As the evening rolled on, the dinner was served—so much food that Molly swore she’d burst out from her dress. Connor loved watching how she chatted with the other people at the table, engaging, giving them all much room for thought. Molly was not only beautiful but intelligent. He truly had struck gold with her.
“Don’t you ever get frightened working late at night? The streets really aren’t a place for young women,” Claudia Vanderbilt asked. Another lady of luxury, who just so happened to be intrigued by Molly.
“Not at all,” Molly responded as she stirred the milk in her coffee. “We face risks every moment of our lives. If the boogeyman is going to get you, it doesn’t make a difference if it’s day or night.”
Murmurs of agreement told Connor that she had more than wooed them. Connor rested his arm on the back of her chair as he observed her demure presence. He’d never seen her so stunning. Yes, she was always stunning to him, but right then, in that moment, talking away to people she’d never met, nor had anything in common with, made him fall deeper in love with her.
“You are an incredible young lady,” Claudia remarked. “You must allow me to make a donation to the shelter. God knows our city needs more vigilant people like you.”
Smiling, Molly sipped at her coffee, not noticing the glare she was receiving from a few tables away.
Connor caught Marissa’s daggers. He could see the jealousy permeate from every pore. She may have been something to look at, but underneath all the makeup and false bravado, she was ugly.
Marissa caught him staring and gave him a coy smile in return.
Turning his back on her, he wrapped an arm around Molly’s shoulders as the first of the auctions were about to take place.
Eleanor took to the stage, the spotlight brightly shining down on her. This was the shit she lived for—being the center of attention.
“Well, I certainly hope you enjoyed that delicious meal, because we have some rather splendid things in store for you all,” she gushed into the microphone. An applause erupted, and she nodded, absorbing the adulation, whether it was genuine or not. “We all know how important this cause is for our family, more so, my dear father-in-law, John Senior. We tirelessly try our best to raise awareness and funds to continue in the hope that one day we can eradicate illnesses that blight so many of us. So from me, and the entire Ellison foundation, thank you.” Another round of applause erupted, then it was down to business. “So, for the first auction, we have had the pleasure of a lovely donation by the fabulous Vanderbilt family. For a week-long stay at their family ranch in Colorado, you get a personal cowboy—yes, I said cowboy—training from one of the best rodeo experts today, Ray Holborn. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to unwind, get back to the basics and learn how to run a ranch. Bidding starts at ten thousand dollars.”
This was the part of the event that got ears pricked, mouths salivating and money dripping as they fought arduously for the best prizes going.
“Things will get nuts,” Connor whispered into Molly’s ear.
“I can only imagine.”
The evening went by in a haze. So much money was being thrown at offers that no one could stand the chance of another outbidding them. Eleanor beamed as they reached their target of three million dollars in less than two hours. Which was a record.
The band played good music as everyone danced, celebrated, rejoiced in their shared love of all things grand and expensive.
Connor swayed from side to side with Molly in his arms. They didn’t have to say a thing to each other. Their closeness was proof of how much in love they were.
“Guess what?” Molly whispered into his ear.
Rubbing his lips against her cheek, Connor asked. “What?”
“I’m not wearing any panties.”
Connor was both surprised and aroused. The mere words alone were the sexiest thing she’d said all evening. He wanted her. He needed her. He craved her touch and there was only one thing for it.
Connor grabbed Molly by the hand and they slipped out of a little side door, no one noticing their hasty exit. They were like two lovesick teenagers in the throes of a new relationship.
Connor pulled Molly into the ladies’ restroom, taking a sneaky glance to make sure it was empty, and just their luck, it was.
Closing the cubicle door behind them, Connor pulled at the hem of her dress, lifting it as their kiss intensified. Hot, wild and hungry. Running his hands over her bare buttocks, he couldn’t hide his need for her a moment longer.
Molly slipped her hands down, unzipping his trousers. Reaching inside, she released his erection, gently stroking him.
Connor groaned before he kissed her again. Sliding his hands down over her breasts, down her sides, over her hips and in between her legs, he touched the place he wanted. As he circled around her clit, Molly let out a gasp into his mouth.
Pushing his trousers down with urgency, Molly lifted one leg, wrapping it behind him. Pressing himself against her, he lifted her as he pushed himself inside her. She was incredibly hot and wet as he began to move in and out of her. Her sweet breath brushed against his ear as he began fucking her.
Molly let out a series of moans, each one getting louder with Connor’s hard thrusts, his movement hitting the very spot that left her gasping as the orgasm began to burn.
A breathless “I’m gonna come” was all it took from Molly to drive Connor to the point where he growled into her neck.
“Fuck!” he moaned as the tingling began in his balls. “Oh fuck!”
Together they moved, watching each other as their orgasms ripped through them, making their legs weak, their hearts pound and a satisfied grin spread across their faces.
Molly’s hot breath danced lightly over Connor’s face as he throbbed inside her. “You are a bad girl,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead.
“Maybe,” she replied, running her fingers through his hair. “But you love it.”
“I love you!”
“I know.”
