by J. J. Bella
Chapter Twelve
The rest of the day flew by, and before Molly knew it, it was almost time to start winding down for the night. She’d had a busy day with Winnie, whose boundless energy stayed high throughout the entire day. By the time she got Winnie into bed at around nine, Molly felt ready to collapse.
Heading into the kitchen, Molly decided to treat herself to a tall glass of wine. She popped open one of the many bottles in the stainless-steel rack that was built into the kitchen wall, poured a glass, and went out onto the back deck to enjoy the cool, pleasant evening.
Molly sipped her wine, her eyes on the orange and white city lights visible from her vantage point. About halfway through her drink, the buzz starting to take hold, she heard the soft wooshing of the deck door opening. Turning, her heart skipped a beat when she saw that it was Peter.
Does he want to talk about…last night? thought Molly as he took a seat next to her.
“Hey,” he said, a glass of wine in his hand.
“Hey,” said Molly, unsure of how to act.
Should I be flirty? Coy? Blasé? she wondered, looking at Peter out of the corner of her eye.
They sat in silence for a moment, and Molly could feel the tension building between them. Part of her wanted to be bold and forward by reaching over and placing her hand on his crotch, letting him know in the clearest terms possible what she wanted. But another part of her wanted to be demure, letting him chase her, showing her that he really wanted her.
But before she could tease out her options further, Peter spoke.
“Do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?” he asked.
“No…” said Molly, figuring he was asking her out on a date, her mind already swimming possibilities of what he might have in mind.
“Good. I need you to come with me tomorrow to a meeting with the potential investor tomorrow night.”
Molly’s heart sank in disappointment.
“This is an important evening; it’s the man that I’m trying to convince that I’m a family man; the big investor,” he said, taking a sip of his wine.
Molly said nothing.
“And I wanted to flesh out the story,” he said. “And here’s what I’m thinking: You and I met about six months ago at a coffee shop in the Mission. You were reading a favorite book of mine…let’s say Anna Karenina, if they ask, and I stopped to talk to you about it. We ended up chatting for hours, followed by us having dinner at Lucian’s- that’s the place we went to last night, by the way.”
The words “last night” rang in Molly’s ears as she began to realize that this is all of that subject that he was looking to discuss.
“That sound good to you?” he asked, turning to look at her.
“Yeah, sounds fine,” said Molly, her voice dispassionate.
“Great,” he said finishing his glass and standing up. “I need to get to bed. Go ahead and pick out something nice from the dressing room- anything you want. See you tomorrow night.”
And with that, he left, leaving Molly alone.
She felt cold, her limbs numb. Her stomach was sick. Molly knew that he didn’t make any promises last night, that for all she knew he was just adding her to the list of women that he’d seduced and tossed away. But something about their evening led her to believe that it was more than that. Either way, she was not expecting him to drop in, confirm some plans for tomorrow, and leave without saying a single word about last night.
Molly felt betrayed. She looked at the glass of wine in her hand, the dark red liquid now seeming disgusting to her. Marching back into the house, she tossed the rest of the wine down the drain and put the glass into the sink.
Dark thoughts filled her mind, thoughts of walking out the door and never coming back. Going along with this charade now struck her as disgusting, and she wanted no part of it. And part of her fantasized about leaving, sending a clear message to Peter about how angry she was with him. It was only Winnie that prevented her from considering this further; she had grown to really care for the girl, and leaving her without saying a word was unthinkable to her.
Molly went up to her bedroom, disrobed, and got into bed. She fell into a restless sleep, waking up in the middle of the night. Tossing and turning for a bit, she decided that she likely wasn’t going to fall back asleep; her mind was simply racing too much with frustration. She was determined to leave Peter behind, however, but she would do it properly, with a two week's notice and a job lined up. She headed into the study, where she had been off-and-on going over her portfolio. Spending the next few hours finishing it up, she scanned her designs and uploaded them onto the computer. Another hour or so later, she had a polished profile and an up-to-date resume. Her next step was to send emails to just about every design studio she could find, figuring a hip job could wait, and that anything would do for now.
As she typed up the emails and sent them out, Molly felt tears run down her cheeks. A horrible miasma of emotions swirled in her stomach, and all she could think about was the idea that if Peter truly wasn’t going to have feelings for her, that she needed to get out before she was hurt even worse, and the thought of spending the rest of the summer with Peter, with him pretending their tryst never happened, was something her heart couldn’t bear. She had fallen for her boss, and she was paying the price.
Molly clicked “send” on the last email, then placed her head in her arms, letting the sobs that she’d been holding back all night flow without restraint.
Chapter Thirteen
When she’d cried all the tears she had in her, Molly looked to see that the sun was beginning to stream in through the open windows of the office. Seeing that it would soon be time to get Winnie ready to go, she headed downstairs and made a pot of coffee. When it was done, she went out onto the back deck and watched the sunrise, letting the fresh morning air and the strong, black coffee work in tandem to drive the sadness that was plainly visible on her face. Once her coffee was drained, she felt composed enough to go back inside and start her day.
