Chapter 43
ENZO
I get off the phone call from Penelope. This was something I didn’t know about. Molly hasn’t said a word.
I’m about to head into my press conference, so that timing of this call is most jarring.
“What is it?” she asks, coming up to me and placing her palm on my blazer.
I can’t lie to her. Or stall. It always has to be the truth between us.
“I got off a call with Penelope.”
She steps back, perhaps sensing my tone. “Then you know.”
“Why?” I need to hear it from her.
“Because of you.”
My chest tightens. “But why?”
I step towards her. She looks up at me with apprehension.
“I'd already brought so much chaos into your life. I thought walking away was the one thing I could do to give you some peace.”
“Molly—”
She touches my arm. “I didn't want to hurt you again.”
I cover her hand with mine. “You're the most stable thing in my life.”
Her eyes lift to mine.
“You bring me joy. You bring me warmth.” I swallow. “I can't imagine my life without you.”
“We’re ready for you, Mr. Knight,” a member of the Knight Media communications team says from the doorway.
I bend down and press my lips against Molly’s. “Wish me luck,” I whisper, letting her sweet scent waft over me.
“Good luck.” She kisses me back. She’s wearing something absurdly muted. A dress and blazer that are not her signature colors.
“You are positively a parsnip,” I tell her.
She giggles.
I hate publicity. I hate telling people anything about my life. I hate being under the spotlight, and what I’m about to do now is one of my worst nightmares, but I need to do this because remaining quiet is no longer more important than Molly.
She stays with the communications team in the wings, safely out of sight of the cameras. I adjust my cufflinks, smooth down my tie, take a deep breath, and walk out.
At my insistence, Knight Media put out notice of the press conference only a few hours ago, but judging by the wall of cameras facing me, that was more than enough time. Every major outlet that has spent the past few weeks tearing apart our lives seems to be here.
My heart starts hammering inside my chest. I look out over dozens of journalists and cameras, then glance towards the wings where Molly stands to my side, in the shadows.
But I can see her.
And she calms me.
“I want to keep this brief. I'd like to set the record straight. Any suggestion that Molly Dean is a gold digger is false.”
The room falls quiets. I look around as I speak, but my gaze always goes to Molly.
“She did not engineer what happened in Venice. The footage was never intended to be made public. She didn't manipulate me. She didn't use me, or pursue me.” My eyes hold hers. “We chose each other.”
Her lips wobble, and I can tell she's overcome with emotion. I force myself to look away.
“Molly is a kindergarten teacher. She loves her job. She loves those children. And she was prepared to walk away from a project we were working on together because she thought it would protect me.”
A ripple moves through the room.
“So I'm going to make this very clear. Molly Dean is not a gold digger. I will not stand by while she's blamed, harassed or punished for something she didn't do. She is kind. She's loyal. And she's an exceptional teacher.”
A murmur cascades around the room. Cameras click.
“There's something else I want to say.”
A hush immediately falls.
“My family has a past. Mistakes were made long before Molly Dean entered my life. Those mistakes were made by people who should have known better. Molly had nothing to do with them.”
I pause, because this is the part I've spent most of my life avoiding.
“For a long time, I believed silence was the safest thing. That if I didn't talk about something, I couldn't make it worse.”
My heart jackhammers in my chest and I glance off stage to Molly. She presses her lips together, like she’s trying to compose herself.
“I don't believe that anymore. Whatever happened in my family belongs to my family. It does not belong to Molly Dean.”
I look out at the sea of faces.
“That's all I have to say.”
A PR person immediately steps forward. “Mr. Knight will not be taking questions.”
The room erupts.
I walk back, avoiding the journalists, to find Molly there, waiting for me. Her face is flushed.
Her eyes shining.
We hug one another.
“I love you,” she says.