Connor looked at her, loving the little deviant he’d just fucked. “Is that all I get?”
Giggling, Molly wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissed him hard, ignoring the smarting of her lip.
“I love you too,” she whispered as she pulled her face away.
That was all he needed to hear. That was the thing that now defined him. Molly and her love for him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Molly cleaned herself before leaving the cubicle. Connor splashed a little water over his face. He caught her reflection as she walked out. She smiled at him. Molly blushed a little, which only added to her already flushed cheeks.
“I’ll go out first, make sure the coast is clear,” Molly said, winking at Connor as he fixed the belt on his trousers.
“Okay. I’ll not be too much longer.”
Molly reapplied her lipstick before fixing her hair then slipped out of the door, leaving Connor to follow along.
Walking back toward the foyer, Molly was on cloud nine. Her head spun from delirious happiness. The evening was going in a direction she had never expected. Gone was the apprehension and worry, replaced by a renewed confidence, and she loved it.
Molly slipped back into the ballroom, made her way to the table and sat down.
“Where did you sneak off to?” a curious Claudia asked as she took a seat beside Molly.
“Oh, I just needed a little air. It’s so hot in here.”
“You do look flushed. Are you okay?”
“Absolutely,” Molly replied. She couldn’t hide it. She tried, but it was too obvious.
“Where’s that young suitor of yours?”
Looking back at the door, Molly didn’t see any sign of Connor and shrugged. “I think he’s still talking to one of his father’s friends.”
“Men,” Claudia remarked. “They do love to talk, a load of nonsense the majority of the time, but still, they never know when to shut up.”
Moments slipped by and there was still no sign of Connor.
“Oh, we must exchange numbers. I would love to get more involved with the work you do at the shelter. Maybe even set up my own foundation,” Claudia said as she opened her purse, taking out her phone.
“Oh, that would be fabulous,” Molly replied, reaching her hand onto the table—she’d forgotten her bag. “Oh crap, I’ve left it in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Molly walked out of the ballroom and looked around the busy corridor. Still no sign of Connor.
“Where is he?” she mumbled to herself as she strolled back to the bathroom.
Pushing the door open, she looked down at her dress, not noticing anything, not until the door had closed behind her.
Connor was pressed against the wall, a woman on her knees, her head moving as she fumbled at his crotch. “Stop it!” he shouted, not seeing Molly standing there.
“I can smell her on you,” the woman growled as she released his cock from his trousers, stroking it.
“Get the fuck off me, Marissa.”
Tears began to burn Molly’s eyes when she realized what she was seeing.
Connor looked up and saw Molly. His face said it all.
Connor pushed Marissa to the floor, closed his trousers, fastening his belt as he walked toward Molly.
“Don’t you come near me,” Molly said through tears. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
Marissa’s laugh echoed in the restroom. Clapping her hands, she stood and furrowed her brow. “I can still smell your pussy on him.”
“Shut the fuck up, Marissa,” Connor roared.
Molly grabbed her purse from the stool, turned her back on them and fumbled for the door handle. Once she was free from the restroom, she lifted the hem of her dress, briskly walking toward the exit. All the while hot, steaming tears fell down her cheeks.
Outside, the noise of local traffic became discordant as she tried to get her bearings. Spinning in a circle, she looked up at the starry night sky, her heartbeat reverberating through her head. Her breathing was labored and echoed as she looked back down, the twinkling of the streetlights blurred through her tears.
“Molly,” Connor called after her. “Molly, please wait.”
Molly ran down the street, wanting to be anywhere but there. She thought she was going to vomit as her stomach refused to digest what she’d just seen. How could she have been so stupid? She’d let down her guard and now she was broken—again.
“Molly,” Connor’s voice echoed from behind.
Molly pretended she didn’t hear him. She didn’t want to. She just wanted to escape, go back home, wash the filth from her and rid herself of the façade. Anything was better than feeling used.
A hand touched her. Spinning around, Molly met Connor’s face with a hard slap. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you fucking touch me again.”
“Molly, you’ve got to believe me, I didn’t do anything.”
“Fuck you!”
Trying to move away from him, Molly tried hailing a cab.
“She came on to me. She knew we were in there.”
“I don’t want to hear it, Connor,” she cried, holding her hands over her ears.
“Molly, please, I didn’t want any of that.” Tears began to bubble in his eyes.
“Yeah,” she seethed. “Well, from where I stood, your cock seemed to be responding quite well.”
“Jesus Christ,” Connor shouted as he ran his hands over his face. “I didn’t want any of it. She did her usual shit. Molly, you’ve got to believe me. I love you and only you.”
Molly stood in silence for a few moments, trying to absorb what he was saying, but it was pointless. The image of Marissa holding Molly’s man’s genitals in her hands would never leave her mind. A disgusting representation of what was wrong with their world. Their dark, seedy, sordid little world and she didn’t want to be a part of it.
“I don’t care.”
“Molly, don’t do this. Not after everything.” He touched her arm again, this time trying to take hold of her. Molly pulled her arm, pushing at him at the same time.
“I wish you had jumped.”
