

“I literally told you that you look like Jessica Rabbit,” she offered.

“Yeah, well, people don’t want to fuck rabbits, Jane. They want to fuck you.” The best friends giggled childishly at Susannah’s dirty talk.

“You’re an idiot,” Jane said finally. “But if you must prowl through the unconscionable amount of loaded bachelors at this party, I won’t stop you. I’m going to stay here, though. The drinks come fast and I’m less likely to get stuck in a conversation with someone I don’t care about if I stay in one place.”

“I expect to find you good and drunk, preferably freshly-shagged, when I’m done making my rounds.”

“Yes, Susannah, I’ll just pull the first eligible man I find into the coat closet.”

“Oh, grow up. We’re in a hotel.” With that, Susannah kissed Jane’s cheek, winked at her, and sauntered into the crowd to find someone rich and capable of impregnating her.

Jokes aside, Jane knew her best friend was right about Jane needing to get laid. Her unintended stretch of celibacy had been going strong for two months since she broke up with her boyfriend. It’s not that Jane didn’t want sex; it was just impossible to meet new people with her daunting work schedule. Luckily, her trusty vibrator never let her down like so many men had.

Jane tipped the martini glass to her lips, swallowing the last of her beverage, before turning again to catch the bartender’s eyes. “Another, please.” He simply nodded and went to work making her drink. Jane hopped onto a stool and crossed her legs. This was how most of these occasions turned out for her – Jane, bored, passing time with bottomless cocktails.

The bartender returned with two glasses, placing Jane’s martini on a napkin in front of her and a glass of dark liquor in front of the person sitting to her right.

“Thank you,” the person murmured. Jane glanced his way, mortified to find the man already staring very intently at her. Or, more specifically, at the expanse of skin where the slit in her dress showcased her thigh. Jane’s brow shot to a point and she cleared her throat. He didn’t seem startled or embarrassed in the slightest. His eyes trailed lazily up her body before meeting hers.

He was devastatingly handsome, Jane noticed right away. His hair was dark brown with unruly curls that suggested he’d just rolled out of bed and decided at the last second to attend a charity gala. Everything about him was dark, actually. His eyes, his brows, and even the shadows that danced over his face made him appear dangerous – like the villain in a fairytale. Or one of the morally-grey love interests in the novels Jane read.

His lips slanted into the most subtle of smirks, snapping Jane out of her thoughts. She’d stared at him, studied his face, and he sat there and watched, all smug and pompous. Jane could feel her cheeks warm and hoped her makeup and the shit lighting by the bar would hide the blush.

“Do you always stare at strangers’ legs like a predator?” Jane intended for her question to sound bitter, but it came out sounding breathy and curious.

“Do you always stare at strangers’ faces like you’re picturing them in bed?” His response was quick, unwavering.

Scoffing, Jane lifted her glass for something to do with her hands, and retorted, “I was not picturing you in bed. Rest assured.” She sipped her martini, keeping her shoulders square with the bar.

“Pity,” he drawled. “I can picture you in my bed quite easily.”

Jane almost choked on her drink and whipped her head to stare at him with astonishment.

“Wow,” Jane snipped. “You are remarkably inappropriate.”

“But are you intrigued? Shall we find the coat closet?” he whispered with humor dancing in his eyes and Jane wanted to crawl into a hole. So he’d been sitting here long enough to overhear her scandalous conversation with Susannah. Wonderful.

“Inappropriate and an eavesdropper.”

“Don’t forget gawker – if you’re still bothered by the legs thing,” he offered, glancing pointedly to her exposed thigh again.

“That falls under the category of inappropriate.”

“Oh, I’m just a man who appreciates the arts, that’s all.” The infuriating smirk on his lips made Jane’s pulse quicken. She wanted to splash her drink into his face and strip for him. Conflicting emotions.

Jane became aware that they had slowly leaned into each other, speaking so quietly no one else would be able to hear them. It felt uncomfortably intimate and Jane cleared her throat again, flagging the bartender for another refill before she chugged the contents of her glass.

When she didn’t respond to him, he added, “Your friend was right, though. If the personification of sex exists in this room, it’s definitely you.”

Jane narrowed her eyes on him, raising her chin in defiance. “I’m equally fascinated and disgusted by your forwardness.”

“Which do you feel more?” the man asked innocently. “Because I can work with fascination.”

His eyes burned into hers and she suddenly felt uncharacteristically bold.

“Fascination may have a slight lead,” Jane admitted with a sultry smirk. She thanked the bartender as he placed a fresh cocktail in front of her, and sipped her drink calmly.

The stranger watched her; the slight twitch of her throat when she swallowed her martini, the tilt of her glossy lips, the way her fingers brushed her brown curls behind her shoulder.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

“Jane,” she answered easily, to his surprise. “Who are you?” She sized him up.

“Colt,” the man returned. “It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Jane.”

Jane rolled her eyes and laughed into her glass. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Suddenly, Colt stood from his stool and held out a bent arm. Jane appraised him curiously and he said, “Care to join me for a walk?”

She knew she shouldn’t. She knew nothing about this man, save for his oddly equestrian name, and he could be the worst kind of person to be caught cavorting with. Her mother would surely have her issues with that, especially when she was hellbent on introducing her to Guildford fucking Dudley at some point in the evening. This dark, mysterious stranger, Colt, could be a social pariah, someone her mother would detest. Probably a philanderer, prowling around all of London’s black-tie events to find women to bed and dispose of. He certainly couldn’t be as wealthy as the Dudleys. She considered him, eyeing his perfectly tailored Tom Ford tuxedo, and concluded he most definitely had money – but stood firm in her estimation that he wasn’t John Dudley rich. Her mother would be furious if Jane left the life of the party to meander aimlessly with this devilishly good-looking man.

She placed her petite hand into the crook of Colt’s elbow and slid from the barstool. “I’d love to,” she smiled.

—

Colt led Jane through the French doors that opened to the courtyard. They strolled to the center where a giant, ornate water fountain commanded attention. Lights inside the fountain made the water glow a deep emerald green. Colt gestured for Jane to sit on the ledge and took a seat next to her, so close their thighs pressed together.

“So, Colt, are you passionate about this charity’s work?”

He snickered quietly, tilting his head at Jane’s question. “‘This charity?’ Do you even know which charity is hosting?”

Jane laughed easily, shaking her head in answer. “I don’t,” she admitted. “I can’t keep track of them.”

“It’s the British Red Cross,” he whispered. “Perhaps one of the easiest to remember.”

A wide grin spread over Jane’s face against her will. “Right, well, I come to at least thirty of these events each year. They’re all the same. Just another excuse for billionaires to have a dick-measuring contest.”

Colt chuckled, raising his brows at Jane’s direct implication.

“Don’t tell me!” Jane laughed, pointing a finger at Colt’s shoulder. “You’re not one of the dick-measuring billionaires, are you?”

“Not even close,” Colt assured her. “I’m only a dick-measuring billionaire’s son.”

“Ah, then I expect you’ll be one of them soon enough.”

“Do you have a measuring tape handy?” Jane blushed violently at Colt’s provocative question. She was used to being the snarky, bantering half in conversations with men. His wit was disarming and irrefutably attractive.

“Can’t say I do,” Jane shrugged.

A billionaire’s son, he’d said. Jane noted that her earlier assumptions about Colt’s finances were, in fact, incorrect. She wondered how she’d been to so many of these galas and balls and had never met him before tonight.

Jane had spent her entire life smiling and playing nice for Frances at charity balls, fashion weeks, art galleries, film festivals, and yacht shows. Almost everyone she knew, she knew because they were in the same, boring, incestuous circle of wealthy ninnies. Her sisters and her cousins, Edward and Bess, were surprisingly modest given the lifestyle they’d been raised in. Jane was grateful for that – for normalcy in between the fits of couture and politics.

Susannah was Jane’s best friend from primary school. She was one of the few people Jane had found who didn’t give a shit about the exposure and social events Jane’s friendship afforded her. But Susannah still wasn’t in this world – and she was the only friend Jane had outside of it. She’d tried to get along with classmates and colleagues, but when people find out your mother is Frances Grey, a world-renowned fashion designer, the lines tend to blur and it’s hard to trust if the friendship is genuine.

She couldn’t help but wonder if this Colt was going to be a massive disappointment just like every other filthy rich bachelor she’d met in this life. Just like Archer.

And truly, with a social circle so small, how could she not recognize Colt? Jane pondered, contemplating the merits of asking who, exactly, his father is. However, she decided that question would only lead to Colt asking about her parents, and Jane was not interested in talking about her mother with this man who she couldn’t stop picturing naked and sweaty.

Inside the ballroom, the party raged on. The band could be heard clearly from where Jane sat with Colt, and through the dozens of windows, she could see dancing silhouettes. Turning her attention back to her companion left her breathless when his eyes were obviously glued to her body.

“You are quite the gawker,” she chastised teasingly.

“You,” Colt’s voice was gravelly, “are quite impossible not to gawk at.”

Jane’s lips parted and she wet them absentmindedly with a flick of her tongue. Colt’s eyes darkened. His jaw flexed. Jane grabbed onto that bravado she found in herself and decided to hold on tight to it this evening.

Her hips shifted on the concrete fountain so that she could turn into Colt’s body. He mirrored her movement, squaring his shoulders with hers. When Jane only lifted her chin a hair with an impossibly sexy smirk, Colt threw restraint out the window.

In one smooth motion, he lowered his face to hers, brushing their noses before he captured her perfect mouth with his. Jane immediately gasped into the kiss and relaxed her jaw so that Colt could deepen it. His fingers raised to cradle her head while his other hand hooked around her knee, pulling her leg to cross over his lap. The slit in her gown opened further, miles of creamy skin taunting Colt. He ghosted his fingertips over her kneecap and trailed them up, ever so slowly, to tickle the thigh he’d spent so much time drooling over.

Jane was a puddle. She gave all of herself into this wild kiss with this wild stranger. Her palm pressed into his chest and Jane shuddered when she felt the firm muscles he hid beneath his clothing. She wanted to trace the lines of his torso with her tongue.

Colt’s tongue, Jane thought, could trace lines anywhere on her body. She knew he could use it well, just from kissing him.

Panting, they pulled away for a brief moment to catch their breath.

This is typically the part where someone says, “We should stop.” Or perhaps, “We can’t do this.” Then the two canoodlers would separate, nod to each other, and run far and fast in opposite directions.

Colt’s hands reached behind Jane to grope the curve of her ass through her dress. His eyes flitted to the gratuitous cleavage revealed by her gown’s bustier and he actually groaned, returning his heavy stare to Jane’s hazel eyes. “You are so fucking sexy.” He reclaimed her lips and she obliged, moaning in arousal.

In a quick moment of clarity, Jane pulled away and glanced around the dark courtyard. Colt’s mouth quickly moved to her long neck, leaving hot, wet kisses along her skin. “We’re kind of… out in the open,” she suggested, breathing harshly. His fingers tightened on her ass, moving to grasp her hips. Jane got the feeling that he was a bit bossy and assertive in the bedroom, and she wanted to find out immediately.

“Do you have a room here?” Colt asked against her throat.

She shook her head. “No, I – I live in the city.”

He pulled away from her and fucking soared when he heard her unmistakable whimper of protest. “Shall we get a room?” His eyes bore into hers, searching.

Jane didn’t need to think about the reasons why she should or shouldn’t agree to get a room with him. She already knew she was going to do it.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Absolutely.”

His lips twisted slowly into a wicked grin. “Yes,” he agreed before pressing one more soft kiss to Jane’s lips.

He stood, adjusting the waistband of his trousers to hide his growing erection to Jane’s amusement, and offered his elbow again. “You won’t think that’s so funny when I’m inside of you in the next thirty minutes,” he teased.

