Chapter 23
MOLLY
We travelled here in a black SUV with windows so dark I couldn't see much of Manhattan on the way. And now we're in an elevator, going slowly up to a penthouse.
I try not to glance at Enzo. He’s staring at the floor, hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly cool and sophisticated, as always.
It’s nothing like how I feel.
My stomach feels tight. We’re going to spend the night, and possibly the next few nights, under the same roof.
I came here to walk away from him, and I’ve ended up making things worse. Now we’re stuck together, and it’s the last thing I wanted.
The elevator doors open directly into the apartment. There's no hallway. No reception desk. Just an enormous room stretching out in front of me, in all the palest colors.
It reminds me of mushroom soup.
“This is it.” Enzo looks around. Then at me. Here we are.
Just me and him.
I walk in, quickly and quietly taking in the soft rugs and furniture that look as though they’ve never seen a speck of dust. Or spaghetti sauce. I’ll have to be careful here. I’m already scared that I’ll spill something up, or break something.
I see a wall of glass that looks out over the city. “Oh wow.”
So much has happened since I arrived at the Knight offices. I keep wondering if should have gone straight to my hotel room, and forgotten about returning the mask at the Knight offices.
If I hadn’t done that, then all this madness would never have happened.
“This ... this is one apartment?”
“It is.” Enzo wanders around, like he’s searching for something.
“It’s ten times bigger than my apartment. How much does it cost to stay here for one night?”
“I don't know.”
“How can you stay in a place that you don't know what it costs?”
He shrugs as if my question is impossible to answer, then sets down his laptop bag. He didn’t bring anything else with him. Didn’t pack anything or stop off along the way.
“You don't worry about money do you?”
“No.”
I follow him as we walk around. He opens the door to a bedroom. Then walks to another room, which is another bedroom, then shows me yet another bedroom.
“Pick whichever one you want.”
“Which one are you having?” I ask.
“Whichever one you're not.”
“I'll take this one.”
I point at the room nearest to us, but I’m also in shock. This entire suite is massive and not only are there three bedrooms, but there's a huge living room, a study, a huge bathroom, though each of the bedrooms has an en-suite.
I want to soak all of this in. Have it imprinted in my memory, like I did Venice, because I’ll never stay in a place like this again.
He shows me the kitchen.
“Oh …my … days.” I blink a few times as I take everything in. It’s beautiful. Cream cabinets contrast with dramatic black marble countertops.
Enzo’s watching me. “This is probably very unsettling for you.”
“It’s like I’m on vacation again.”
He looks away.
“But I know I’m not,” I say, wondering why he’s gone all quiet again. I have a feeling it’s me. I’ve done it again, brought chaos into his life. “I promise to remain trapped in here until it’s safe to leave.”
“Trapped? It could be worse.”
“Yes. You’re right. Wrong choice of word.”
“You have to trust me, Molly.”
I swallow. “I do.”
And that’s the truth. I don’t know anyone in New York, and I do trust Enzo, because he’s all I have here.
“It’ll be for a few days,” he reminds me.
I know. I know.
One night I can do. Just about. The others, I’ll have to make myself. I’ve been through worse. At least there’s a lot of space here. We should be able to stay out of one another’s way. Which wouldn’t be the case if we were staying in my apartment.
But even though this place is huge, it still feels too intimate being here with him, under one room. I'm lucky that it's spring break, otherwise I don't know how I'd explain my absence to Miss T.
I wrap my arms around me, feeling goosebumps springing up all over my arms.
“Cold?”
I’m not cold. I’m wearing a long-sleeved knit dress. I have a light waterproof jacket, which I’ve rolled up and put in my bag. But that’s all I have. Well, that and a few days’ worth of underwear.
“I don't have a change of clothes,” I tell him. I don’t relish wearing this same dress for a few more days.
“My assistant is sending over some of my clothes. I could get her to pick some out for you, if that's okay?”
“Uh, sure. That's okay with me.”
“How about we stick to muted colors. Something understated. Something that won’t draw too much attention.”