Connor’s hand slipped from her arm.
Molly stared at him hard, regretting what she’d just said, but she wanted to hurt him. Make him feel used and worthless, just as she was aching. She wanted to repay him the same inner anguish she was going through, and if that meant pushing the dagger in deeper, then so be it.
Not saying another word, Molly hailed a cab, got inside and went to the one place she knew she’d feel safe.
* * * *
The glass of wine cried to be drank. Teasing her, chanting to her, enticing her with its sweet, intoxicating aroma.
Molly sat there, staring into her glass, her tears dripping as her hands shook. She hated herself more at that moment than she ever had. In all the things to have happened, the moment had arrived when she could no longer resist.
Lifting the glass with both hands, she trembled as she opened her mouth and tasted the first sip of the claret. Not another moment was wasted as she downed the entire contents. Signaling for the bartender to refill.
“Keep them coming,” she said, not once making eye contact. She hated herself. She hated what she had allowed Connor to do. She despised having let him in, but promised herself that it would never happen again.
Time became nonexistent. Not when she was drinking herself into an episode she’d sworn she’d never allow to happen again. She had now entered a mental obsession, which meant that she couldn’t leave it alone. The taste was too much to resist. The sense of numbness, the place that meant nothing could touch her, nothing could get in—the vortex of doom where she spiraled into the terrible dark loneliness and terror of all her pain.
Through a haze, she barely heard the bartender as he helped her to her feet.
“Wha—” she incoherently mumbled.
“I think you’ve had enough, miss,” he said as he closed the door behind her, leaving her on the street.
Nothing made sense to her. Her feet wouldn’t do what she wanted them to. Struggling to walk, she fell against the cold wall, trying her best to figure out where she was.
“Cab,” she slurred as her blurred vision stunted her efforts to hail a cab. Stumbling, she raised her arm, but with all her exertion, it was pointless. Her arms didn’t respond either. Her body was pissing her off more than all the pain.
All she wanted to do was go home.
The noise was odd, a ringing sound that pulsed through her head. She didn’t know it. She didn’t have time to comprehend what was happening. But she felt the warmth rush through her, as if she were flying. A heat radiated through her, numbed the ache in her heart. This was new, something she’d never experienced before, and she didn’t want to leave it. She was at peace.
Finally.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Connor poured another shot of whiskey into his glass before he paced back and forth in his parents’ lounge. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t been able to sit still. His head was a mess.
“Connor, you need to relax. Try to get some sleep,” his father said as he watched his son tear himself apart.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he roared. “That bitch destroyed everything.”
Connor’s hands shook as he held the glass. Through labored breaths, he gulped down the brown liquor. But the more he drank, the more enraged he became. Connor threw the crystal glass against the wall. It smashed into smithereens, sparkling like tiny diamonds over the wooden floor.
“She won’t answer my calls,” he shouted.
Falling onto the couch, Connor finally caved, sobbing. His father looked on with pity. Gone was the steel glare of the man who more often than not treated his son with contempt. Now standing by his son’s side was a man watching his child break.
John rested a hand on Connor’s back and sighed. “Give her time.”
Wiping his eyes, Connor felt the bile in the back of his throat curdle. He couldn’t hold it any longer. Retching, he ran toward the doo
r but didn’t make it to the bathroom in time. The vomit was uncontrollable. A sickness he hadn’t experienced in a long time. And as he knelt on the floor, his mother stepped into view. Dressed as if she had somewhere to be, she grunted, before picking up her purse and heading for the front door.
“She’s a cold bitch,” he muttered.
Mark walked down the hallway from the kitchen, carrying a tray, and stopped when he saw his friend on his knees. He set the tray on a sideboard then walked up to Connor, tucking a hand under his arm as he helped him to his feet.
“You need to sleep this off, and that’s an order,” Mark said as he helped his drunken friend to his old room. “What good are you to anyone in this state?”
“But, Molly… She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She’s just angry.”
Through his drunken stupor, Connor tried his best to make sense, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. His head banged, his heart was heavy and an ache in his soul told him that there could be no future—not if Molly wasn’t in it.
Mark closed the drapes, threw a blanket over him, and as Connor slipped off into his drunken sleep, the last words to echo in his head were Molly’s. “I wish you’d jumped.”
* * * *
It was late evening by the time Connor awoke. His head spun as intense confusion swarmed his brain. Connor was lying on his side and his eyes fluttered open then closed again a few times before he finally focused on the wardrobe. Anything to stop the spinning.
His mouth was dry. A disgusting taste of stale alcohol turned his stomach as his eyes ached from trying to focus. Reaching out to the side dresser, he turned the clock to face him. It was just after eight p.m. and the thought of Molly began to consume his mind.
Sitting up on the bed, he held his head in his hands as the memories of the night before filtered through. Horrible things that pushed him closer to the edge the more Marissa’s face flashed before his eyes. He hated her, despised her to the point where he would gladly have run her over given the chance. How could she be so evil? Why would someone be so intent on destroying another’s happiness? So many things flew through him, so many questions that he was sure, if he continued thinking, his head would explode.
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