“Why are you over there?” she said.
He stood with his back to her, staring at the closed blinds. At length he spoke: “You should get dressed and go.”
“What” she said, confused. “Why?”
“Just go!” he roared as he turned on her.
She flinched away and then swallowed and stood up and got dressed quickly. “Fine,” she said petulantly. “I don’t care anyway. I don’t even know you. There’s no need to be so rude, though.”
She left before he could say anything else to her. She was fuming. Why had he shouted at her like that? That wasn’t normal — you didn’t invite someone into your office to do that and then shout at them. That was just rude. Then she thought about the whole situation — none of it was normal, really.
She left through the door through which she had entered and made towards the eggs. She had no idea how long she had been in there, but she knew that her mom would be waiting. She didn’t have time for this.
As she was paying for the eggs she couldn’t help but wish she was back in the office with Damien.
#
The four days passed horribly slowly. Every second seemed like an hour, and every hour a day, and every day a week, and every — she sighed. She was in her bedroom, stroking Max, when her mom came in. She sat on the end of the bed and looked over at her with sad-looking eyes.
There was a long silence. It took Molly a long time to realize that Mom wanted her to break it. “What is it?” she said.
Mom exploded like the words had been waiting just under her tongue for years: “Simon is in a bad mood.”
Molly sighed — Dad was always in a bad mood. She didn’t know what was wrong with him. He always seemed like he had a grudge, but with who and about what she had no idea. He had a good life, as far as she could tell. Plus Molly was still distracted. She couldn’t get what had happened with Damien out of her head. Who was he? That was what she wanted to know more than anything. Who the hell was he? Had he even given her a real name, or had that been a lie? Now that it was over she could see how strange it was — a random man had invited her into an office and brought her to orgasm and then told her to leave. That wasn’t normal.
“So?” Molly said. “There’s nothing new there.”
“Oh — Molly,” she said. “Must you be so casual about it?”
“What exactly would you like me to do?”
“Could you go and talk to him?”
“What good will that do?”
“Just try.”
“Fine.”
Molly stood up and walked over to her wardrobe. It was the night before the move, and the moon was full and the sky was clear and the stars burnt down. She studied the sky for a few moments — she often did this. She couldn’t put the desire into words — it just brought her comfort. Perhaps it was something to do with perspective, a reminder of the insignificance of humankind — or perhaps it was just because they looked pretty. She had no idea. Nevertheless, as she put on a t-shirt she felt a little calmer and less anxious than she had a few moments ago.
Her dad had an office at the back of the garden where he sometimes worked. She thought that might be where he was. Max padded along beside her, glancing up with his big tongue hanging out of his smiling mouth. She wasn’t exactly sure what her dad’s job was — she knew it was something to do with supermarkets and that he been paid quite a lot of money for it, but what his specific job was she had no idea. She thought about that and felt a pang of sadness. That was just one more thing that put distance between them.
She knocked on the glass door — it was cold against her knuckle, and she shivered — and her dad told her to come in. He was typing away furiously on the keyboard, staring at the computer screen like a man possessed. She sat down and waited for him to finish. After what felt like a long time but may have actually only been a couple of minutes — time seemed to stretch when she was with Dad — he turned around.
He smiled at her apologetically. “Hey, Molly,” he said. “Something wrong?”
That was the thing with family members who weren’t close — they always pretended they were. It was all there, in the smile. He was smiling at her like he was happy to see her, but behind that smile she could see he would prefer it if she wasn’t here. The smile didn’t reach his eyes — they were tired and dead and bloodshot.
She just came out and said it: “Mom said you were in a bad mood.”
He shifted in his seat and then sighed. “No,” he said. “Well — yes, a little. But it’s nothing to worry about. She worries too much, your mother. The head of the supermarket was down today and wanted to talk to me — he’s a bit of a hard-ass and was giving me trouble. I have to collate information on all twenty branches and it’s a lot of work — that’s all. I’m just a bit stressed. Once the work is over I’ll be okay.”
“Oh,” Molly said. “Is that all?”
He smiled. “Yes, of course.”
He turned back to his computer and started typing rapidly. She stared at the back of his head and couldn’t help but think that that said it all — that was her and her dad, her standing there, and him with his back turned. She lingered — she didn’t know why. She just did. Finally she spoke: “Dad — what is it you do?”
He turned around slowly, trying — unsuccessfully — to suppress a sigh. He smiled again but this one was more strained and obviously false. “You don’t know what I do?” he said.
She shifted under his gaze. “Well — um, not exactly.”
“I don’t think you’d understand it, if I’m being honest.”
“Give me the simple version then.”
“Okay — I oversee the operation of twenty supermarkets. Their stock and employees and things like that.”
“That sounds quite important,” she said, hoping that it’d make him feel good.
It seemed to work. He smiled again and leaned forward, and this time the smile looked more real. “I suppose it is,” he said.