The first half of the day flew by quickly, with her running Winnie here and there. Molly found herself checking her email on her phone constantly, hoping against hope that one of the agencies where she’d applied had already gotten back to her. But so far, nothing.
Evening soon came, and Winnie and Molly headed back home, Claude met them out front of the house, Peter having called him earlier to have him sit for them once again. After saying their hellos, Winnie and Claude were quickly off, Winnie eager to show Claude some new toys that had just arrived that day.
Molly went upstairs to the dressing room, going through outfits and trying to decide on what to wear. She settled on a pair of black slacks and a white-and-blue-striped blouse, tying her hair up into a simple ponytail and only bothering with a little makeup. She wasn’t exactly in the mood to go all-out on her appearance.
“You look nice,” said Peter, adjusting the knot of his silk, black tie in front of one of the living room mirrors.
“Thanks,” said Molly, not taking her eyes up from her phone that she was once again checking.
“You about ready?” he asked, stepping back from the mirror.
“Yep,” said Molly, her voice flat.
That Peter didn’t even seem to notice that she was upset made Molly feel even worse. And she didn’t want to consider the possibility that he had noticed how upset she was, but was simply not bothering to acknowledge it.
And the most difficult aspect of all was that she still wanted him. She wanted him desperately. As upset as he’d made her, as sure she was that she wanted to get out of this whole bizarre arrangement, all he would have to do is to tell her that he actually did care about her, and all would be forgiven. But though Molly had only known Peter for a short time, she knew that he wasn’t exactly the sort to be open with his feelings.
They left, Peter driving them to a ritzy, exclusive neighborhood in Sausalito, over the Golden Gate Bridge Molly’s jaw dropped when she saw the size of the estate; though Peter’s
place was huge, the investor’s home was a palace. A large, ornate gate opened and allowed them onto the grounds, Peter parking the car in a small lot among expensive-looking antique cars.
“Quite a place,” said Molly.
Peter nodded, looking up at the palatial estate. “Mr. Stanley is an extremely wealthy man; one of the richest in the world. This home is just one of many, and probably his most humble.”
Molly tried to imagine what the other homes of a man who considered a place like this “humble” might look like, and came up short.
As they approached the home, the massive double-doors of rich, brown wood opened, and a middle-aged couple stepped out. As Peter and Molly drew closer, she could see that the man was a handsome and trim fifty-something man dressed in comfortable-looking slacks and a bright white dress shirt the top buttons undone. The woman at his side was beautiful, with dark, full hair, a wide, open smile, and wearing an expensive-looking outfit of a shirt and blouse- she also looked to be Mr. Stanley’s junior by at least twenty years.
“Welcome,” said Mr. Stanley in a smooth, warm voice, extending his hand to Peter.
“A pleasure to see you, Mr. Stanley,” said Peter, shaking Mr. Stanley’s hand before giving Mrs. Stanley a kiss on the cheek.
“Please, Peter, you know ‘Richard’ is fine,” he said, turning his attention to Molly. “Ah, so this is the young woman I’ve been hearing so much about.”
“Hi,” said Molly, her voice low and demure.
“Richard Stanley,” he said, taking Molly’s hand. “And just like I told Peter, none of this ‘Mr. Stanley’ nonsense.”
He gestured to the woman at his side.
“And this is my wife, Tanya.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” she said, shaking Molly’s hand, her eyes going to Molly’s ring. “That is a beautiful ring.”
She flashed her own, a massive, gaudy rock that seemed to Molly to signify “money” more than “taste.”
“Nice, no?” she said. “It’s so nice that there are men like Richard and Peter who know how to take care of their women.”
“Ha, yeah,” said Molly, not entirely on board with her materialism.
“Please, come in,” said Richard, leading them inside.
The home was just as breathtaking inside as it appeared to be from the exterior. The living room was a tapestry of marble, gold, and ornate columns, a double staircase leading to the second and third floors. Molly’s jaw hung wide open as she looked around, squinting her eyes to see an elaborate design in Renaissance-style painted on the ceiling.
Impressive, thought Molly. But about as tacky as it gets.
Richard led them to a sitting room. Once the group was seated, a maid arrived, taking their drink orders. The four of them sat idly chatting for an hour or so as they sipped their drinks, Richard and Tanya overflowing with questions about the couple, wondering how they met, and Molly was happy that she had Peter’s false story to fall back on.
After a time, another maid arrived to let the group know that dinner was ready. Richard then led the group into the dining room, where they sat at an elegantly appointed table. The dinner began with delicious salads before moving into the main course of locally sourced steak and a bottle of wine that Molly decided was just about the most amazing she’d ever had- perhaps aside from the one Peter picked out for them their first dinner together, that is.
Richard kept the conversation light through dinner, and as they finished, the empty plates were replaced with fruit parfaits, the topic of Peter’s investment was broached.
“Ah,” said Richard. “I was doing so well, not talking about business at the table.”
“I’m stuffed,” said Molly, barely able to fit two spoonfuls of her dessert. “I wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air if you two want to talk about work.”
“Ah, a walk sounds lovely,” said Tanya, pushing away her parfait. “Let’s us girls go for a stroll, and leave the men to their boring chit-chat.”