—

They walked hurriedly back to the French doors of the ballroom. Once inside, Colt leaned to Jane’s ear – the music was loud enough that talking was difficult. “I’m going to the hotel lobby,” he told her. “Grab a drink. I’ll find you at the bar.” She nodded and he kissed the shell of her ear, then used his fingers to tilt her chin before he dropped another kiss on Jane’s mouth.

Jane approached the bar to find Susannah had returned as well.

“Well, there you are, slut,” Susannah greeted. “I saw you at the fountain with that gorgeous, gorgeous man.” Her red brows wagged and she flicked her tongue like a serpent.

“Vesper martini, please,” Jane laughed to the bartender before turning back to Susannah. “God, he’s so rude and so fucking hot,” she told her friend.

“That means he’s going to be excellent to your vagina.”

“That’s the plan,” Jane quipped with a coy smile. She leaned closer so that no one else could hear her and said, “He’s at the concierge desk, as we speak, getting us a room.”

Susannah howled. “You dirty little whore! I fucking love you!” Jane threw her head back in laughter at Susannah’s antics.

The pair sat at the bar, talking about the band and the food while they sipped their respective cocktails. Susannah had moved on to margaritas and Jane knew she was going to be in rare form tonight.

“Did you find Mr. Moneypockets slash future baby daddy?” Jane asked her.

“Moneypockets, yes. Baby daddy, no, considering Moneypockets has D-cup implants and a strap-on in her hotel room,” Susannah grinned while fanning herself. “Speaking of which,” she paused to check the time on her phone. “It’s about time I head up to meet her.” She downed the rest of her drink and turned to leave but stopped in her tracks.

“Why, hello, fountain fondler.”

Jane immediately turned around to find Colt’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Fountain fondler?” he asked Susannah before stepping close enough to rest his hand on Jane’s back.

“I saw you,” Susannah replied. “Fondling. At the fountain.” She batted her lashes and turned back to Jane, kissing her cheek warmly. “I expect a full workup in the morning. Coffee at Ravenwood? I’ll tell you all about my salacious activities with the very hot, very married Victoria’s Secret model I’m going to see.”

Jane gaped. “Did you just say ‘married’?”

“Oh,” Susannah shrugged. “Yeah. Her husband’s into it. Who do you think paid for our room? Ta!” With that, Susannah evaporated, heading straight to the elevators.

Colt smiled in bewilderment. “She’s your…?”

“Best friend,” Jane supplied with a soft smile. “Since we were girls.”

“She’s funny,” Colt said. “I like her.”

Jane giggled and said, “Everyone likes Susannah, and Susannah likes almost no one.”

“Seems to like the Victoria’s Secret model,” he offered wryly earning another laugh from Jane.

“You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t like Victoria’s Secret models.”

“Fair,” he allowed.

Her fingers wrapped around the stem of her glass and she took a small sip of her drink without looking away from Colt’s eyes. “Are you getting a drink?” she asked.

“I ordered a bottle of Dom to the room,” he answered suggestively, tilting to graze his lips against Jane’s ear again. “Finish your martini. No rush.”

“You ordered Dom Pérignon for a hotel tryst with a woman you just met?” she asked incredulously. “Pulling out all the stops, I see.”

“Is that a problem?” Colt asked with that indecent smirk still playing on his lips. He moved his hand from Jane’s back to rest on her shoulder and lazily brushed invisible patterns into her skin.

Jane drank again, considering before she simply said, “Just curious.”

She licked her lips and watched as his eyes clouded, all of his attention focused on her mouth. Jane was desperate to kiss this delicious man again. She ached to feel his tongue and teeth all over her body and wondered if she’d ever be the same after it was said and done. Because this certainly was going to be a one-night-only situation, despite the fact that Colt made her insides feel like a lightning storm.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, leaning further into Jane’s body so that he was standing between her knees. She blinked and felt her cheeks warm once again, reached for her cocktail, and downed the remaining contents.

“Take me to your room and maybe I’ll tell you,” she smiled.

A guttural groan escaped from Colt’s throat at Jane’s teasing. He slipped his hands to her waist and pulled her from the stool, setting her on her feet. They stood, chest to chest at the bar, breathing the same air and tearing each other’s clothes off with their eyes. Finally, Colt began to lean in for another kiss. His bottom lip brushed hers gently and she smiled wide, painfully excited for what would come next.

“Jane! I told you you’d like him!”

Jane and Colt froze, blinking at each other, before turning to their intruder.

Frances stood next to John Dudley, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “I told her she’d like him,” she said again, nudging John’s ribs with her elbow. “Mummies do know best.”

When Jane felt confident enough to speak, she only managed to say, “Mother?”

“Jane, dear! It’s so good to see you!” John Dudley swept the four steps between them and pulled Jane into an awkward hug that also pulled her hips from Colt’s grip. John kissed the top of her head and sighed, “More beautiful than ever, every time I see you.” He looked away from Jane to glance at Colt before exclaiming happily, “And I see you’ve met Guildford! Brilliant!”

What. The. Fuck.

Jane whipped around to face Colt – Guildford? Her eyes were wide and his matched; the way he stared at her was the way one would stare at a ghost.

“I’m sorry – you’re Guildford Dudley?” Her voice hit a high, nervous octave.

“You’re Jane Grey?” Colt – Guildford! – shot back, equally perplexed. His eyes were frantic, darting back and forth between Jane, Frances, and his father, like he was expecting the punchline of a joke.

“Oh, fuck me,” Jane said flatly.

Chapter Text

Two days later, Jane was finishing a twenty-four-hour shift at Verity Cross Hospital, busying herself with discharge paperwork before she left for the day. It was just before 8:00 AM and she was very much looking forward to crawling into her bed until the late afternoon.

Dr. Seymour, Jane’s attending physician and a royal pain in her ass, had run her ragged all night. She had been up to her eyeballs in ER admissions – splinting limbs, administering albuterol, placing IVs, and inspecting varying degrees of rashes – but Seymour kept her pager beeping incessantly, running back and forth between the ICU and his research lab in the opposite wing. While she hated answering to Dr. Seymour, he was the head of Verity Cross’ oncology department and somewhat of an idol of Jane’s. She couldn’t deny that she was fascinated by his accolades and the clinical trial he was spearheading.

And she was dog-tired, but at least the oncology research commanded enough of Jane’s attention to keep her from thinking about him.

At least, that was true until her shift ended.

“Grey.” Jane turned around to find her attending staring at her with unmasked disdain. Jane was slumped over a desk at one of the nurses’ stations, sipping coffee and catching up with her favorite oncology nurse, Fitz.

“Dr. Seymour,” she quickly responded, straightening her posture.

He tapped his tablet impatiently before coldly saying, “You’ve maxed your hours. Clock out and don’t come back until Sunday,” and stomping away.

Jane released a breath, turning to scowl at Fitz who hid his smile behind his tumbler of coffee. “He hates your guts,” Fitz offered with sympathy. “I can’t see how you can keep working with him.” Fitz had witnessed firsthand how often Seymour borderline abused his power when it came to Jane. He’d asked her out once, a long time ago when she was still an intern, and when she rejected him he took to making her life hell and treating her like a rabid rodent in his vegetable garden.

Rolling her eyes, Jane muttered, “If you have any leads on oncology gods who aren’t complete prats, please send them my way.” Hands trembling, she chugged the rest of her lukewarm coffee, said goodbye to Fitz, and headed to the locker room.

Once Jane was freshly showered and dressed in clean clothes, she strolled out of the hospital and began her commute to West Kensington. She spent her time on the Tube as she always did: checking her emails, texts, and never-ending to-do lists. An email from her mother’s assistant caught her attention and she tapped on the subject line.

Dr. Grey,

Please see the attached photos of gowns Mrs. Grey would like you to consider wearing for her showcase in two weeks.

Cheers,

Esther Corrigan

Executive Assistant, Grey Wardrobe Co.

Swiping through the images of gowns her mother wished to stuff and sew her into, Jane screenshotted the two she liked most and texted the images to Susannah. If anyone could be trusted to help Jane make a couture decision, it was Susannah. Or Katherine, even.

Jane fielded a few more emails from colleagues and the occasional social media influencer who wished to invite her to a party or podcast (or both) until she finally reached her stop and exited the train to walk toward her flat. The weather was warm and muggy which Jane detested. If she could live in constant fifteen-degree weather, she would absolutely thrive.

When she was a few blocks from home, her phone began vibrating in her back pocket.

“Did you see the dresses I sent you?” Jane asked without saying hello.

“Obviously,” Susannah scoffed. “I’m slightly offended you had to ask – you know I’m always going to tell you to wear the green option.”

“I like that one, too,” Jane agreed. “I just don’t know if it’s too… sexy.”

Susannah grunted and said, “It is impossible to be too sexy. Have I taught you nothing? Wear the slutty green dress and give the Hadids a run for their money, I say.”

Jane could always count on Susannah to empower and encourage her through any wardrobe uncertainty. “Fine, right, I’ll tell Esther to pull the green one. What are you doing today?” Jane slipped an AirPod into her ear so that she could talk to Susannah while she emailed her mother’s assistant.

“That’s my girl! And eh, not much. I have a client meeting in a couple of hours but other than that, my day is dull. Are you home from work yet? Wanna grab breakfast?”

Groaning, Jane said apologetically, “Please, don’t hate me, but I am so tired I’m hallucinating. I need to sleep.”

“Wow,” Susannah said dryly. “What, you think because you save lives and shit, you don’t have to make time for your friends?” Her sarcasm was not lost on Jane who giggled tiredly into the phone. “Jokes. I still love you.”

“And I love you.” Jane meant it.

“Think you’ll be up for drinks later, though? Edward wants to go to Ethian Tavern to play pool. It’ll be fuuun!” Susannah sang that last word, drawing out the syllables. The idea of spending time with her best friend and her cousin, another best friend, was enticing.

“Yeah, that sounds good to me. I’m off for a few days. Dickhead Seymour made sure to tell me I can’t work until Sunday. I’ve hit my hours, I guess.”

“Honestly? It disgusts me that your hospital wants its doctors to keep healthy work-life balances. You should be able to cut into terminal old men regardless of how much sleep you’ve had.”

“I don’t cut into anyone,” Jane snorted. “I’m not a surgeon.”

“Well, I think you should be able to cut old men, anyway. It’s the principle.”

“Somehow I feel like the common constituent would disagree with you.”

“Yeah, ‘cause of the patriarchy.”

“Because cutting random people is assault,” Jane said with a massive smile, shaking her head at Susannah’s insanity.

“Bah,” she scoffed. “Well, then. You get some sleep, you sweet angel. I’ll see you at Ethian later – around 6?”

“I’ll see you there,” Jane grinned. “Later.”

—

After a much-deserved rest, Jane woke feeling refreshed and excited to spend her free time at a silly little pub instead of some posh socialite party. She padded into her kitchen to make some quick pesto pasta for supper and checked more emails as she devoured her food. Glancing at the time, she cursed when she noticed it was already almost 5 and dumped her bowl into the sink before rushing to her room.

As Jane sat at her vanity to apply her makeup, she heard the distinct sound of her front door opening and groaned.

“Jane, dear – are you home?” her mother’s voice sang, her heels clicking on the wooden floors towards Jane’s room.

“You know, they make phones for these circumstances,” Jane muttered with dripping sarcasm as she filled in her dark brows. In the mirror, she watched as Frances propped her hands to her hips, looking as annoyed as ever by her daughter’s brassy retort.

“You never answer when I call,” Frances stated. “Where are you going?”

Jane sighed, reaching for her concealer. “Out with Susannah and Edward,” was all she offered to her mother.

Wrinkling her nose, Frances inspected the clothes spread across Jane’s duvet. “And you’re wearing… that.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m going to a pub, Mother. Not The Ritz.”