“So, this man — the one who is bothering you. What is he?”
“I’m not sure of his exact job title,” he said. “He’s very high up in the supermarket — he works with the CEO and people like that to make sure that the whole organization runs effectively.”
“He must be rich,” Molly said.
Dad laughed. “Rich is an understatement.”
“How much money are we talking about?”
Dad made a huffing sound and rubbed his head and looked up at the ceiling. “No idea,” he said. “Much more than one man could ever spend, I guess.”
“Richer than us?”
Dad laughed. “Much richer — he could buy everything we own a million times and still have pocket money left.”
“That is a lot of money.”
“Yep — anyway, tell your mother I’m okay.”
“Okay,” Molly said. She walked to the door and then stopped. She turned and faced Dad. “I love you.”
He didn’t turn around. “I love you too,” he said — then he carried on typing.
Even though he didn’t turn around Molly was still glad that he had said it — they rarely said it to each other, and she thought it was important. It was true, too, she realized. They did love each other. They just weren’t very close. That wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Sure — it was bad. But at least he worked hard to make sure that she had everything she needed. Millions of people didn’t even have that. That was what she told herself, anyway — why did she still feel such a deep longing?
She would make him proud at college. That was the only thing she had now. She would do well at college and then he would be proud of her and tell her he loved her and give her a big hug. They were childish dreams — that was true — but they were hers.
#
When she was packing up the last of her things the next morning she came across something that she hadn’t seen in a very long time. It was her old diary, from when she was a little girl. It was pink and had “Molly’s property” written on the f
ront. She was downstairs, with boxes piled all around her in the living room. Mom was out picking up some things from the shop for the trip — the main item being a packet of sweets that she just “could not go without.”
So she had some time to kill. She opened the diary. The first entry nearly made her cry. It wasn’t because it was particularly sad. It just reminded her that today was the last day she was going to be at home. She had known that she would be leaving, of course, and she had even been excited about it, but this brought it home:
Today me and mommy and daddy went to the park. It was a really really good park and had a swing and a slide and I met a boy called Jason and we played in the sand together and had a really really good time. He said I was good at building sandcastles and I said he was too and we laughed. Jason is really nice. I hope I see him again.
Molly remembered Jason well — he had been her first boyfriend. Well — he had been the first boy who was her friend. When you were six-years-old being in a relationship with someone was a somewhat distant thing. It mainly involved saying “hello” to them at the start of the school day or holding hands. She remembered that day vividly, though — it was a beautiful day, spent rolling around in the sand and laughing. Dad had been busy some of the time on his laptop, but then he’d come and played with her. That was one of the only times he had played with her. She wished that she had more memories like that.
She opened the diary again, on a random page. It was from a couple of months later, and the writing was a little more legible:
I am really really sad because Jason and me are not together anymore and I want to be. He said that having a girlfriend is too girly and he wants to play football. I think that is not nice and I said I could play football with him but he only laughed. I don’t know why he is so mean. I wish that he wasn’t.
She laughed as she read this — and then was surprised to find tears streaming down her cheeks. She laughed through the tears, a weird mixture of sadness and happiness coming over her. She was sad because she was leaving everything behind — she was happy because she was leaving everything behind. She couldn’t explain it. She didn’t even try to think it out. She just let the tears stream and opened the diary again:
I think I don’t need a boyfriend ever again. Jason has showed me how mean boys are so now I am going to be alone forever and ever and I don’t even care! He can just go away and play football. I don’t even care. He’s a little stinky head anyway!
Was she still that little girl? True — she had not had many boyfriends. She had had a few, and she had had a couple of lovers too — but never for long and she had never felt close to them. She didn’t know why, but men just made her feel uncomfortable, like she was always about to make a mistake. Why had she let Damien — whoever the hell he was — do what he did? She couldn’t even begin to explain it. Was it just sexual attraction? Sure — that was a part of it. But she couldn’t help but think that there was more to it than that. There was a magnetism about him — literally, it’d felt like she couldn’t have resisted even if she’d tried.
It didn’t matter now, anyway. In a few hours she would be hundreds of miles away from here and would never have to think of the mysterious Damien whatever-his-name-is ever again. She put the diary in one of the boxes and sighed heavily. She looked around the living room. They had replaced their television a couple of years ago with a big plasma-screen, but she could still see the old box that used to be there — the old box on which she had watched all her favorite childhood cartoons and home-videos. The wall was covered in artsy pictures now, but she still remembered the flaky, green paint. She remembered her childhood like it was yesterday — now it was over. She realized then that she had been waiting her whole life to start living — this was it. There was no more waiting to be done. In a few hours it would be time. She told herself she should be happy — and she was, sort of.
