Chapter 21
ENZO
“Maybe this is about succession?” Dex wonders aloud.
Rio scratches his beard, looking doubtful. “Nah. He’d never.”
Jett sniffs. “He’d need to be carried out of these offices in a box before he relinquishes control.”
“Maybe it’s about the upcoming earnings,” Zach offers.
Matteo rocks back in his chair. “Maybe.”
“What do you think?” Rio looks at me. I don’t have an answer because I’ve been distracted.
We're all gathered around the boardroom table, Father's chair at the head still empty.
“It could be about investor confidence,” I reply. Scouring through headlines, this is the topic that’s recently jumped out.
Father walks in, slamming the door shut behind him. He throws a pile of newspapers and magazines onto the table.
“Ouch.” Rio’s voice is low but everyone hears. “Someone’s not happy.”
“Are we talking about succession?” Dex asks, and each of us sit up, staring around the table, in shock.
He actually went there.
“Don't kid yourself,” Father snaps. “I plan to be here for many, many, many years. Thanks to Matteo.” He turns to Matteo. There's no smile, just a very subtle nod of acknowledgement for what Matteo has done for him.
Father sits down, a little stiffly, I notice. My gut tightens when his gaze settles on me.
“While you provided every journalist in New York with a reason to dig into our lives, they’ve discovered that I’ve had surgery, and now they’re finding out that my kidney issues were serious enough for one of my sons to donate his kidney to me.”
His face turns a shade of red that scares me. I decide to remain quiet rather than drawing his ire any further.
“Matteo.” Jett’s eyes turn ice cold. “How hard is it for you to name the son who saved you?”
Matteo shakes his head, as if he wants to dial the temperature down.
I do too. “Let's keep calm,” I suggest.
Father starts again. “I don't want something as inconsequential as my health affecting the markets—”
“Your health isn’t inconsequential,” Jett interrupts. “You were probably going to die had Matteo not kindly offered his kidney.”
“I'm not dead yet, and I plan to be here for many, many years.” Father bangs his fist on the table and we all jump.
“Questions are being asked about my ability to continue running Knight Enterprises.” Another bang. “Upcoming earnings make uncertainty particularly unwelcome and institutional investors want reassurance.”
“The easy stuff, then,” Rio remarks. “So we do need a credible succession plan—”
I glare at him. Can't he see that Father looks as if he's about to burst a blood vessel?
“I'm not going anywhere.” Father lets out a loud sigh. He's usually controlled and restrained. No show of emotion, no physical outbursts.
“That's not what a succession plan means,” Jett says.
“Investors want to know that the company survives if you don't,” offers Rio.
Jett adjusts a cufflink. “At some level you must know that you're not immortal. You won't live forever.”
Father's mouth purses into a hard line.
“Okay.” I stand up abruptly, because if Rio, Jett and Dex continue like this, Father will have a heart attack, or something. “Let's tone down the hostility.”
“Remember, you've only recently had major surgery,” Matteo reminds him.
Father lowers his head. He's thinner than before, and he looks pale and tired, like he's aged. Doctors have told him to take it easy but he's ignoring them in his usual way.
That's why I worry about him.
Someone has to. Seems like it's only me and Matteo who that these days.
“Don't make me regret giving that kidney to you.” Matteo fingers the chain around his neck. “Have some respect for it and be grateful for another chance.”
Father scoffs. Then, “What about the other problem?” he asks. “The one that stirred up all this goddamn interest? We still have the media camped outside the building. I can’t tell if they’re there for me or you.”
His head snaps in my direction. We still have a few satellite vans, huge security barriers and some journalists permanently camped outside, albeit in reduced numbers.
It could be because of Father’s health more than my trip to Venice, but my insides twist at the sight of them. Even with fewer of them out there, I can't relax. We all turn to the tech wizard. Matteo pulls out his phone and taps away.
“The video is losing momentum. Search traffic is down. It's dropping in rankings.”
I sink back against the back of my chair in relief.
The madness is dying, and my family is safe. Mama is safe.
And Molly?
I frown, at the memory of her. I don't know what to make of Molly. Of her working with me on—
There's a hard, urgent knock at the door, and the Head of Security, Zlatan, steps in before my father tells him to.