Frances stepped away from Jane’s bed as if the clothing might jump out and bite her – or worse as if a pap might jump from Jane’s closet to snap photos of Frances Grey in the same vicinity as cotton blends and denim. “Pub,” she quipped. “Charming.”

Another sigh from Jane. Frances was quite efficient at eliciting such a response from her daughter.

“Is there a reason you’ve let yourself into my home? Or are you only here to patronize me and insult my wardrobe?”

“Straight to it, then,” Frances said, going to sit on an antique, upholstered armchair in front of Jane’s bedroom window. “I came to talk to you about the other night, with Guildford Dudley.”

Jane turned on her stool to face Frances. “What about it?” she asked through barred teeth.

Frances threw her hands into the air, waving them as if to say “You know what!” which Jane ignored, only arching a brow and shaking her head slightly.

“You were rude, Jane. You need to apologize.”

The cackle that escaped her mouth was involuntary. “Apologize? Are you insane? I have nothing to apologize for and I certainly won’t gift Guildford Dudley with a false admission of guilt to coddle his bruised ego.” Jane scoffed, turned back to her vanity, and began applying her mascara. “I can’t believe you barged into my flat without an invitation to ask something so nonsensical of me.”

“Oh, Jane,” Frances said sweetly without flinching. “I’m not asking you to do anything.” She stalked to Jane and stood behind her, glaring through the mirror. “You will apologize to that man. The way you sprinted out of the gala without even saying goodbye! It was mortifying! When John and I approached you and Guildford, your tongues were almost down each other’s throats. And you think you can embarrass me by just – scampering out of there like a runaway bride?”

“For fuck’s sake, Mum.” Jane pushed back from the vanity and stood to square her shoulders with Frances. “First, I did not sprint or scamper – or any other synonym of ‘flee’ that you can think of. I left because he was dishonest with me, and I don’t care for dishonest men. Second, you have no power to make me do anything. I am a grown woman. I have a career and my own life outside of you and your old-money circle. When I say, ‘I do not care what John or Guildford Dudley think about me,’ I want you to understand that I genuinely do not give a fuck. My life does not revolve around spoon-feeding perfectly capable men.” Jane took a deep breath, superbly annoyed that Frances did not seem even slightly put out by her speech. “Are we done here?”

“No,” Frances answered easily. “John has spent weeks talking you up to his son, only for you to behave like you were raised in Essex.” Jane snorted at her mother’s blatant classism.

“Who cares?” she asked, exasperated. “Why does it matter what John Dudley or his wanker son think of me? Or of you, for that matter?”

“You know, Jane. You can stand around here with your degrees and your books and your political activism, but let’s not pretend you would have any of your accomplishments without your family’s name. At the end of the day, you’re still a Grey. And you have a duty to your family to find someone worthy of marrying – “

“ – Oh, we’re talking about marriage? Silly me, I thought this was a conversation about apologizing for my alleged impudence.”

“We’re always talking about marriage! You ended things with Workeye months ago and have shown no initiative to find someone new! People talk, Jane. And the talk hasn’t been in your favor.”

Jane’s jaw dropped and she worked diligently to hide the hurt from her face before saying, “He broke my heart, Mum. I’m your daughter. When my heart is broken, yours should be, too.”

“Jane,” Frances drawled, rolling her eyes. “No one cares about love or heartbreak. What’s important is wealth.”

Seething, Jane turned on her heel to snatch her clothing from her bed and storm into her walk-in closet. “Just curious,” she called from behind her closet door. “Do you hear yourself when you talk? Or do you speak as if it’s 1811 on purpose?”

“In 1811, daughters respected their mothers.”

“In 1811, daughters were forced to marry inadequate men for money, and they killed themselves.” Dressed in a black, long-sleeved, square-neck bodysuit and light boyfriend jeans, Jane waltzed back into her bedroom and crossed her arms, eyeing her mother expectantly. “Or did we forget that I don’t need to marry a man for his change purse, considering my degrees and books my nepotism has so graciously afforded me?”

Just then, Frances’ phone pinged and she reached into her trousers to check the device and typed a reply to whoever texted her – probably Esther. Hopefully not John Dudley.

Shortly after, she pocketed the phone and appraised Jane’s appearance, inspecting her from head to toe. “I have a dinner meeting,” she said finally. “Denim is woefully unbecoming, but you make it work somehow.”

That’s as close as Frances Grey ever gets to saying “You look nice” to her daughter.

Without another word, she sniffed and sashayed from Jane’s bedroom and, thankfully, her flat.

“Shit,” Jane hissed, looking at the time. It was almost 6 – she was running late. She stuffed her feet into white, lugged Chuck Taylor high-tops, hopping across the floor comically before snatching her keys and purse from her dresser.

—

“Your mother needs to be institutionalized.” Jane barked a laugh, agreeing with Susannah, and clinked her glass against hers in cheers. The pair sat at the bar at Ethian Tavern while they waited for Edward. “I think Frances thinks she lives in a Jane Austen novel.”

“Must be why she’s so hell-bent on selling me off like cattle,” Jane giggled.

“Do you ever think about Katherine and Margaret still living with her, and just get like, really sad?”

“Only all the time,” Jane shrugged. “Though history ascertains she’s always been a little crazier when it comes to me – “

“ – Bollocks!” Susannah interrupted, whispering. “Don’t turn around… Archer is here, sitting at a back table with his band of heathens.” She squinted menacingly.

Jane’s heart plummeted into her chest and her pulse suddenly felt dangerously high.

This cannot be fucking happening.

“We can leave,” Susannah offered, already thinking of damage control. “Fuck him, Jane. Let’s get out of here.”

Suddenly, Jane and Susannah were enveloped in a set of broad, strong arms. Edward’s kind face appeared between their shoulders with an entirely too wide, perfect grin. “My favorite ladies!” he bellowed, gripping their shoulders affectionately. “I’ve missed you!”

Jane beamed at her cousin and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I miss you every moment you aren’t near,” she said with a genuine smile. “How are you? What’s new? Do you want to fucking leave maybe?”

Edward’s gleeful features turned down in confusion. “Leave? I just got here.”

“Ahem,” Susannah coughed, gaining Edward’s attention. She subtly nodded toward the back of the tavern and whispered, “Persona non grata.”

Jane’s cousin risked a glance and turned back to Jane and Susannah with a scowl. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “He never comes here. Jane, we can leave – if you want to.”

Jane sighed, slumping forward in her chair, defeated. “No, no. It’s fine – I’m fine. I’ll have to learn to see him in public anyway.” Right then, Jane noticed Edward had a companion. A certain blonde, blue-eyed, last-name-Dudley companion. “Stan?” she asked, surprised.

Edward, seemingly reminded they weren’t alone, jumped and turned to Stan Dudley, pulling him closer to the trio. “Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “Stan and I went to the new art exhibit at the V&A earlier. I invited him to join us.” Edward’s cheeks blushed slightly and Stan’s eyes lingered.

She immediately clocked the awkwardness but opted not to press into Edward’s personal life.

“Well, hell yeah!” Susannah fist-bumped, sloshing her beer over the rim of her glass. “It’s a party then!”

“It’s nice to see you, Jane. Susannah.” Stan’s smile was warm, as it always was, and Jane caught herself wondering how the fuck she almost shagged his brother without knowing Colt was Stan’s brother in the first place.

“Nice to see you, Stan,” Jane offered.

See, Mother? I can be polite and ladylike. To people who deserve it.

“How’ve you been? It’s been a while since I’ve bumped into you.”

“Oh,” Stan stumbled on his words. “You know, a little of this, little of that.” He looked down at his shoes, clearly uncomfortable. Jane raised her brow at his cryptic answer but let it slide because he seemed embarrassed. Though she found that to be odd, too, because as long as she’d known Stan Dudley (her entire life) she’d never pegged him to be capable of humiliation.

“Staaan,” Susannah cut in, elongating his name into three syllables. “Our dearest Jane here met your incorrigible brother at the Red Cross gala. What are the odds?” She grinned devilishly, flinching when Jane raised her hand to swat her arm.

Stan laughed lightly and said, “The odds aren’t so slim, I’m afraid. My father and Frances were scheming to introduce them for quite some time.” He turned to Jane, frowning. “Incorrigible?”

Susannah giggled into her beer and Jane felt her entire face flame crimson.

“Wait, you met Guildford at the charity ball?” Edward looked between Jane and Susannah, trying to figure out where the conversation was heading. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Well, you weren’t there, for one,” Jane sighed, scowling. “Thanks for that, by the way. It would have been nice to have backup. I brought Susannah but she had ulterior motives.” Jane cut a mocking, disappointing glare to her best friend.

Shrugging, Susannah said, “I make no apologies. I pegged a model.”

Edward and Stan both choked. Jane’s face remained indifferent.

“A model?” Stan asked.

“Pegged?” Edward asked at the same time.

“Bow before me,” Susannah grinned, waving her hand like a princess.

An easy, breathy giggle bubbled from Jane. These were her favorite moments – huddled together with Edward and Susannah (and Stan?) sharing secrets and making crude jokes. These were the moments she felt whole as a person, and not just the shell of a person she was in her mother’s world.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

Gone was the smile on Jane’s face. She was suddenly stoic and postured, whipping her head to see a tall man standing next to Stan.

He looked just as delicious as he had at the hotel. Dark, messy curls. Brooding eyes. Devastating, confident smirk and swagger.

“Guildford!” Edward said with excessive enthusiasm. His eyes met Jane’s as if in apology. “We were late, too! No bother.” A very brief, very uncomfortable silence surrounded the group until Edward continued, “Guildford, this is my cousin, Jane. And Susannah. Susannah is not my cousin. She’s a dear friend.” Edward’s rambling was painful, truly, but Jane couldn’t comment because she was too busy staring at Guildford Dudley like he was a bear in the woods.

“We’ve met,” Guildford responded cooly.

“Have we?” Jane’s voice was clipped. “I remember meeting a… Colt, was it?”

Stan, looking as uncomfortable as Edward, perked up, grinning. “That’s his nickname! Colt! He was a wild one on the football field when he – “ Stan stopped short, recognizing his brother’s steely glower. “Nickname,” he offered, shrugging.

“Nickname,” Jane repeated softly. Susannah chortled. “Interesting.”

Edward clapped his hands eagerly. “Should we play a game of pool?”

—

Jane, Susannah, Edward, Stan, and Guildford moved to the billiards and played several games. First, Jane beat Stan. Then she lost to Edward. Then Edward lost to Guildford, Guildford beat Susannah, and then Guildford beat Stan. Jane was hesitant to accept the challenge but she didn’t want to seem uncomfortable or meek around Guildford, so she agreed.

After breaking, Guildford complimented her breaking abilities. Which only pissed her the fuck off.

“I’m sure it’s no surprise to you as you watched me dominate your brother, but I’m quite good at pool.”

“Well,” he shrugged. “Your wrist – it’s a little…”

Jane straightened, looking pointedly at Guildford. “It’s a little?”

He seemed to stumble over his words, trying desperately not to offend her. “Limp? It’s a little limp – I’m just saying you could get a better spread if you – “

“ – Do you know I learned how to play billiards when I was six?” Jane asked, her voice raising an octave. Guildford slumped, lowering his eyes to the ground as if he were expecting Jane’s tirade to continue. “And I bested my father, without him taking it easy on me, by eight.”

At that, Guildford barked a laugh. “You bested a grown man at pool? When you were eight? And he wasn’t holding back?” Jane’s eyes narrowed, her hip jutting to the side. “Jane, sweetheart. I hate to be the one to inform you, but your father was definitely taking it easy on you.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “If you feel so confident, let’s stop rambling and you just take your turn, hmm?”

Edward, Stan, and Susannah were all painstakingly silent throughout this verbal warfare. Guildford raised his brows and dipped into a slight bow. “As you wish,” he said with a smirk.

Edward made two balls – 10 and 14. High.

Jane shot and sank the 4 but missed on the 3.