“Muted colors? Like what?”
“Black, gray and navy?”
“Oh.”
“Sometimes white or cream,” he offers.
I scoff. “You're so adventurous.”
He looks like he’s about to break out into a smile. But he coughs lightly instead.
“Let me make that call now.” He walks away and makes a phone call, presumably to his assistant.
I walk around the apartment, exploring the rooms again, at a leisurely pace. After a while I hear him again.
“No heels.” He walks towards me with the phone to his ear, then hangs up.
“No heels?”
“You said you don't like them.” He slips the phone into his trouser pocket.
I don't like them, and I can't believe he remembered. He really does listen when I talk.
I walk towards the floor to ceiling windows and stare at the view in awe. The city lights glitter like jewels across a sky slowly turning dark.
“You're quiet.” Enzo stands beside me now.
“I'm allowed to be.”
“I've never seen evidence of that.”
I laugh. “You can be funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was being factual.”
But the corners of his lips turn up into a smile.
“You've never been to New York?”
“I'd never left Chicago until I went to Venice.”
“First time here, huh?”
“First time anywhere. I've always wanted to go to New York. And Venice was a dream, another country. I never thought that would happen and now not only I've been there, but I’m here. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up any minute now.”
I stare out of the window again as the room falls silent. It's mesmerizing, and therapeutic, to stand and stare, so high up, seeing the sea of lights below.
“Why did you want to see the old depot?”
The question I’ve been dreading, but I knew he would ask. I just didn’t expect it so soon. “I … I wasn’t sure exactly what was expected of me … for the project.”
“And now?”
I swallow, stalling for time, trying to find a sensible, believable answer.
“Now I see what you created from almost nothing.”
He nods.
“Is there anywhere you’d want to see?” he asks after a while.
I sigh, remembering the list I looked at while I was having my lunch, when my day was still peaceful. “I made a list of things I was going to do after I handed the mask back …” My voice trails off.
If only I hadn’t done that, none of this would have happened. Enzo would be blissfully unaware of my presence in this city, and I’d be having noodles near Times Square.
“Maybe you can sightsee next time,” he suggests.
“Next time?” That’s easy for him to say.
He’s assuming there will be a next time.
As if it’s easy for me to fly here and spend the weekend sightseeing.
Rent is my biggest worry and priority. After that, and living costs, I don’t have much left over.
I’d never have been able to come here were it not for Penelope’s generosity.
It proves how worlds apart Enzo and I are that he thinks there'll be a next time.
***
ENZO
In this penthouse, it feels like we’re shielded from the outside world.
For now.
Earlier I asked Molly what she wanted to order for takeout.
She looked through all the different menus, from the many different restaurants in the city, and said she was having a tough time deciding.
Forty minutes later, having watched her peruse one menu after another, I told her we were ordering room service.
We end up having pizza.
We’re soon sitting across one another at a dark wooded dining table, next to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
“What about your work?” I ask her. “Won't your children wonder where you are?”
I’ve been so wrapped up in the optics for me, for the Knights, that I didn't even consider Molly being a teacher.
“It's spring break, so it’s not a problem.”
She pulls a thin, stringy strand of cheese off her pizza. It dangles from her fingers as she’s about to take a bite.
“I'm sorry you have to stay inside.” I feel bad about it, because it does feel like she’s being held here as a prisoner, even though this is purely for her safety.
“It could be worse. At least I can stare out of those big windows all day long. It’s okay,” she insists, perhaps sensing my guilt. She looks around. “I'll never forget this suite, even if I live to be one hundred years old.”
I watch her. This is fast becoming my favorite pastime, listening to Molly, watching her.
“Why this place?” she asks.
“No idea. Rio, my older brother, he booked it for me.”
“That was nice of him.”
“It was.”
I have to say, Rio sprang into action pretty fast, even though he gave me grief before that.
Molly sighs. “I could never afford to stay at a place like this, so I consider myself to be extremely lucky.”