“I'm sorry to interrupt you Mr. Knight—”
“We’re in the middle of an important meeting,” Father snaps, cutting him short. “It's highly confidential.”
Zlatan appears to hesitate. “Sir, we have a situation downstairs with the media.” He shows Father something on his cellphone. “This is the live security camera feed, sir. This is happening outside the building right now.”
Father looks at it. I can hear a commotion.
“What’s going on out there?” Jett asks. We all strain to look, but can’t see a thing.
“We’re not sure how to handle it, sir. There’s a woman downstairs asking to leave something for Enzo.”
The words fall to my ears but they don’t make sense. I slowly sit upright, trying to process what I’ve heard.
“Who?” I ask.
“Molly Dean.”
Molly Dean.
The one and only Molly.
Here in New York.
I feel the heat of everyone’s eyes on me.
“Who the hell is Molly Dean?” Father yells.
“The lady in the orange dress,” Zlatan replies.
I rush over and grab the phone out of Father's hand. That’s when I see her. It would be impossible not to. Molly’s in a bright orange dress. Yellow sneakers.
She texted a few days ago, and I didn't reply.
But what the hell is she doing here?
Relief, shock and happiness war inside my chest. The heaviness that's been sinking inside me, vanishes.
She's here.
Behind her I see the journalists and photographers with their telephoto lenses. The security gates look like they're going to give way.
“Why didn’t you let her in?” I yell, before rushing out.
Father shouts at me, “Where are you going, boy?”
But I’m at the elevator, jabbing the button to summon it. The elevator arrives and I rush inside, jabbing the buttons to the ground floor. It seems to take forever.
What is Molly doing here?
Not just in New York, but here, outside our offices?
What was she thinking?
Knowing Molly, she probably wasn’t.
As soon as the elevator gets to the ground floor, I race across the lobby to the revolving doors and make it outside. I see the flash of orange first. She appears to be arguing with the security guards.
She wants to leave, but they won’t let her. I race towards her and the crowd surges. The journalists behind the security gates roar. There’s a flash of lights. Molly looks scared and I'm scared for her.
“Leave her!” At once I’m by her side. “Molly.”
I wrap my arms around her and she falls against me, her body fitting perfectly against mine. “Molly,” I murmur, my chin presses down on her hair and I breathe in the flowery smell of her shampoo.
“Are you together?” someone shouts, pulling me roughly back into the present.
“Care to comment, Mr. Knight?”
“Nice video of you both dancing in the moonlight.”
My blood freezes. Molly and I exchange worried glances. Dancing in the moonlight? That was in Venice. How did this footage come out?
I push the thought away and grab her hand, determined to get her to safety.
Someone shouts something I can’t make out. Someone else leaps over the security barrier and races towards us. The other journalists surge forward. I'm temporarily blinded by flashes as I take Molly’s arm and pull her inside.
They've got what they wanted. A photo of me and Molly. We’re not even together but that's the picture they want. The rest? They’ll fabricate some crazy story, but this media interest isn’t going to die down. Not now.
“What's going on?” She’s visibly shaking.
“She's with me,” I snap as another security guard steps forward. I get her inside the elevator, desperate to get her to safety.
The elevator doors shut and soon, it's only me and her.
My heart pounds. Her breathing is loud and fast. I look down and see that we're holding hands. I don’t let go. She looks shaken, her face white, her body trembling.
I face her. “You're okay. I've got you.”
She nods, but she’s still shaking. She lets go of my hand and leans back against the wall. Her eyes are closed.
She's no longer the vibrant person I'm used to. I place my hands lightly on her shoulders.
“Hey,” I whisper, softly. “You're going to be okay. I'll keep you safe.”
She opens her eyes and looks at me. “Thank you for saving me.”
“I had no idea you were even here. Why are you?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Penelope booked my flight.”
She’s here because of Penelope.
Not because of me.
“But what are you doing here?”
She pauses before answering.
“Penelope wanted to show me the depot.”
The elevator doors spring open and I beckon for her to step out.
“Where are we going?” She sees the views of Manhattan as we cross the hallway to my office.
“To my office.”
“It’s so high up.”
“Yes.”