Guildford called the 9 but missed.

Jane, preening like a peacock, pocketed the 3, 6, and the 2.

It continued like this, Jand and Guildford playing silently against each other. If Jane weren’t so wrapped up in winning, she might have noticed how Guildford watched her. Admired her. His eyes focused wholly on the lines of her body as she leaned over the table to aim her shots. He noticed how her eyes flitted between the balls and the pockets, and how she remained acutely aware of the 8 ball. Her meticulous focus was jarring.

Nevertheless, when Guildford sank his final ball, he couldn’t resist the slight gloat at Jane’s expense. Their friends laughed, tapping pint glasses, and dubbed Guildford their honorary King of Balls.

“Good game,” he offered, smiling, as he approached Jane with an outstretched hand. She stared at it like it was a snake.

“I need a beer,” she said before slinking away to the bar.

The crowd had grown since they arrived so Jane was stuck in beer-limbo, waiting for a refill, when Guildford materialized at her side. There were no more empty stools, so he shrugged into the space between Jane and the stranger who sat to her right. His elbow perched on the bar and she sucked in a breath, all too familiar with how his proximity made her body react.

“My personal space,” Jane muttered, turning her head slightly to the left to avoid Guildford’s eyes.

“Can you give me an idea of how long this detestation will last? I’m not even sure what I did to deserve it.”

Jane bristled, shooting daggers into Guildford with her eyes.

“If you’d like a list of reasons why you deserve my resignation – “

“ – Resignation?” Guildford laughed again as he did when they began their game of pool. “Your behavior has been thinly veiled animosity. Resignation is a vast understatement.”

She looked at his face as he maintained his charismatic, unbothered facade. But Jane also noted the irritation and – was that distress? – in his eyes. The top buttons of his white shirt were undone, leaving his chest partially visible. Two sparkling, beaded necklaces dangled against his tanned skin and she wondered, for whatever reason, where he got them.

“I – “ she started, hesitating. “I don’t care for liars.” Jane turned her attention to the fresh pint of beer that was thankfully placed in front of her. “I have enough experience with dishonest men.”

Guildford, thankfully, remained quiet for a moment. Jane sipped her lager, desperately hoping Guildford would just disappear instead of peeling away more of her uncomfortable layers.

After a minute or two, though, he squashed those dreams.

“Jane,” he said, desperation in his deep voice. “I’m not a liar. My name, to most people in my life, is Colt. And maybe you’re angry because I didn’t realize you were Jane Grey – but in my defense, you’re the fourth Jane I’ve met this week. I’m not kidding.”

Jane lifted her chin to assess his face. He looked at her with genuine sorrow and confusion.

“So you didn’t know that I was the Jane your father intended to introduce you to?” she asked dryly, despite his solemnity.

Guildford swallowed a lump in his throat and moved both of his hands to cover one of Jane’s that rested on the bar top. “I had no idea. I swear.” He sighed when Jane didn’t flinch away from his touch. “I knew my father wanted me to meet Jane Grey, but I didn’t care enough to think anything of it. When I started talking to you at the gala, it was because I wanted to. I realize that sounds impossible but I… I don’t know how I can even begin to prove my honesty. I just needed to tell you that I had no idea, and I’m sorry for the entire misunderstanding.”

Jane’s hand trembled slightly beneath his clasped hands and she found herself praying Guildford wouldn’t notice the tremor.

“Jane.” Her entire body stiffened at the voice that came from behind her. The first thing she noticed was Guildford’s gaze, cutting to the person who interrupted them. He wasn’t angry or intimidating or jealous – he simply observed. Then he turned his attention to Jane, waiting for her to respond to the person behind her.

She gulped another sip of her beer before swiveling on her stool, the movement causing her knees to brush into Guildford’s thighs. She didn’t not notice how his hands continued covering hers.

“Archer,” Jane said with as much indifference as she could muster. “Can I help you?”

Chapter Text

Jane’s annoyingly handsome ex-boyfriend smiled at her, eyes snapping to Guildford so quickly that Jane thought she’d imagined it.

Archer breathed with an air of calm, if not cockiness. “Just wanted to say hi. How are you?”

She drummed her fingers beneath Guildford’s light touch and bounced her foot, tapping his shin with her toe. Her actions were innocent, her body simply reacting to the sinking feeling of doom in her belly, and incognito enough for Jane to trust that even Archer wouldn’t notice her discomfort.

Guildford, however, the perceptive gentleman, slid one hand to rest casually on Jane’s knee. She felt instantaneous comfort and raised her lips in thanks.

“Wonderful,” Jane chirped with an award-winning grin. Without intending to, she leaned slightly towards Guildford. His steady hand slipped up her thigh, barely noticeable yet unmistakably noticed by Archer. “Never been better.”

“Good,” Archer forced a curt nod with his eyes burning into Guildford’s hand placement. Then, he looked at Jane’s face and asked, "Will you introduce me to your friend?” The smugness in his voice caused Jane’s muscles to tense, her body nearly closing in on itself.

There was truly no hope for Jane at this point, and so no one should be surprised by what spilled from her mouth next.

“This is my boyfriend.” Jane’s eyes flared, jumping to Guildford in alarm. His resounding smirk was all the encouragement she needed. “Surely, you know of Guildford Dudley?” she asked Archer, astonished. “John Dudley’s son?”

Archer veiled his face with faux uncertainty, animating his features. “Guildford Dudley? I know Stan,” he paused, jerking his chin towards the pool tables where Stan talked with Susannah and Edward.

Guildford extended a firm hand to Archer, who surveyed it like a moldy piece of bread. “Colt Dudley,” he said with a polished tone. A hint of a smile danced on his lips. Archer accepted the handshake, and Guildford’s grip tightened before saying, “And you are?”

Jane worked to bite back the giggle that threatened to explode from her. Archer, who was known by just about anyone in England, was properly affronted by Guildford’s question.

He flashed a smile, his voice dripping with malice through clenched teeth. “My grandfather was Prime Minister.”

“Oh!” Guildford exclaimed, dropping Archer’s hand to hold Jane’s hip. His fingers brushed the waistband of her jeans as he drawled, “Yes, Prime Minister Workeye! My family hated him.”

“Your family should join mine for dinner,” Archer’s voice was flat, his face bored. “We’d have a lot in common.”

“I’m sure we would,” Edward smiled. Jane’s fingers pinched the skin of his ribs.

She raised her brows and sighed. “Well, Archer, it’s been lovely chatting, but—"

“How long have you been together? Colt, I haven’t seen you around in a few years.” Archer’s interruption sent fury through Jane.

“I thought you didn’t know who I was?" Guildford clipped, a knowing smirk aimed at the other man.

“We’ve been—" Jane stammered, looking to Guildford for help.

As much time as she’d spent with Archer, being paraded through political campaign events and forced into tortuous conversations with his supervillain grandfather, she’d expected to be less affected by his shortcomings. After all, she had turned a blind eye for years. Still, his boisterous behavior, interrupting her not-date with Guildford Dudley to goad her reaction, made Jane’s skin flame in anger.

“Not long,” he supplied. Jane was grateful for his vague answer. “I’ve only just moved back to England. We kept in touch while I was in America and I visited home when possible.” He gazed at Jane with affection; his expression was excessively tender. “Now we’re keeping in touch in different ways.”

Jane blanched, and her foot smashed into Guildford’s shin with more force than before. Guildford’s reaction was nonexistent.

“Interesting revelation. Tell me, when you were ‘keeping in touch’ with Jane, were you aware she had a boyfriend?” Archer leered at Jane. “Because we only just ended things, what? Two months ago?”

“I knew. Jane stated explicitly that our relationship was platonic.”

“Right,” Jane nodded, matching Archer’s venom. “Guildford – Colt never made a move until I was single. He’s a proper gentleman.”

“Galahad reborn,” Guildford teased, grinning at the indignant woman in his arms – thankful that her anger was directed at the Workeye wanker instead of him. “Jane’s desires are paramount. I would never pressure her to jeopardize her integrity.”

Jane flinched her focus to Guildford, and the ice thawed from her eyes. Her breath hitched, reminding her of how very charming she found his smooth talking and witty exchanges. For once, she was grateful for her ex’s presence because she would certainly lean in to kiss Guildford if he weren’t standing there.

“And the two of you never… compromised Jane’s integrity when you would visit?” Jane and Guildford didn’t miss the accusation, returning their stares to Archer. “Just an innocent question, of course. I have a hard time believing there were zero transgressions.”

Jane emitted a dry, mirthless sound. “You’re kidding.”

If there is one thing, dear reader, that will finally make a woman absolutely, fucking snap, it’s when she has been gaslit by her unconscionable, self-serving ex-boyfriend one time too many.

“You cheated on me with anyone with breasts for the better part of a year!” Jane slid from her stool, raising her voice with every word. Guildford’s fingers pressed harder into her flesh. She felt brave with him beside her, ready to rip Archer a new one. “You disappeared for weeks at a time, telling me you were traveling for work—when in reality, you were fucking other women on private beaches.” Jane shoved a manicured finger into Archer’s chest. He had the good sense to at least appear sheepish.

“Do you have any fucking clue how many ‘hey girly’ messages were hiding in my inbox requests?” By this time, Susannah, Edward, and Stan had realized the commotion at the bar and were heading over. “Do you have any clue how mortifying it is to receive incriminating photos and screenshots from dozens of women who have slept with your partner of two years?”

Edward glued himself to Jane’s side, opposite Guildford. “What’s going on?” he asked in hushed tones, not that it mattered.

“Yes, Archer, what’s going on?” Jane asked, lifting her arms expectantly. She laughed again and wondered if she could breathe fire. “Share with the class! Tell everyone here how you interrupted my date because you were jealous. Tell them how seeing me with another man has scorned your delicate ego.”

Archer scoffed then, opening his mouth to respond, but Jane was far from finished.

“You have the balls to question my integrity? You dare to question my physical relationship with Guildford while we were still together?” Cheers for Jane could be heard from a random person in the tavern. “I was only with you. Even towards the end, when I started hating your guts, I respected you enough not to jump into another man’s bed until I was able to leave you.” Jane glanced at the crowd of curious bar patrons surrounding them. “Do you think he afforded me the same decency?” she asked them.

“Probably not,” a woman called.

Susannah laughed. “He definitely didn’t.” She curled her lip at Archer.

“I’m not listening to this shit,” Archer bellowed, turning to walk away from a woman scorned.

Terrible choice.

“Then I’ll speak louder so you can hear while you retreat like the coward you are,” Jane yelled. The entire bar fell silent and Archer stopped in his tracks, his back still to Jane. “That got your attention, huh?” Guildford’s lips twitched while he studied Jane in amazement.

“Jane, maybe we should –"

“Hush, Edward!” Susannah cut him off. “She’s been needing to do this for weeks.”

Jane noticed that Guildford didn’t attempt interference, and she had the clarity to be gracious.

“Sandra McFinny,” she said, not yelling still but not quiet. “Britney Banks. Aliyah Williamson. Kayla. Other Kayla. Other other Kayla. Sienna. Alexandria.” Jane’s voice faltered, and she shook her head with heavy sadness. “That’s not even all of them!”

Several people in the room gasped; others sucked their teeth at Archer.

Guildford, unable to control his tongue, spat at Archer’s back. “At least be man enough to look at her!”

Archer's back locked, and he swung to face Guildford, then Jane, eyes blazing.

Shrugging his shoulders, Archer asked, “What do you want me to say, sweetheart? I fucked up. I know that. But I was under the impression we were just taking a break, so we could figure out how to move on, and then I find you wrapped up in Colt fucking Dudley.” He paused to squint his eyes at Guildford before returning his attention to Jane. “You’re right – I shouldn’t have interrupted you here. I should have known you couldn’t resist causing a scene. But I do think we should… talk… alone. About us.”