“That’s fine with us if it’s fine with you both,” said Richard.
“Sounds great,” said Molly.
“Well then, shall we retire to the study for some brandy?” asked Richard, rising from the table.
“Certainly,” said Peter.
The men were off, and Tanya led Molly out onto the back patio, Molly having to steady herself, from the many drinks she’d had. The patio was an elegant, ancien regime-style terrace that overlooked their immaculately maintained, several-acres backyard, the San Francisco Bay just beyond.
“What a lovely night,” said Tanya, her voice dreamy from the many glasses of wine that she’d imbibed over the course of the evening.
“It is,” said Molly. “You have a lovely home.”
“Why, thank you,” said Tanya. “It was just recently finished. I consider myself something of an interior design connoisseur, and Richard was kind enough to just let me go wild with whatever I wanted.”
“Ah, I see,” said Molly, not surprised that the gaudy and ostentatious design of the interior was a reflection of Tanya’s tastes.
The strolled along the property, an evening breeze picking up and feeling heavenly on Molly’s skin.
“You know,” said Tanya. “It’s been years since Peter has committed to any one girl for any period of time. Richard and I were so happy to see him finally settle down. Richard says it’s unseemly for a man over thirty to not be settled own, and I agree.”
“Yeah,” said Molly. “We’re really happy together.”
“I mean, Peter went through a phase where it was just one girl after another. A model here, an actress there, an heiress thrown in for variety.”
Molly said nothing, the thought of Peter with other women sticking in her stomach in a way that she wasn’t expecting.
“But that’s all over with now that you’re in the picture. I swear, I wasn’t sure Peter was ever going to settle down after Amanda died so suddenly.”
“What?” spat Molly, shocked to hear this news.
But as soon as she said the word, she realized that the alcohol had made her loose-lipped.
“What do you mean, ‘what’?” asked Tanya, confused. “Amanda, his wife?”
“Oh, yeah, that Amanda,” said Molly, her face growing hot.
“Wait a minute, did you not know who Amanda was? How could you not know the name of his ex-wife?” asked Tonya, her tone suddenly interrogating. “What did he tell you about her?”
“No, I mean,” said Molly, stuttering. “He did tell me, but I just, um.”
The booze had gone to Molly’s head, and her attempts at thinking on her feet were resulting in her tripping over them.
“I’m going to ask you something, and I would like a straight answer,” said Tanya, stopping and facing Molly, her hands on her hips. “Is everything that you’ve told Richard and I about your relationship with Peter correct?”
Molly wanted to lie; she knew she should’ve lied. But between being on the spot, the booze, and her underlying desire to not be going along with the charade, she cracked.
The words coming out of her mouth in a messy blurt, Molly fessed up, and told Tanya everything.
“I see,” said Tanya, looking away. “I believe we should be getting back to the house.”
With that, she turned and walked at a brisk pace back to the mansion, Molly struggling to keep up as the gravity of what she had just done sank in.
The rest of the walk was in silence, and when they entered, Tanya made a beeline to the study, where Peter and Richard were seated overstuffed leather chairs and in the middle of lively conversation.
“Honey?” said Tanya, glancing at Molly while she kneeled down to whisper something into Richard’s ear.
“I see,” said Richard, his expression turning from lively and happy to grim.
Molly closed her eyes, waiting for the shoe to drop.
Chapter Fourteen
“Peter, I think you and Molly -if that’s even your real name- need to leave,” said Richard, rising fr
om his seat.
“Wait, what?” asked Peter, standing up and setting down his drink.
“Tanya told me everything,” he said. “I can’t believe you ‘d stoop to lying about your engagement in order to secure my investment money.”
“I...didn’t know what else to do,” said Peter.
“You could’ve found a woman and married her, how about that?” asked Richard. “And not just for my money, but for your own damn happiness. You can’t waste the best years of your life in a funk because of your wife’s passing, Peter!”
Peter shook his head in defeat.
“I understand that Amanda’s death was sudden and tragic, but this is simply unacceptable,” he said, his tone severe. “I may be able to look past this in time, Peter, but for now, this…business dealing is simply out of the question.”
A moment passed.
“Now, please see yourself out.”
“But-“ said Peter, beginning to speak, but thinking better of it, stopping himself after that single word.
Then he stormed out of the room. Molly’s eyes fell upon Richard and Tanya, their faces holding stern expressions that indicated clearly that she was no longer welcome.
Molly ran after Peter, who she found out front. Walked through the front door, her stomach tightened in anticipation of his anger.
“What did you tell her? And why?” he demanded, turning to Molly, his expression calm, but his eyes blazing with anger.
“I…I didn’t know your wife had died!” said Molly, her words coming out in a clumsy blurt. “Tanya mentioned that your ex-wife died, and I didn’t know what to say!”
Peter shook his head and looked away, the endless lawn stretching out before him. Molly wondered if he was realizing that keeping her in the dark about such an important detail was a mistake. Peter said nothing, his back turned towards Molly.
“And, on top of everything, I’m…starting to have feelings for you!” exclaimed Molly, forcing the words past her lips.