I take Molly into my office and shut the door. I take a big breath and feel my body relaxing now that we're away from the madness and danger. She stands in the middle of the room, looking around.
“This your office?”
“It is.”
She whistles. “It's bigger than my—” She stops talking like she's realized where she is, like she's trying to be a different version of herself.
“You wanted to see the depot, but what are you doing here, Molly?”
“I… I came to return something.”
She rummages through the enormous bag, leaving me completely baffled. Then she pulls out my mask. The one I wore at the masked ball in Venice. I thought I’d left it in Venice.
She had it all this time? And she brought it here all the way from Chicago?
“You came to give me this? Why didn’t you give it to me when we next met?”
“I was here, anyway, so I thought …” She doesn’t finish her sentence.
And now I’m wondering why Penelope needed to show her the depot. Why Molly needed to see it.
“I saw what you did with the old depot,” Molly says, as if she’s read my mind.
I shake my head dismissively. “I didn't do it.”
“Yes, you did.” She nods. “You did that, Enzo. Don’t try to diminish it.”
I run my fingers over the mask and that evening in Venice immediately resurfaces in my mind. I remember Molly in her vibrant yellow dress. Molly with her crooked eyelashes. Molly and her canapés.
“You see the beauty in things,” she continues. “How you brought that space to life …”
“It’s no big deal. You do one development and the others just get easier.”
She surveys me. “You should acknowledge your victories, Enzo.”
I don’t say a word, but I can’t help thinking how unsettling this must be for her. But now that she’s here, I can't leave her to fend for herself.
I walk over to the window and look down. The crowd outside seems bigger. We’re so high up, I can’t see much, but I can see there’s a mass of below. I can just about make out the security barriers.
It's still crazy out there. I thought this had died down, but Molly coming here will re-ignite interest.
“Did you hear what they said?” I ask her.
Fear creeps back into her eyes. “Dancing in Venice …”
We stare at one another as the realization hits. Another video is now circulating, and this time it has both of us. A video one of the onlookers must have taken. I was so absorbed in the dancing that I didn’t even notice.
The door bursts open and I look up to see Father's face as he storms in. He's followed quickly by the rest of my brothers.
“We had a board meeting!” he cries. “The company is dealing with a media crisis and you go running out, for what?”
He stops just short of Molly, his eyes going over her from head to toe like he doesn't know what to make of what he's seeing. “What is this?”
“This is … Molly.”
My gaze bounces between my brothers in their dark bespoke suits and Molly standing there like a rich sunset glowing in the middle of my office space.
“What in God's name—” Father starts to say. Then, “Is this her?” His tone is full of such derision, it makes me flinch. I position myself between Molly and Father.
“Don't be so rude,” Rio says.
“Hi, I'm Molly.” Her voice comes out from behind me, a little timid. A little shy. Unfortunately, she’s completely failed to read the room, or my father's expression, or his tone. She moves to my side, then wipes her hand on her dress before holding it out for Father to shake.
He doesn’t take it.
I grit my teeth, feeling bad for her, for this situation.
“What’s that, dude?” Rio asks, staring at the mask in my hand.
It’s too late to even hide it.
“I wanted to return it to him,” Molly explains.
My brothers snigger.
Jett sighs. “You've got to be kidding me.”
“Dude, dude.” Rio's laughing so much he can barely talk. “A mask?”
Dex chortles, arms folded, the widest grin on his face. Zach stares at it in disbelief.
“Back to the boardroom,” Father orders, and leaves, but no one follows him.
“Enzo?”
I don't like the way Matteo says my name. He turns his cell phone around to show me. It's a video clip of me and Molly dancing outside the Doge's Palace.
Molly steps closer and gasps. “Is that ...?”
Dex comes over and peers from the side. “You didn't!” he cries. “Oh brother, you really did put on a show.”
Rio peers at the screen. “Dancing, outside?” He looks at me. “You told us nothing happened.”
Matteo’s face turns serious. “The view count is climbing by the second.”
“Where did that come from?” Molly asks me.
“I don't know.”
“Doesn't matter.” Matteo doesn’t sound too pleased. “It's everywhere.”
It hits me then, why the journalists went crazy when they recognized Molly. This story has exploded all over again, only this time, Molly is in the frame.