Chapter 25
MOLLY
I get dressed in my new boring clothes.
This isn’t me. It doesn’t look like me, or feel like me, but I force myself to push past that. I return to the living room and curl up with the book I'm currently reading, and every now and then I look longingly out of the big windows. It's impossible not to.
I've spent a second night under the same roof as Enzo, only last night I couldn't sleep at all.
Breakfast changed something.
He's beginning to relax, almost like last time. He comes across as way too serious. Way too watchful. Way too reserved, but when you get to know him, he starts to open up. I saw that happen in Venice, just like I'm seeing it again now.
He's laughed. Properly laughed. And though he can seem intimidating to the point of being arrogant, the real Enzo, the one I'm now discovering, is a man who is kind and thoughtful.
I'm here because he’s trying to protect me. I'm trapped because of what happened, and there's nothing I can do about it apart from enjoy this beautiful apartment.
And Enzo isn't too bad as a roommate.
I hear him step out and go into the kitchen. My heart starts racing, and I read the same paragraph three times as I listen out for him. I glance up, and hear some clattering noises.
I wonder if I should get up and casually go over. As I’m about to set my book down, I hear him on the phone, and then I hear the study door shut, and he’s retreated into his man cave.
It’s probably better that he did. He always looks so sharp in his shirt and tie. He never rolls up his sleeves, but I find myself wondering what his forearms are like. It’s absurd that my heart has fluttered a few times when he’s looked at me.
Cabin fever.
That’s what it is.
I’ve already caused him enormous trouble.
He’s Enzo Knight, and I am Molly Dean.
This situation is temporary.
I’ll be returning to Chicago soon, and this apartment, and my days here will be another treasured memory I’ll cling to; boxed up in the same way as my night at the masked ball.
Enzo lives in a completely different universe. He lives in a world where people casually book penthouses like this.
And I’m a kindergarten teacher who likes to play Jenga alone.
***
ENZO
It's difficult to concentrate. Not because Molly’s making noise, but because everything is quiet again. And that unsettles me now.
I don't feel like working today. I’d rather spend time with Molly. I stop tapping away on my keyboard and sigh loudly before getting up and leaving the study. I tell myself I need to stretch my legs, but that’s only half the truth.
When I walk out, I see Molly gazing out of the windows and an ache forms in my gut. She probably feels like she's in a goldfish bowl.
She shouldn't.
She's never been to New York before, and it's a place she's always wanted to visit. I hang my head. Molly isn't someone who should be locked up like this.
“Hey.”
She turns around. “Are you taking a break? Want me to make you a smoothie or something?”
She always wants to make things better or easier for me. She’s always eager to help. She made me a sandwich earlier, for my lunch. I had to eat it at my desk while working.
“No, thank you.”
I slide my hands into my pocket and move to the windows. Her spark has faded and she seems noticeably different.
How many days of this will she have to endure?
But this situation needs careful handling. Things are building in momentum, and I, we, need them to die down again. I can’t risk doing anything to make matters worse. My family expects me to stay put and yet I don't want Molly to be unhappy. Or to feel like a prisoner in my world.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?” she murmurs.
“It is.”
“I could sit here for hours admiring this view.”
“Wouldn't it be better to be out there?”
She tosses her book to the side. “Out there?”
“Why not?”
“Because you said we couldn’t.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“What does that mean?” She sits forward eagerly.
“Time for you to go out and explore, Cinderella.”
She giggles. “I've already been to the ball.”
“Indeed.” Rio would kill me, and I risk setting off another media event, but not if we’re careful. “I'll take you to the not-so-busy parts of New York. The parts I like. Not the loud, touristy areas.”
Excitement dances in her eyes. “But you said we couldn't be seen.”
“We can go out and not be seen.”
She frowns, but it doesn’t seem to bother her for too long. “I don't care where we go, as long as we get out of here.”
“We won’t go to the big touristy places,” I explain, setting down some boundaries. “We're supposed to be lying low. Rio would kill me if he found out.”
She chews her lower lip. “He would, and I wouldn’t want that.”
“Indeed.”
“So how do we go out and not be seen?” she asks.
“I thought you might ask that.”
I return to my study to fetch the large package.
As well as normal clothing for Molly, I also asked Lesley for a few additional items of clothing to help us blend in.
She sent sweatshirts, baseball caps and sunglasses, but she also sent some other items that are so ridiculous I thought that she’d maybe made a mistake.
I called her, and she told me she hadn’t. She’d interpreted “make us less recognizable” rather enthusiastically.
I return to the living room where Molly is waiting.
“We have to disguise ourselves somewhat, if we’re going out.”
Eyeing the packages, she’s on her feet, wringing her hands together in excitement. “What’s that?”
