Mrs Darcy Novels & Stories

“Your father has always been able to get you anything with his money and influence… except the skills to beat me and a new mom.” “What?” Darcy’s blue eyes darkened with latent fury. Milena tilted her head, glad to have found something to get under Darcy’s skin. “All the money in the world couldn’t get a single woman to marry Alpha Grayson and raise his little…children.” I immediately nudged her with my elbow. “Stop it.” I mouthed. Darcy was sitting very stiffly in her chair. The other group members had already noticed the anger she was radiating, and were watching with bated breath.

she said and winked at me. "Oh no no... it's alright. It's very nice meeting you Mrs...... ??" I said giving her a smile but stopped cause.... 'Why do I always forget his surname?' I scold myself! "Rochester" Daniel reminded me. "Aahh yes-" I was cut off by Mrs. Rochester. "Oh no dear. I want you to call me Darcy. Mrs. Rochester is too old for me. Makes me feel old. You'll understand when you become one and people call you that" she said trying to hold her laugh. Making Daniel and I choke on our saliva.

Damien's mother said, as she pulled Damien outside the door, leaving me and the five maids alone. I remained my chin high, and said in a gentle tone, "Why don't we introduce ourselves first? Greetings ladies, my name is Charlotte Hayes." "That last name won't last though," the 2nd maid said, a cheesy joke coming out from her mouth. Three of them started laughing, like a giggle.

, Darcy whined as she let out a sob. She couldn't understand why her mother was not bothered about the little cut on her palm, she didn't care to know if she was okay, she didn't care about her at all, all her mother cared about was the broken plate. Darcy’s mother's reaction to the broken plate and her apparent lack of concern for Darcy’s well-being was influenced by the tense dynamics in the household and, like everyone else in the family, she was aware of her father's unpredictable and explosive nature. This created a dark cloud of fear and anxiety over her.Avoiding his anger and maintaining a fragile peace which had become her top priority was successfully ruined.

Maxima Davenport didn’t know it yet, but she’d just become the answer to his desperate request, the perfect pretender… She was about to become his perfect fake “Mrs. Right”.

What happened, Bill? "Collins won't trouble you anymore." Darcy lowered himself into a chair, taking a conscious effort to keep his voice steady, pulling out a cigar from his case. "I frightened him, and he's the sort who quakes fast.". She slipped into a white evening dress, simple but devastating, and Darcy felt the sharp tug of desire. She was more dangerous in innocence than in sequins. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, smoothing the dress down, eyes lowered.

Darcy ignored Eva’s theatrical performance and tinkered a wine glass that he just took; He didn’t have the patience for this vicious woman’s brainless acts. “May I have your attention?” Darcy swaggered to the centre with his hands snaked around Grace’s waist. Everyone’s attention followed Darcy and Grace. Marcus quietly walked beside his parents. “Let me clarify” Darcy wore a charming smile on his face as he faced his guests “I, Darcy Walter, have only ever loved one woman in my entire life and that woman is in my arms, my wife, Grace Kingsley.”

"Well, well, well," Darcy drawled, her polished red heels clicking loudly against the floor. She held a glass of champagne in one hand, her eyes sweeping over the table with a mix of amusement and venom. "Look at this cozy little gathering." The warmth of the room instantly vanished, replaced by a suffocating tension. My father immediately dismissed the tense waitress, so she wouldn't be faulted for my aunt's intrusion. Darcy was the mirror image of my mother, same sharp cheekbones and the exact same knack for dragging chaos into every room she walked into.

An old woman with gray hair, dressed in a neat black dress, walked out quickly, a ring of brass keys in her hand. When she saw the figure stepping out of the car, her steps stopped dead. She stared at Darcy's face, her gaze unavoidably dropping to the open collar of Darcy's coat. The deep red mark at her neck, still carrying Asher's unmistakable Alpha scent, was stark in the northern cold wind. The old woman froze on the steps. Her fingers clenched hard around the keys. After several seconds, she forced out a voice. "...Miss Thorne?" Darcy steadied herself on the gravel and met her eyes. Her tone was flat.

Somewhere near the dessert course, Daniel excused himself to take a call that didn't ring on any phone I could see him holding, and I found myself alone at the edge of the room with a glass of champagne I hadn't touched. "You look like someone trying to remember if she's allowed to enjoy herself here." I turned to find a man about Daniel's age, dark suit, no tie, the kind of calm, unhurried attention that reminded me a little of Helen Reyes's office. He didn't look like the rest of the room. He looked like he was watching it from slightly outside, the same way I was. "Is it that obvious?" "Only to someone doing the exact same thing." He extended a hand. "Marcus. I work in investment, mostly.