She has a superpower and she probably doesn’t even realize it—she can take something limiting and make it be something great.
“Something like this would cost about two to five thousand dollars a night,” I tell her, because she's been curious about the price ever since we got here.
Her eyes grow bigger. She gasps. “Two to five Two thousand dollars for a few days?”
“For a night, I’m guessing.”
“You guessing?” She stares at me. “How can you stay in a place when you don’t know how much it costs?”
I don’t know how to answer that. She lifts her pizza slice to her mouth. “That’s a lot of money. That’s almost a month’s rent in some places.”
A flicker of embarrassment hits me. I’ve never had to worry about money, or a job, or about putting food on the table.
But Molly does.
“I don't care how rich or poor anyone is,” she says, when I’m silent. “I only care that people are nice. And even though Kiki told me to look out for one a rich guy, I had no intentions of doing that. I wanted to have the time of my life, and I did.”
I smile in spite of myself. “I’m glad you did.”
She tries to extricate threads of mozzarella from her fingers.
“One of the children drew a picture of me and a prince. It was so sweet. They think I went to a ball in a palace and met a prince.”
“You did go to a ball in a palace, that much is true,” I counter. “Although you didn't meet a prince.”
“I did meet a prince.” Soft, brown eyes stare back at me. “You’re like a prince, Enzo. You have impeccable manners, impeccable dress sense. You’re the type of prince most little girls dream about.”
Her words send an unexpected rush of something warm through my chest. I don’t know why they affect me so much, but suddenly, I’m curious to know if she’s talking about princes in general—or me.
“And you?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“I don’t believe in fairytales or princes.” She bites into her slice of pizza with gusto. I immediately remember the woman in the bright canary yellow dress eating canapés and drinking champagne.
But I'm curious about something.
“What did you think of the depot?”
“I liked it. I liked how you'd restored it. I especially liked the clock.”
“Hmmmm. That old thing.”
“You did a great job. I saw the photos. Not only did you restore the clock, but you created a wonderful place for the community.”
I’m glad she appreciates it.
“Thank you. That's the vision I had in mind. It was slightly controversial at the time.”
She licks her fingers. “Why?”
I try to remember. I've worked on so many projects since then. The old depot renovation was the biggest one, and I learned so much from it, but I also learned to trust my gut.
“It was controversial,” I tell her, “because the commercial proposal was to gut it and turn it into luxury apartments, offices and high-end retail.
I didn't want any of that. I fought against it and championed its transformation into a mixed-use public space instead—something with pedestrian walkways, landscaped courtyards, restored industrial architecture and small cultural spaces.”
“That's exactly what it is now.” Molly wipes her fingers on a napkin, and picks up her bottle of water.
“The first time I visited, there was nothing but crumbling walls, boarded windows and weeds growing between the rusting tracks outside.”
“I saw that, in the old photos,” she says, nodding in agreement.
“I didn't see any of that. I saw what it could become; a place of beauty, serving a function for the community.”
“And that's exactly what you've created.”
I shrug. “Anyone could have done it.”
“Not anyone.” She shakes her head, lifts her small bottle of water to her lips and takes a sip. “You seem to have a hard time acknowledging your achievements.”
I freeze. It’s eerie how she’s able to read me so well. It’s something I'm not used to. I'm also not used to a woman being remotely interested in my restoration projects. Yet Molly seems enthralled.
“It was successful,” I tell her. “The final development wasn't luxury apartments, offices and high-end retail. It was a place the community could use. Cafés and restaurants alongside independent shops, galleries and community spaces.”
“Don't forget the clock.”
“And the clock. Luca Valizar likes the clock.”
Her eyes widen. “He's seen it?”
“Apparently, he's visited the depot many times.”
“He’s an interesting character,” Molly muses.
“He is. At some point, once things die down, I guess we'll be working on that project together.”
Molly doesn't answer. She takes another sip of water from her bottle instead.
But I find it remarkable that not so long ago, we barely knew one another, and now she's back in my life again. And this time we're sitting in a penthouse, eating pizza together.