Chapter 2
The party was raging. Her head was hazy and her vision was blurry and she kept stumbling into things. She bumped into a guy and he turned around and smiled at her — she smiled back and ran away. She didn’t want to see him. She had to get back to her friends — her new friends. There were a few of them who had come up on the same day. There was Jessie, Mark, Robin, and Andrew — and she didn’t seem to be able to find any of them. The lights were flashing incessantly, giving everything a strange, disjointed feeling.
She was drunk — the drunkest she’d ever been, she thought. She couldn’t find her friends. She bumped into someone else and then stumbled over to the bar. Some part of her knew that getting more alcohol was probably not a good idea, but that part was overruled by the embarrassment of being alone. Her thinking was that if she got drunker she would feel better about it — or she would feel nothing at all. Either way, she wouldn’t have to worry about finding her flatmates. She couldn’t exactly blame them — they barely knew each other. She couldn’t get angry at them for disappearing into the crowd. It was a big crowd — hundreds of students crammed into a small, sweaty club, all so drunk that they could barely stand.
Mom had brought her up earlier that day and — after the tearful goodbye, which Molly had tried her best to avoid — she hadn’t even had time to unpack her things before Robin was knocking on her door.
Molly opened it. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Molly — nice, um, nice to meet you.”
Robin smiled — she was a tall brunette with pretty, sparkly eyes and a kind smile. “I’m Robin,” she told her. “We’re going out tonight if you want to come? There’s a club near the accommodation which looks okay.”
Molly had agreed — of course she had agreed. It was not that she massively enjoyed going out. She just didn’t want to be the girl who stayed in the first night of college. She had felt strange putting on her skirt and tight-fitting top, but she couldn’t exactly go in her customary baggy t-shirt — as much as she would have liked to.
The barman looked at her with a hungry stare — at least that’s how she saw it. His teeth glinted in the low light and his eyes shone luminous. He asked her what she wanted twice before she registered that he’d even spoken. She told him to get her two shots — she didn’t specify what kind of shots, and he didn’t ask. He came back with two potent-smelling drinks. She downed them both and paid him and stumbled away. Her head was really whirling now. She could barely see. She was on the cusp of irrecoverable drunkenness — that point where you knew you were not going to remember anything in the morning. She already regretted having those drinks.
She stumbled onto the dance-floor with the intent of looking for her friends. The music was deafening and once she was amidst the sea of students looking for anyone in particular was impossible. They jumped and jostled and no one cared who they bumped into. People knocked each other and then turned around and started kissing — complete strangers found each other that night, amidst that sweaty, drunken mess.
Suddenly a song came on that she liked and she forgot everything — she just danced. That’s all there was for her then — the thumping of the beat and the high whine of the instrumental. She was dancing for around five minutes, not caring how she looked, when a guy came over to her and started grinding up next to her. She tried to move away, but he just followed her. She felt trapped. She didn’t know this boy, and he didn’t know her — what the hell was he doing? Why did he think this was okay? He grabbed her waist — his hands were sweaty. She could feel the sweat through the thin fabric of her skirt.
She turned on him. “Go away!” she shouted. He didn’t seem to hear — either that or he just didn’t care. She sighed and made to walk away, but he grabbed her tightly. He leaned down and kissed her neck. She squirmed and screamed out but no one heard. The music got louder and — even though she was surrounded by people — she had never felt more alone. It was just him and her, and no one was going to stop it.
He grabbed her wrist harder and whispered in her ear: “Come on, darling — just one a kiss.”
“Get off!” she cried. “Now
!”
He laughed and Molly looked around — where the hell were her flatmates? She tried to make eye contact with someone — anyone who could help her. No one returned her gaze. The music was getting louder every second and yet she could still hear her heart beating in her ears. She tried to pull away again but he just tightened his grip. He kissed her neck again, big, sweaty lips. She was about to bite his hand when he was abruptly pulled away.
Molly fell back, dazed. She bumped into a wall and then struggled to regain balance, and then looked at the guy. He was on the floor, and on top of him was someone else. A circle had formed around the two, looking on. The guy on top was pounding the other one, relentlessly punching him in the face. After a little while he got off and ran towards the exit.
He didn’t look at Molly, but he moved past her, and for some reason she felt like she should follow him. It was a struggle to keep up, and she had to use every effort to stop from drunkenly falling down the stairs, but soon they were out in the night, with the wind caressing their sweat-covered skin. He jumped in a taxi and without thinking she jumped in right behind him.
He looked at her in surprise. “What are you doing?” he said. He was shaking and his knuckles were covered in blood. There was something oddly familiar about him, his face partially lit in the half-moon light.
“Quickly,” Molly said. “We have to go.”
He nodded and told the driver to drive. The boy said that Molly should give the driver her address and she did, and soon they were speeding down the road, away from the club and the beaten would-be assaulter.
When they were free and clear Molly turned to the mystery man. “Do I know you?” she said. There really was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
My Billionaire (Trilogy)(Erotic Romance Stories) Page 2