The room was silent as Jane, Susannah, and Edward gaped at Archer. She turned to each of them, conveying her total confusion. Archer seemed to understand he had said something stupid because he shuffled on his feet and worked his jaw.

“Did he just say he knew I’d cause a scene?” she questioned Susannah, her voice laced with disbelief.

“Sure did.”

Stan gulped, nudging Guildford’s shoulder. “This can’t be good.”

Jane and Susannah continued their unspoken conversation. Jane knew if she asked Susannah to help hide his body, she wouldn’t hesitate for a second.

Her tongue wetted her lips with sinister intent. She stepped away from Guildford, just slightly, to plant her feet directly in front of Archer.

“Let me make something crystal clear, Workeye.” Heat radiated from Jane. Her fingers were trembling, aching to claw into Archer’s throat. “It was never going to be just a break. I’m not sure why I need to clarify that – I assumed when I moved out my shit and blocked your number, you’d get the fucking hint. You ruined everything. I didn’t force you to fuck models and actresses in Ibiza. You chose to be a fucking idiot and throw away any chance of making things work. You are only pleading your case and begging for my time because I’ve found someone new. But you won’t get my time, Archer. Never again.”

“Tell his ass!” a random woman yelled.

“Piss off and mind your business,” Archer growled to the crowd around them.

Jane turned around then, only to grab her beer from the bar top. She chugged the remaining lager and slammed her glass into the wood. “Do you want to leave?” Guildford’s voice was quiet, intended only for her. His mouth hovered close to her ear and his thumb rubbed circles into her lower back. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, swiveling her head to brush her nose against his jaw.

The volume in the tavern began picking up as the vultures grew tired of waiting for the rest of the show. Jane was confident Archer would be gone when she turned around again. Guildford reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of bills. He motioned to the bartender and informed her he was paying for Jane, Stan, Susannah, and Edward.

“You know, in the future, when you see my cousin in public, I’d prefer it if you fucked off instead of approaching her.” Jane spun to see Edward dangerously close to Archer, his chest puffed and jaw clenched. “You’ve done enough when it comes to Jane.”

A hollow, shadowed laugh floated from Archer. He looked over Edward’s shoulder and said to Jane, “I hope you’re finished with your list of grievances about our relationship.”

“Frankly, the list is too extensive to share in one meeting,” she spat. “But yes, I’m quite finished with you.”

Susannah crossed her arms. “Fuck yeah, she is,” she smiled.

Guildford, after paying his tab, wrapped his arm around Jane’s waist and pulled her to his side. “Let’s go home, baby.” He raised his voice so her ex would catch every word.

They moved to the door, Guildford’s hand guiding Jane. As they walked by Archer, his hand snapped out and clasped Guildford’s shoulder, halting their exit.

“Good luck with that one,” he whispered. “Give it a month and you’ll be so bored, you’ll be sniffing for strange, too.”

Jane lunged without pause, attempting to throw herself over Archer with balled fists. Guildford, luckily, caught her midair. He lifted her, hugging her to his chest, as he resumed their exit from the bar they'd likely never return to. “You son of a bitch! I fucking hate you! Let me hit him!” Jane thrashed against Guildford’s firm grip, flailing her arms over his shoulders and spitting her hateful words at Archer with direct eye contact.

She wanted to kill him. She was ready to throw away her future, everything she’d worked for, just to wrap her hands around his neck.

Guildford’s voice bellowed through the bar, muffling Jane’s shouting as he reached the threshold. “Speak to Jane again, Workeye; she’ll be the least of your problems.”

Jane could hear Susannah say, “And when he comes for you, we’ll help him,” as the door closed behind them.

Guildford walked with Jane partially thrown over his shoulder until three or four buildings separated them from Ethian Tavern. Her temper had diffused by then, teetering on warm instead of lava hot, but Guildford’s grip remained firm on her hand. Edward and Stan walked in the same manner, which Jane found interesting, but she was too wrapped in her own head to ask questions.

—

When they reached her flat, everyone sat in her living room with sympathetic and curious looks. No one spoke.

Jane wasn’t ready to speak and left them to busy herself in the kitchen. She rummaged through her liquor bottles, considering her ingredients.

Stan entered shortly after, watching as she made five cocktails, pouring bourbon into each glass in a smooth, steady line.

“Your home is lovely,” he offered with a polite smile. Jane wondered if the others sent him to the kitchen because of his affable charm and easy warmth. Probably figured he’d be least likely to be scolded – or knifed. “You have an eye for interior design.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled lamely while reaching for the bitters.

“They, uh, want me to ask if you’re okay,” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Now that I’m talking to you, it seems like a stupid thing to ask.” Jane only blinked at him. “I know we’re not really friends, which makes it stupider…” She looked away from him, splashing bitters into the glasses wordlessly.

“Do you need any help?” Stan pivoted.

Jane paused her movements, contemplating. Then she said, “There are prepped veggies and cheeses in the fridge. And biscuits in that cabinet.” She nodded to her dry goods storage.

Stan followed Jane’s instructions and returned to the living room with a snack platter.

When she entered the room with a tray full of cocktails, it was more than obvious that her four guests had been whispering. Edward, Susannah, and Stan sat on her sofa, Guildford nearby on an ottoman. They pulled apart, shushing their conversation when Jane strolled to the coffee table and placed the drinks next to the snacks.

She silently sat on her loveseat, pulling her feet under her body, and sipped her old fashioned. Finally, she looked at Stan and offered him a slight but genuine smile. “I think we’re friends, Stan.” Worry melted from his face, replaced by surprise and gratitude. “Thank you for helping with the –” she waved to the refrigerated vegetables and cheese.

“Happy to help,” he responded.

The group of unlikely comrades sipped their beverages and annihilated the cheese and biscuits. They kept their conversations light. They exchanged casual comments about football, the Olympics, and Marvel's latest film.

Jane was struck by the thought that she had known Stan Dudley for most of her life but had never spent quality time with him before now. She’d technically known of Guildford, too, but hadn’t thought of him at all as he’d lived in America for so long.

Earlier, Frances was imploring Jane to apologize to Guildford. To make nice with him. Potentially date him. Now he was in her living room, lounging on her furniture with a drink, and Jane was glad. If only her mother could see how her evening had turned.

Deciding to know him, Jane aimed a line of questions at Guildford. His brown eyes twinkled, soaking up the benevolent exchanges that had taken the place of her previous disdain.

“Why did you stay in the States so long? Why not move home sooner?”

“Partly for our mum, partly for school. I studied at Stanford and then MIT, so I just didn’t have the time to visit often.”

Jane was not expecting him to say that. “Wow,” she said, impressed.

“What the hell did you go to Stanford and MIT for?” Edward asked. “You some kind of genius?”

“No, not a genius,” Guildford chuckled, leaning back on the ottoman to shift his weight onto one hand. "I knew eventually I would be expected to take over as CEO of Dudley Enterprises." He sighed, finishing his drink. “I focused on my degrees so that I can do my job properly when the time comes.”

Jane was intrigued. “You need degrees from two of the most prestigious universities in the world to run a – what, a real estate company?”

Stan laughed lightly and jumped in. “It’s not that simple, but yes. Dudley possesses an enormous portfolio of European real estate holdings. They oversee property sales, management, financing, insurance, and more. Colt has made it clear he would take his place as the company’s CEO – if the board is willing to work with him on ethical changes.”

“Ethical changes?” Susannah asked with a raised brow.

“I intend to lobby for fair housing legislation,” Guildford explained. "Boost ethics training requirements for employees substantially. Work to reduce our carbon footprint by utilizing clean energy and reducing corporate travel. I believe it’s imperative to move Dudley Enterprises in the right direction by being mindful of sustainability and the strain large corporations put on our natural resources.”

“Wow,” Jane says for the second time. “I never would have guessed you were such an environmental activist when we met at the Red Cross event.”

Guildford flashed a sly, knowing glance at Jane. She felt the blush creeping along her cheeks. “Well, we weren’t really talking about ethical business practices that evening, if my memory serves me right.”

Susannah chortled, tossing her head onto Edward’s shoulder. “You two weren’t talking about ethical anything that night. Unless you planned to shower together in the name of water conservation.”

Jane let out a sudden burst of laughter and hurled a pillow.

“Sorry, what?” Edward asked. He looked between Jane and Guildford three times, his brows furrowed. “Did you two…?”

Jane and Guildford said, “No!” They shared an uneasy chuckle.

“Almost, though,” she added, hiding her smile behind her glass. She didn’t miss the alluring desire that clouded Guildford’s features. Suddenly self-conscious, Jane stood and headed to her balcony door. “I’ll make another round in a few minutes. I need some air.”

Once outside, Jane gripped the iron railing and looked at the city below. The air was cool, and gooseflesh spread over her arms through her long sleeves when a gust of wind danced around her.

Her brain was operating on two different planes.

Half of it was occupied by Guildford Dudley’s seductive charm and chivalry. His sex appeal was undeniable, but the way he used his physical stature as her beacon of strength at Ethian Tavern showed him in a kind, protective light. How interesting that she had wanted nothing more than for Guildford to piss off just before they were blindsided by Archer, only to find his presence calming and inspiring. He made her feel strong enough to stand up for herself.

The other half of her brain, of course, was hyper-fixating on the dreadfully cruel things Archer had said. The embarrassment made her spiral. How could she have spent two years of her life with someone who had zero respect for her? Archer had always seemed a bit dull to Jane; a bit uninterested in knowing her as a person, wholly. He was not a romantic kind of boyfriend, she had told herself, but he still loved her. Otherwise, why would he be with her? Now Jane saw their regrettable relationship through clear lenses, and she wished for a time machine so that she could tell Younger Jane to run far and fucking fast from Archer Workeye.

Then there was the matter of the scene Jane caused at the bar. She remembered Archer’s words and stiffened. “I should have known you couldn’t resist causing a scene.” Her grip tightened on the cold balcony railing, and she bowed her head. Her long chocolate curls dangled over the banister.

She knew, based on reason, that she was justified in publicly lashing out at him. Her anger had been building for some time, trapped inside of her like a pressure cooker. But Jane had always prided herself on decorum and being the bigger person. Why did she let him crawl under her skin and shine a spotlight on her insecurities? Why didn’t she drag Guildford away from Archer and play him in another game of pool? Or fuck him in the bathroom? Anything other than embarrassing herself and airing her dirty laundry for everyone in Ethian Tavern.

For the first time in weeks, maybe over a month, she felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes. Her vision blurred and masked the city lights as glowing blobs.

“I’ll leave if you'd rather be alone,” came a now-familiar voice from behind her.

Jane sniffled and swiped at her face before turning to appraise Guildford, leaning back against the balcony rail.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t hear the door open.” He said nothing, simply gazing at her face in understanding. “You can stay,” she allowed.

Guildford took a chance, stepping close enough to reach out and touch Jane’s face. He didn’t, but the possibility echoed. “For what it’s worth, Jane Grey, that man is a jackass.” He swallowed thickly. Jane watched his Adam’s apple work in his throat. And he watched her, noting the excitement in her inquisitive eyes. “You deserve far more than that tactless twat gave you. He didn’t deserve you for a fucking second.”

Jane’s eyes, still shining with unshed tears, meandered from Guildford’s throat to his mouth, to his eyes. She felt… magnetic energy between them. His body called to hers like a siren song, and she couldn’t resist stepping closer into his atmosphere.

“What do you think I deserve, Guildford Dudley?” she breathed, tilting her chin to his face.

Guildford's head dipped, his lips suspended near Jane's. Their noses grazed, their breaths hitched. His fingers raised to her cheek and brushed back, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear with tender affection. He traced her jawline with his knuckles until he reached her chin, capturing it between his thumb and index finger.

“I can show you,” Guildford purred, staring into her eyes. “If you want me to.”

Jane fluttered her lashes, dropping her attention to his lips again before returning to his captivating, hungry gaze.