“How we won’t be seen.” I take out some items and hand them to her. A sweatshirt, shades and baseball caps. I take out mine.
“Are you ... are you going to wear that?” She stares at the sweatshirt in my hands.
I don't do sweatshirts, but necessity prevails. I huff out a sigh. “I have no choice.”
Molly giggles, and it’s the sweetest sound.
“You really mean it? We can go out there?” She look out of the window.
“Yes.” If I'd known it meant that much to her, I would have suggested it sooner.
Rio can't find out.
Nor can the press.
It's a terrible idea, and yet, it’s exactly what I want to do.
We retreat to our rooms to get dressed. Ten minutes later, I walk back out into the living room to find Molly waiting for me. She looks … gorgeous.
“You don’t look like Enzo.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. I almost didn’t recognize staring back at me from the mirror. “Shall we go?”
We take the private elevator and leave the hotel. Once outside, I’m aware that it would make sense to take the SUV, but I don’t want word getting back to my brothers that I’ve left the building. So we take a taxi instead.
“Where are we going?” Molly asks as the taxi moves on.
“To a small independent coffee shop in the West Village.”
“But I've had my one cup of coffee.”
“They have ice-cream, too.”
She looks out of the window the entire time.
A short while later the taxi stops outside the coffee shop. As soon as we go inside, it’s empty. Which is what I expected. This is a quiet little gem.
This is one of my haunts. It’s where I go to disappear when I need time to myself, but still want to be in the world, not in complete solitude.
Does it mean anything that I’m showing her a part of my life?
No.
I’m bringing Molly here because that’s exactly what she needs. She goes over to the counter where many flavors of ice-cream are on display.
I order an iced coffee. The friendly guy behind the counter takes my order and barely flinches. He hasn’t recognized me. Molly orders a mango and coconut sorbet.
Very Molly-esque.
“No one batted an eyelid,” she whispers when we find a table and sit down.
“They probably didn’t give us another look. They thought we were tourists,” I whisper. “And ... this place is empty.”
“The disguises worked.” She looks triumphant.
“Wait until you see the other ones,” I mutter. I don’t know what Lesley was thinking. I quickly check my texts, the ones I’ve been ignoring from my brothers.
Rio: You good? Need anything?
Matteo: The old man’s giving an interview tonight. I’ll send you the link.
Dex: She escaped yet?
I stick a thumbs up emoji to the first two, and a rolling-eyes emoji to Dex’s. I slide my phone back into my pocket and decide to ignore it for the rest of the day. I look up and Molly’s gone over to the counter again to get another scoop of ice-cream. She chats to the guy behind the counter.
“He was friendly.” She returns a while later and sits across from me again. I look over and the owner waves at me. I nod and he gives me a thumbs up.
“He recognized you,” Molly says.
“It would appear so. This isn’t really a disguise.”
“Even wearing different clothes, we still have mannerisms, and isms,” she remarks. “Things that give away who we are. You must come here often, and that’s why he knows its you.”
She’s right. She looks around the empty place. “It’s nice and quaint in here. I like it.”
“It’s one of my favorite places.”
“And you brought me here. I am honored.”
“I brought you here precisely because it’s mostly empty.”
“Can’t you let me have the win?”
“Fine then. I wanted you to see the place where I go to hide.”
“You like to hide.” She points her spoon at me. “I figured that about you. You like being invisible, and left alone.”
“Are you psychic now?”
“Maybe.” She takes a scoop of her sorbet. “Want to try some?”
“No thank you.” I notice that she has a dot of yellow sorbet on the side of her mouth.
“You have some …” I point to my own lip. She licks her lip, but misses the yellow spot. I reach across, instinctively, and wipe it with my thumb, brushing the soft skin beside her mouth. She stills. And so do I when I realize what I’m doing.
“Thanks,” she says breezily, and takes another scoop of her sorbet.
My thumb tingles from the touch, and it’s only when I sit back that I see the napkin I’m holding in my other hand.
We sit for a while before I suggest that we leave. As we walk along, and I try to hail a taxi, Molly slows down and stops outside a bookshop. She presses her face up against the window, looking inside.
“Do you want to go in?” I ask, looking at the display of books she’s staring at.
She shakes her head. “No. No. We should get back. You’ve got work to do and I don’t want to get you in trouble. “
But the way her gaze fixes on the window display, it’s obvious that she wants to go inside. She’s only saying no because of me.
“You’re not trouble … I mean, you won’t get me in trouble.”
“No.” She sounds determined. Even though her expression says something else. “We need to get back, before your brother finds out.”
She’s been trying not to ask for much, and she’s been putting my needs before her own.
She wants to go into that bookshop, and she won’t. She’s spent the day adapting to my world and that is a rare thing. Rarer still because she expects nothing in return.