Archive of Our Own ^beta

Late night soirée. Drink, laugh. Play the buxom brunette. Find her target, make her move, get out.

Easy.

The villa patio sparkles, glitters even—Gatsby himself would be envious. Tea lights and pillared candles litter every corner and edge every step leading out to the grounds.

Fire hazard, much?

Darcy smiles despite herself. She wants to hate the idea of this, of all of this. But man, oh man, she really does love it.

And there, across the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns—target acquired. His silhouette gives him away, if he lives through this evening, she’ll give him pointers for next time.

She slinks up to him, hips swaying as she stares him down with a smirk that speaks of sin.

“What’s your name handsome?”

“Uh, Jimmy.” He stuttered. “M’name’s Jimmy Dobyne.”

Jimmy looks down at her with a boyish grin and, damn, her heart flutters.

If we were alone, I would so corrupt him right here, right now.

“Jimmy?” Darcy chuckles. “You don’t look like a Jimmy. Maybe a Grant. Maybe even a James.”

His eyes go wide and he tries to hide it, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Nah, t-that’s me.”

He hands her a glass, tentatively waiting and watching her, hoping to follow her lead.

“Been to many of these parties, Jimmy?”

She sips at her champagne.

He shakes his head and takes a sip, grimacing slightly.

Playing coy? Oh, this is going to be fun.

Conversation flows easily—as long as she leads it.

Sighing behind her glass, she’s decides now is as good as any.

“Have you seen the fountains?” She nods to the grounds and the immaculate hedges that lead to several extravagant fountains.

“Not, not yet.”

He looks at her quizzically, but she swears she sees something dark flash in his eyes.

“Let me show you.”

She takes his arm, wrapping her hands around the muscle of his bicep.

Even if he doesn’t seem like a fighter—he’s built like one.

Gravel crunches beneath their feet, the breeze warm and smelling sickly sweet of summer. They turn a corner, both eyeing the fountain, both poised to strike.

Jimmy slows to a stop, lifting Darcy’s chin with two fingers. “I know why you’re here.” His voice deep—stutter gone.

“You do, do you?”

Darcy’s stance is defiant, strong—it stirs something deep within him.

“I’m so glad you decided to show,” He chuckles, the warmth from his breath on her neck sends a shiver down her spine. “Woulda died of boredom had it not been for you.”

Darcy’s smile gives her away—she’s been waiting for the moment he’d break character.

“Thought I’d make Tony’s party a little more interesting, Stevie.”