“I want you to,” she whispered with a bewitching smirk.

Guildford mumbled something like "thank fuck."

Then, he kissed her with an intensity that made Jane see stars.

Jane sighed into Guildford’s mouth, wasting no time before tangling her fingers into his thick, untamed hair. His tongue flicked over Jane’s lip, begging for entrance. When her mouth opened for him, he pulled away slightly to drink in her face – her slack jaw, flushed cheeks, and hazy, lust-addled eyes.

He leaned in again, slipping his tongue from his mouth to lap lazily at her bottom lip. Jane’s body buzzed, brought back to life with overflowing attraction. When Guildford’s tongue teased into her mouth, exploring, tasting, Jane’s knees went weak. She crumbled against him – but he was there to support her weight. His arms snaked around her waist, lifting her body so she could wrap her legs around him. He turned, stepping to the balcony door, and pressed her body against the glass.

She barely had time to wonder if the curtains were closed before his husky voice vibrated against her lips. “They’ve left,” he assured her. “We’re alone.” His mouth moved to her neck, his hands to her ass, groping and squeezing and cursing the denim that kept his touch from her skin.

“But you stayed,” Jane whispered with a coy smile, grinding her pelvis into his. The groan that spilled from him made her feel powerful. Sexy.

“Perhaps I was taking a chance,” he smiled, moving his lips to her neck. She gasped at the contact when his teeth scraped the delicate skin beneath her ear. “Would you prefer I hadn’t?”

“No!” she panted breathlessly. “I’m happy you’re here.”

Guildford groaned again, thrusting against Jane’s throbbing core. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I want you, Jane.”

“I want you,” she agreed before tilting her head to nibble the shell of his ear. “I want you,” she said again, whispering. She tightened her thighs around Guildford and reached a hand behind her, fumbling for the doorknob. They stumbled into her living room, incapable of keeping their lips off one another.

Jane slid her legs down Guildford’s body, planting her feet on the floor. His clever fingers flitted to her waistband, working her button and zipper. When her jeans loosened around her waist, she reached to unclasp the buttons of her body suit and peeled it from her torso, leaving her in unbuttoned jeans and a lacy, see-through black bra. Guildford removed his shirt next, desperate to feel her naked body against his. He worked his jeans while Jane shimmied from hers.

They stood before each other, clad only in their underwear, and Guildford fell to his knees.

Literally.

He wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her to him, dropping the gentlest kiss just below her navel. “You,” he kissed her again, “are stunning.”

Jane shuddered, gooseflesh spreading across her skin for a second time, but for a different reason. Her fingers returned to his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. When his tongue darted out to lick the skin he’d just kissed, she thought she might die from an overdose of pleasure.

Guildford pushed Jane barely, just enough to steer her to the coffee table. She felt the wooden table against the skin behind her knees. His hands guided her hips until she was seated on the table. She whimpered, looking down at this tempting man who grinned at her from between her parted legs.

“Can you do something for me?” Guildford asked.

Jane almost told him she would literally do anything he asked.

Instead, she swallowed and nodded her head, unable to speak.

He smirked again, tickling his fingers over her thighs. His hands moved to her ass and pulled her to the edge of the coffee table. His face was close enough to her throbbing core that she knew he could feel the heat radiating from beneath her lace underwear.

“I want you to watch me while I make you come on my tongue,” he ordered, and Jane almost came right then. “Eyes on me. Can you do that?”

Jane whimpered, biting into her lip. She gave him another nod.

“Say it,” he coaxed. “I want you to say it.”

Was death by pleasure possible?

Gulping, Jane nodded for a third time, catching herself before saying, “Yes. Eyes on you.” The voice that came from her sounded desperate – needy. Jane would usually hate that, but she found immeasurable delight from the praise in Guildford’s gaze.

If she thought she sounded desperate before, that was nothing compared to the noise that ripped from her throat when Guildford pressed his tongue against her entrance, over her panties, and dragged it up to rest on her clit. The sensation was overwhelming – his mouth, wet, against the barely-there mesh.

Even hotter, though, was the erotic eye contact Guildford maintained while his tongue flicked over the most sensitive part of her body. She cried out, chasing his mouth with a thrust of her hips. He hummed against her wetness. “Wonder if I can make you come without moving your panties out of the way.” Jane wanted to scream.

Thankfully, she didn’t. Her teeth sank into her lip and a delicious moan filled the space around them. Guildford whispered, “Remember, baby. Eyes on me.” Then he pressed his mouth tightly against her pulsing clit and sucked, pulling it between his lips.

The friction from the fabric and Guildford’s tongue was too much. She fought hard to keep her head upright; her eyes trained on Guildford.

One of his hands abandoned her ass and slid under her thigh, lifting her leg to rest on his shoulder. Next, his hand moved to her breast.

Again, through the lace, he cupped her firmly, kneading the tissue with the perfect amount of pressure. He used his teeth to tease Jane’s clit and simultaneously tweaked her nipple through her bra.

She didn’t stand a chance.

Jane yelled – or screamed – his name, tossing her head back. Her hair tickled her spine. She felt like she was floating, or dying, or reaching Nirvana.

Suddenly, Guildford’s mouth pulled from her heat. She whined, mewed, lifting her head again to peer down at his smug face.

“I thought we had an agreement,” he teased.

Chest heaving, Jane stammered, “I – I’m trying. I’m sorry. Please, don’t stop.”

“I don’t intend to,” Guildford assured her. “Let’s try again then.”

She watched, wide-eyed and focused, as he brought his fingers to the juncture at her thighs. He tickled the seam of her panties, fluttering his fingers and tracing the floral designs. Then, thank god, he slipped his finger just beneath the fabric and rested at her opening, poking and testing but not entering.

“Fuck,” he ground out. “You’re so wet.” He couldn’t resist the temptation to glide his finger between Jane’s lips, locating its target. She squealed, hitting an impressive octave, and Guildford grinned from ear to ear. “I’m going to take care of you, right here, and then I want you to ride my cock until you come again. Sound good?”

“Oh my god,” Jane choked out. “Yes, yes.”

“Good girl,” he smiled before crashing his mouth over her clit again, circling with his tongue as his finger slipped to where she wanted it most.

“Guildford,” she panted.

“I love it when you say my name.” Done with the torture, he pumped his finger expertly into her. Every gasp, stutter, and moan that left Jane’s lips felt like a gold medal. He added a second finger and she screamed out.

Her legs trembled. The one that was raised over his shoulder tightened, pulling his mouth closer to her. His free hand pushed her other thigh against the table, holding her wide open for him. Guildford regarded her as if he were a king and Jane was his feast.

When he added a third finger, Jane thought she could marry this man.

When he praised her again, husking “good girl” against her clitoris, she bucked her hips and begged for more.

When his tongue finally, finally slipped under her panties and met her clit with proper contact, she forgot her own name.

“Jane, are you here?”

That was a stark reminder.

Guildford and Jane’s heads snapped straight at the same time. Footsteps approached from the foyer and Jane panicked, pushing Guildford away and snatching a throw blanket from her couch to wrap around herself. Guildford lamely covered his erection with the pillow Jane had tossed at Susannah’s head, still kneeling religiously on the floor.

“Mother! Do not come in here!”

Twice now, they’d been cockblocked by Frances Grey.

Chapter Text

“Your mum?” Guildford was horrified, and rightfully so.

“I have company, Mother – stay at the door!”

“Well, it’s much too late for that, I’m afraid,” came France’s cool voice as she strolled into the living room. Jane and Guildford were both frozen in embarrassment, but Frances maintained an indifferent expression, raising a perfectly groomed brow and a devious smirk. “And here I thought you weren’t interested in Dudley’s boy.”

“You’re killing me!” Jane snapped while pulling the blanket tighter around her body. Guildford’s face bordered on amused now, and she wanted to crawl into a cave.

“Guildford!” Frances exclaimed. She stalked to Jane’s loveseat and sat with perfect posture and grace. Guildford, who remained kneeling on the floor clad only in his underwear with a pillow over his lap, looked to the ceiling, probably wishing for a cave as well. “I must say, I’m surprised to find you like this. Though, from the way you two were all over each other at the hotel bar, I’m not sure why it’s surprising.”

“Mum,” Jane groaned. “I need you to know that this is not normal behavior from a mother.”

“I’m aware, and I don’t care,” Frances smiled.

Guildford's throat constricted as he shifted his gaze to Jane. “Maybe I should…"

Frances blinked before understanding registered in her eyes. “Oh, don’t leave on my account! I was only stopping by to talk to Jane about you.”

“About me, Ma’am?”

Jane stood and walked to Guildford’s pants across the floor.

She handed them to him, and he acknowledged with a nod. He shifted weight, then turned to the wall to adjust his trousers.

Frances glanced at her nails, then firmly pressed a cuticle. “Katherine saw Archer’s social media – a story, I think it’s called. He made some vague comment about finding out the love of his life has committed the ultimate betrayal, and now he has a broken heart,” Frances explained, drawing a fake tear down her cheek with her fingertip. “I was in the neighborhood,” she shrugged.

Jane scoffed. “Liar.”

“Well, I was in the city.”

“You live in the city.”

“Fair. But I wanted to get the story. Quite juicy gossip, you must admit.”

Sighing, Jane put on her pants and ignored her bodysuit. She tossed the blanket back to the sofa and stood beside Guildford. She could sense him gawking at her hungrily, despite her mother sitting in the room with them.

Frances smirked again. “I do love that brassiere. Is that from Myla?”

Jane groaned and leaned to rest her head on Guildford’s shoulder. “I want to die.”

“Christ’s sake, Jane, stop being such a drama queen. Tell me what happened with Archer.”

“Nothing happened! He was fucking jealous because he saw me with Guildford, and I snapped at him. There’s really not much more to the story – and I’m not the love of his life, because he wouldn’t be ejaculating into Brazilian swimsuit models if he loved me.” Jane paused to run her fingers through her hair, exasperated. “I finally stood up for myself to that bastard and I’m not sorry. Yes, I caused a scene. Yes, I aired our dirty laundry to a pub full of strangers. But no, I’m not sorry. Archer Workeye is vile and embarrassing and I’m happy I ran into Guildford because honestly,” Jane looked at Guildford again, “I don’t think I would have had the courage to tell Archer to fuck off if he weren’t there.”

“Couldn’t you find a classier thing to say than ‘ejaculating into Brazilian swimsuit models'?" Frances grimaced.

“Couldn’t you call before walking into my home? Or at the very least, knock?” Jane countered, and Guildford snorted.

He decided to join the conversation, resting his hand on Jane’s hip. “Archer was far from heartbroken. He’s just trying to look like a victim, probably to attract attention from more women. The things he said to Jane were abysmal at best.”

“And I presume you defended her honor?” France’s question came with raised brows and a knowing look.

“I didn’t have to defend her – she had it handled. But I may have threatened to… take further action if he insulted her again.”

Jane tensed, remembering Guildford’s departing words. "Speak to Jane again, Workeye; she’ll be the least of your problems.” The blood felt warm in her cheeks, and she smiled shyly at Guildford.

She giggled and said, “Edward and Susannah backed him up. Stan probably did, internally, but I can’t picture him verbally threatening anyone.”

“No, you’re spot on,” Guildford chuckled. Jane’s eyes met his and she relished in the mischievous sparkle.

Frances, witnessing the heated looks between her daughter and Guildford Dudley, cleared her throat. “Well, your little confrontation this evening will be the talk of the town by tomorrow.”

“I don’t care,” Jane clipped with a raised chin.

“I’m well aware of that,” Frances deadpanned. “But you do have a reputation to uphold and—"

“ – No, you have a reputation you want me to uphold. My reputation in high society London means fuck-all to me. My reputation as a competent doctor is what’s important.”

“Keep telling yourself that. But you’re still wrong.” Frances stood then and stalked to where Jane and Guildford stood, half-dressed. “You do remember my seasonal line presentation in two weeks.” Jane nodded, knitting her brows. “You’ll attend with Guildford as your date,” she decided without room for negotiation.

Jane’s face flamed crimson. “You can’t just force a man to be my date, Mother! Do you realize how insane you sound?”

Frances opened her mouth to respond, but Guildford spoke first, pulling Jane to look at him. “I was going to ask you, anyway.” He gave Frances a sideways glance, embarrassed. “After… after tonight, I mean. I want to see you again and thought maybe – I wanted to ask you to be my date to your mum’s show.”

“See?” Frances smiled and waved her arms. “There’s no problem! Guildford, you’ll have to forgive Jane. She gets a little worked up and needs to be brought back to reality from time to time. Women, you understand. We can be emotional.” She waved a flippant hand, and Jane wanted to scream.

She turned to her mother with undiluted rage. “I’m emotional because I don’t want to be auctioned off like cattle?” Her fingernails dug into her palms, likely drawing blood. “Congratulations, Mother – I do like Guildford. But if I didn’t, I could choose not to speak to him, or date him, or anything with him. Because it’s 2024 and I’m my own person with my own brain and my own fucking life!” She halted, breathed in deeply, and closed her eyes for a moment before turning to stand before Guildford.

“I would love to be your date, Guildford.” Jane stood on her toes to press a chaste kiss to his stubbled jaw. “And I’m terribly sorry that the woman who gave me life is such a meddling, impolite dragon.” Guildford’s lips quirked, and he lowered his chin closer to Jane’s face. Her fingers rested on his bare chest, stroking his skin.

“I’m right here,” Frances said with a bored drawl.

Jane and Guildford ignored her, looking only at each other.

“Previous interruptions aside,” Guildford grinned, “I’m quite fascinated by you and eager to know you better. “I would be honored to go on a date with you anywhere.”

“Should I leave?”

“Yes,” Jane and Guildford both said to Frances before laughing.

Jane turned again, glaring at Frances but still grinning from Guildford’s smooth words and kind eyes. “I’ll be at your show with Guildford. I don’t want to hear about Archer again.” Frances rolled her eyes. “Now, please, get out of my apartment so we can recover from this mortification and finish getting dressed with our last shreds of dignity.”

—

“So after all that, you still didn’t shag?” Fitz stared at Jane like she had three heads, resting his chin in his palm at the nurse’s station.

Jane rolled her eyes and adjusted the waistband of her scrubs. “Sorry – has your mother ever walked in on you while a nearly naked man’s head was between your thighs?” Fitz choked back a laugh. “You try to achieve orgasm after participating in the ALS ice bucket challenge and get back to me.”

After Frances left Jane’s flat that night, Jane and Guildford redressed and exchanged superficial conversation. He showed no displeasure at her mother's sudden presence. He even kissed her lips sweetly, romantically, before walking out of her front door. But Jane had been thinking of him nonstop ever since, and convincing herself she’d never hear from him again because why would she?

I mean, would you still want to see someone who was spread out before you when their mother barged into the room?

“My mother walked in on me with a girl once when I was sixteen. I think she was just relieved I wasn’t with a boy.” Fitz’s eyes danced with his evil smile. “Of course, I was only experimenting to see if I could be attracted to women, and the results were negative – much to Mummy’s chagrin.”

Jane frowned at her friend’s attempted humor. “I’ll be your mum, then.” She leaned across the counter and dropped a kiss on the crown of Fitz’s head.

Fitz smiled affectionately. “Thank you. I’ll remember that next time I need an Uber from a stranger’s house.”

“Are the two of you done gossiping on company time, or are you just uninterested in saving lives today?”

Jane and Fitz turned to find Dr. Seymour glaring at them from across the hall.

“I just finished discharge paperwork for room 241,” Jane clarified. “Patient is stable and insists on leaving. I’m waiting for lab results for 220 now.”

Seymour’s eyes narrowed at Jane. “Why haven’t I received the scans for 270? You did order them, right?”

“Of course, sir. CT was backed up because of a multi-car pileup. ICU has been flooded all afternoon, but it shouldn’t be much longer.”

Jane wanted to shrink into herself while her superior scrutinized her. She never understood why Seymour hated her so much – she was an excellent student at university, top of her intern class, and she ran circles around her peers in residency. Sure, she had declined a date with the man, but that shouldn’t have been grounds for him to treat her like garbage.

“I see you’ve got it all figured out, then,” Dr. Seymour clipped with his dark eyes boring into her. “Maybe if you spend less time flirting with the nurses and more time being a doctor, I won’t feel the need to micromanage you, Grey. Bring me the scans as soon as they’re in your hands.” Seymour turned on his heel before Jane could defend herself.

Fitz couldn’t contain his belly laugh when Seymour disappeared around a corner. “He thinks you’re flirting with me! Does that mean I’m straight-passing?”

Jane sighed, aware of how tense her body was under her attending’s unnerving presence. “I think it just means I’m a slag,” she whispered. “I should have accepted the damn dinner date.”

“It’s not too late. You could be Mrs. Dr. Seymour.”

Jane’s day carried on the same; multiple scans to be reviewed with her intimidating boss, blood work galore, and placing a central line in a new patient for intravenous chemotherapy. Walking on eggshells around Seymour exhausted her, but her regular check-ins with Fitz kept her grounded.

Between pages in the oncology department, Jane popped into the ICU to help where she could. Her day was so full of traumas, paperwork, and lab results that she was shocked to see her shift was coming to an end. Usually, someone would be glad for so much work to make their day pass in a blur, but Jane Grey almost always wished for more time in her day – more time with patients and more time proving her capabilities.

When Fitz invited Jane to join him for pizza after work, she felt elated. They had turned into easy friends at Verity Cross, but Jane had never met with coworkers outside of the hospital. She reached a new milestone with Fitz, and it thrilled her. It helped, also, that she hadn’t eaten anything but an apple and was properly starving.

They strolled into a pizza parlor, freshly showered and changed after their shifts, and picked a table by the window. The restaurant smelled like tomato and basil, wonderful scents wafting through the open-concept dining room that buzzed with background chatter.

“Since you’re my mum now, you’re paying, right?” Fitz joked while he pulled a cheesy slice of pizza from the pie they decided to share.

Jane giggled and said, “Since my salary is higher than yours and I’m quite fond of you, I’m paying.”

Her phone lit up with a text message – from Guildford. They hadn’t spoken since he left her apartment two nights before.

“Your salary and your trust fund, no doubt.” Jane laughed at Fitz’s quip and unlocked her phone with zest. “Who’s that?” Fitz asked with a mouthful of cheese and spinach, nodding his chin at her phone.

“Guildford…” Jane’s shy smile made Fitz whoop.

“Tell me right now! What’s he saying?”

Guildford: Evening, Jane Grey. Wanted to reach out and say I really had a great time with you the other night. Even if we were cockblocked 😅

Guildford: I’d love to see you again. My brother’s birthday is tomorrow. We’re celebrating at Galvin La Chapelle for dinner, and then I’m sure the party will move to his house. I’d love for you to join me.

Guildford: Edward and Bess will be there.

Guildford: Yes, I’m actually trying to entice you as one would entice a horse with a carrot.

“He wants me to go to his brother’s birthday dinner at Galvin La Chapelle tomorrow,” Jane told Fitz.

“Wait,” he said. “Galvin? I’m going to Galvin tomorrow. For a birthday dinner.”

“Oh? Small world.”

“What did you say Guildford’s last name was?”

“I didn’t,” Jane pointed out. “But it’s Dudley. His brother, Stan Dudley, is having his birthday party there tomorrow.”

Fitz gaped at Jane. “Stan is my partner.”

Jane’s brows furrowed at this information. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t say ‘what’ – say ‘pardon’,” an old, posh woman who sat behind Jane interrupted. She turned to throw her a dirty look before refocusing on Fitz.

“Stan Dudley is your boyfriend?”

Fitz, chuckling at the eavesdropping woman’s scolding, shrugged and said, “We prefer partner. We’re not into labels.”

“Wow,” Jane breathed and reached for her glass of water. “I just thought – it’s stupid, but I thought Stan and my cousin Edward were hitting it off.”

From across the table, Fitz guffawed again and graced Jane with his perfectly white smile. “I’m sure they were. All three of us hit it off, if you know what I mean.” He wiggled his brows.

Jane blinked at him. “Not sure I do.”

“Stan is my partner more than I’m Edward’s,” Fitz explained, thrilled by Jane’s naivety. “And Edward is Stan’s partner more than he’s mine. On special days, we unite as three equal partners to celebrate.”

“What,” Jane squealed before turning to the woman behind her and saying, “Don’t.” She placed both palms on the table and stared at Fitz, who was positively giddy over sharing this information. “How did I not know my cousin was in a… what do you even call it?”

“A poly relationship.”

“A poly relationship,” she echoed. “Huh. I had no idea!” Jane felt a pang of disappointment when her cousin withheld intimate secrets. They had historically shared everything with one another. “And how in the hell have we been friends for over six months and I didn’t know you were in a relationship with my cousin!”

Fitz leaned forward, pulled another slice of pizza from between them, and placed it on Jane’s still-empty plate. “Surely you don’t think your cousin is the only Edward in England.” He looked at Jane with a face that said, “Be serious.”

“Well, that’s valid,” Jane laughed. “Thank you,” she added before taking a bite of the pizza and moaning in approval.

“Please don’t make sex noises while we eat together. I don’t want people to actually think I’m straight.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Jane teased back.

“So now that we’ve established I’m shagging your cousin and your boyfriend’s brother, you have to come to dinner with us tomorrow.” Fitz glanced again at Jane’s phone, which she had returned to the table without responding to Guildford. “Are you gonna say yes?”

She beamed at Fitz, her teeth gently grasping her lip. Then she used a napkin to wipe her fingers before grabbing for her phone.

Jane: Did you know that your brother is in a polyamorous relationship with my cousin and my coworker?

Guildford: It’s 2024, Jane.

Guildford: Is that a yes for dinner?

Jane’s laugh danced across the table, and Fitz raised his brows in question.

Jane: It’s a yes. I’d love to join you for Stan’s birthday party.

Guildford: 🥳🥳

Guildford: I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six.

Jane: Can’t wait 😇

“Now I guess I need to find something to wear to this fancy-pants restaurant,” Jane said to Fitz, still blushing from her exchange with Guildford.

“Oh, if only your mother were a world-renowned fashion designer,” he sighed with slumped shoulders and a mock frown.

—

The following evening, Jane finished applying her makeup and styling her dark curls into a low, classy bun with stylish tendrils framing her face, just as she heard a knock at her front door.

Her heels clicked down the hallway, and she took a moment to relax her shoulders and inhale deeply before opening the door for Guildford. His eyes flared, drinking in Jane’s ensemble with poorly-veiled praise.

"I didn't know what to wear," Jane hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper.

She wore a black satin and lace Dolce & Gabbana slip dress with corset detailing. It showed far more leg than Jane would typically allow at a dinner party, but it was still chic. She paired it with houndstooth fabric pumps that made those legs appear twice as long.

Guildford swallowed and husked, “You could wear a paper sack and still have everyone’s attention. But this…” his eyes roamed again, heating over every part of Jane’s body. “This is a sound choice.” Guildford finally took two steps toward Jane, closing the distance between them, and placed a searing kiss on the skin beneath her ear. “You look incredible,” he whispered.

After Jane double-checked her makeup and grabbed her purse, Guildford led her outside to his private town car. His driver, Rupert, greeted her kindly and ushered her into the expansive leather backseat. When Guildford joined her, he poured two glasses of champagne – Dom Pérignon, which made Jane giggle – before clinking his glass to hers and toasting to meddling parents.

“So you’re a doctor, which means you’re far, far out of my league,” he teased a few minutes into their drive. “What made you choose that career path?”

Jane laughed and said, “First of all, you went to MIT. You’re out of my league.”

“Don’t forget Stanford,” he quipped.

“Oh, my most sincere apologies, Mr. Dudley,” she grinned, sipping her champagne. “But to answer your question, I’ve known I wanted to be a scientist since I was a girl.” Guildford relaxed into his seat and turned his body towards hers with a small, interested smile. She said, "I loved designing these small experiments - creating theories and testing them thoroughly. It started small with herb gardens and ant farms; then it turned into raising chickens and taking advanced biology classes in school.” Jane laughed fondly at the memory of her childlike wonder.

“Then, well, my father was diagnosed with cancer. It was stage IVA adenocarcinoma – prostate cancer.”

“Jane,” Guildford offered, resting his hand on her knee. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head and gave him a tight smile. “It’s okay. It happened fast. By the time they discovered the cancer, it had already spread to his lymph nodes and... well, things escalated quickly.” Jane paused and took another sip. “I was in undergrad at the time, already halfway through my biology minor. The idea of medical school had – flashed through my mind before. But when we lost Dad, I was as sure of becoming a doctor as a bird of flying.”

Jane cleared her throat and looked to Guildford. “Sorry,” she laughed. “That was a downer.”

“Not at all,” Guildford comforted. “I want to know you. Thank you. For sharing that with me.”

The moment, fanned by sadness over Jane’s late father, was somehow intimate. Jane was fixated on this kind man who was rumored to be some floozy philanderer and found herself wishing she had never bothered hearing the rumors about him at all. His character, in her experience with him, had already proven to be remarkably honorable and warm.

She leaned closer to Guildford, whose hand was still grasping her bare knee. “Thank you for wanting me to share things with you,” Jane whispered in response.

In the dark of the backseat, no other noise besides the classical music humming from the speakers, Guildford’s eyes flicked to Jane’s mouth and hers followed suit.

“I rather enjoy getting to know you,” he said again, his voice a gravelly hush.

The space between them grew smaller by the second, but nothing about their actions was abrupt. They pulled into one another like opposite magnets – the desire to touch was palpable. Though their movements were more like two continents that wished to collide instead of two insignificant people. Each breath was a thousand years.

“I think I rather enjoy getting to know you, too.” Jane’s quiet words were meant for Guildford and Guildford alone. At this moment, she’d be content to never speak to another person again.

Guildford smirked, locking their eyes. “What would our parents think?”

She giggled. “They’d rejoice.”

“And yet I still find myself wanting to kiss you.”

Jane’s lips flamed with anticipation. She couldn’t think about anything but crashing her mouth to Guildford’s.

“Don’t you just hate it when they’re right?” she breathed.

“I loathe it,” Guildford agreed, smiling. And then –

Thank god, his lips finally captured Jane’s fervently.

They wasted no time with testing, sheepish kisses. Guildford’s tongue licked across Jane’s bottom lip for entrance and crashed against her own. He tasted every part of her mouth, massaging against her tongue and stroking the ridges along the roof of her mouth. He pulled away to suck on her bottom lip, and Jane was grateful she decided on a light-tinted lip balm instead of gloss.

She moaned into him when his teeth nipped at her plump lip and her hands moved to his collar.

Jane’s fingers played with the hairs at the nape of Guildford’s neck, and she separated their mouths to attach hers to his jaw. Peppering sweet, open-mouthed kisses along his skin made her feel powerful and in control. He groaned when she reached his ear, biting gently into the sensitive skin below his lobe.

But then, of course, the car stopped moving, and Jane and Guildford looked out the window to see the French restaurant they’d just parked in front of.

“Fucking hell,” Jane sighed, slumping against Guildford’s chest, which rumbled with his laughter. His hands spread over her back, rubbing up and down to soothe her.

“Don’t worry, Jane. I fully intend to invite you to my place tonight, where no one will interrupt us.”

She tilted her head to look at him and grinned with sparkling, lust-filled eyes. “Promise?”

—

Naturally, dinner was divine. The restaurant’s Michelin star was well-deserved, Jane and Guildford agreed.

Stan sat on one end of the table with Edward and Fitz on either side of him. Jane sat between Guildford and Bess, Edward’s sister, on the opposite side, eager to catch up with her cousin, whom she saw much less frequently than Edward.

Bess shared stories with Jane and the rest of the table about her travels abroad. She was a praised event photographer who dealt mostly with elaborate weddings and even more elaborate bar mitzvahs. Recently, she photographed an American actress's wedding in India, which was allegedly laden with cultural appropriation that only celebrities could get away with.

Edward, Jane noticed, was adorably comfortable with Stan and Fitz. He was shocked to learn Fitz and Jane worked together – to which Jane replied she was shocked to learn Fitz and Edward knew each other, and everyone laughed.

Fitz was more than happy to talk about their work relationship with the table.

He declared his title, "Janey's work husband," with a confident smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in her sexually.”

Edward and Stan cackled.

“My attending seems to think you are,” Jane laughed. Guildford’s hand was resting on her again, her thigh this time, and she was not complaining about it at all. She moved her hand to lay on top of his and laced their fingers.

“Seymour is just jealous,” Fitz laughed after finishing his cocktail. He leaned forward to look at Edward on the other side of Stan. “Did she tell you about him? Her attending? He’s a prat.”

Edward looked at Jane inquisitively and said, “No, can’t say she has. What’d he do?”

Jane groaned, sinking into her seat in embarrassment. “He’s just the worst; I promise.”

Fitz pointed a lithe finger at Jane, laughing again. “He’s obsessed with you!”

Guildford showed interest, then turned to look at Jane with a crooked grin. “Oh?”

“He’s inappropriate,” Jane sighed, glaring at Fitz. “But nothing I can’t handle. He asked me out when I was still an intern and has hated me ever since.” She shrugged.

“Because you didn’t shag him after?” Bess asked, causing the three men across from them to chuckle.

“No! I declined,” Jane giggled. “I politely declined a date with my superior. I have morals.”

“And you were still with that wanker, Archer,” Edward scowled.

“Precisely! Morals.”

“Anyway,” Fitz continued, “Dr. Seymour has been a shithead to Jane ever since. And yesterday at work, he accused her of flirting with me.” He wagged his brows at Jane suggestively. “But really, she’s just my work wife.”

Guildford’s hand stiffened on her thigh, and Jane turned to him.

“Seymour?” he asked. “As in Dominic Seymour?”

Stan beamed with recognition. “Oh, yeah! I forgot Dominic works at Verity Cross, too! Do you two know him?”

Fitz nodded, and Jane quirked her brow. “Yes, he’s my attending physician in the oncology department. How do you two know him?”

“He’s Colt’s ex’s brother. He’s a real arsehole, too. I can’t believe he’s your boss – shit luck.”

Jane blanched and looked at Guildford. “Your ex-girlfriend’s brother is my evil boss?”

He winced. “I knew he was a doctor, but I didn’t know which practice or hospital he worked at,” Guildford explained. “But yeah, that’s him. Dominic Seymour. And you’re right, he’s the fucking worst.”

“So is Mary, if we’re being honest,” Stan quipped. He looked at Jane and said, “Colt and Mary were together for a few years, and everyone in our family was thrilled when he ended it. Mary was just… a bad person,” he laughed, reaching for his wine.

Guildford nodded. “I was able to ignore it most of the time because I only saw her once every few months when one of us would travel to the other. But Stan's right: she was awful. And her brother,” Guildford shuddered. “Let’s just say, those two evil twins are exact replicas of their father. Ghastly family.”

Bess chimed in then, leaning over Jane to see Guildford. “I know of Mary from my social circles. Met her a few times. You’re too kind to be with such a wretched woman. My cousin’s a better fit for you.”

Jane’s face blushed crimson, and she glowered at Bess. “Could my entire family stop trying to force Guildford and me into a marital bed?”

Edward tossed his head in laughter. “We’ll shove you in; we don’t care.”

Guildford’s mouth moved to Jane’s ear, whispering only for her. “Do you still like me even though I dated your boss’ sister?”

“Yes,” she giggled. Then she looked pointedly at every other person at their table and added, “But the rest of you aren’t allowed to speak for the duration of dinner.”

When the six friends finished their meal, they all agreed to meet at Stan’s house for a nightcap. Guildford invited Bess to ride with him and Jane, an offer she kindly accepted. They polished off the last of the Dom and told jokes about their childhoods. Jane and Edward’s penchant for getting into trouble, and Bess's eagerness to join them instead of playing with Jane’s middle sister, Katherine, who was closest to her in age. Guildford talked about his and Stan’s obsession with football and how their lives revolved around football leagues and camps and not much else.

They parked in front of a gorgeous townhouse near Knightsbridge, and Rupert opened the car door. Stan's house interior felt warm, Jane observed, with bronze and wood accents. Stunning oil paintings adorned the foyer, which would typically give a place a museum-like feel, but here it felt like a home. Stan's compliment on Jane's interior design took on a newfound authenticity.

Guildford guided Jane and Bess to the patio, where Stan, Edward, and Fitz sat beneath sparkling lights, wine glasses raised. “The party has arrived,” Guildford announced when they stepped through Stan’s patio door.

The three other men cheered and clinked glasses.

“Janey, sit with me,” Edward called, patting the empty cushion beside him. She surrendered to his request and sat beside her cousin with a smile.

Stan beamed at Jane over the small firepit that blazed in the center of their circle. Fitz sat next to him, and Bess took the empty spot on his other side. Guildford stood away from the group to light a joint.

“I’m so glad you came out tonight,” Stan said to Jane. “Colt’s been talking about you nonstop.”

Jane flushed and turned to inspect Guildford, standing in the shadows with tendrils of smoke and the cherry from his marijuana cigarette bobbing between his lips. He shrugged at Jane, smirking. “Who can blame me?” he asked, pulling the joint from his mouth and holding it between clever fingers. “Anyone want in on this?”

Jane and Bess were the only ones who declined – Jane because of being a doctor and Bess because she hates being stoned – and the other three joined Guildford on the other side of the patio. Bess stood to take Edward’s seat next to Jane so they could gossip and talk about girl things while laughing at the boys’ silly jokes and buzzed antics.

An hour later, Jane sat between Guildford’s legs on the floor of Stan’s living room. He leaned into Stan’s chaise lounge, and Jane leaned into Guildford’s chest. His gentle fingers traced nonsensical patterns along Jane’s thighs while the blue light from some reality dating show on Netflix sprang around the room.

Jane was acutely aware that Edward and Fitz were sharing knowing glances, smirking at Jane’s position in Guildford’s lap, but she didn’t care.

Her phone buzzed on the floor next to Guildford’s hip, and he pulled his hand away to grab it for her. She saw the lock screen light up with a text from Susannah.

Susannah: looking awfully cozy with guildford dudley 👀💦

Susannah: you kids are so cute

Susannah: use protection 😘

Guildford's lips curved in the crook of her neck, reading the text. Jane flashed a pretended scowl at Edward, who lounged with Stan on the sofa.

“Did you text this photo to Susannah?” Jane chastised her cousin, holding her phone up for him (and everyone else) to see.

“Bess took the photo and sent it to me, actually,” he laughed. “But look at how cute you two are!”

Resigned, Jane chuckled and relaxed once again into Guildford’s broad, inviting chest.

Then she felt his lips at her ear and heard him whisper, “Are you ready to finish what we’ve started too many times now?”

Chapter Text

I regret to tell you, I have no idea when I’ll update again. I was in a really bad accident and it’ll be at least a couple of months until I can write. My dominant arm is fully shattered. This is rough for me because writing is my passion, and I’m currently writing my first original fantasy novel which I’ll have to neglect for a while, too.

I hope when I come back with more, you all will still be interested in my silly little stories.

Take care of yourselves ❤️ be back soon!