Connor felt as if he were under the microscope. “She’s incredible.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not about to give you the third degree,” Barry said. His reassuring smile eased some of the inner turmoil roaming around inside Connor’s head. “Molly’s had a rough ride. I’m sure she’s filled you in, but I think she may have left a few details out.”
Connor’s heart stopped beating for a split second. “What kind of things?” he asked, trying his best not to let his voice quaver.
“That girl has had a tough life, and I know she’s probably told you about the alcohol and the abuse, but I bet she left out the minor details of how her parents turn up every few months, sometimes it’s a year or two, torturing her,” he whispered. “They emotionally blackmail her into giving them money for their next hit. Her mother—a nasty piece of work—screws with her, making her feel like she’s dirty. Damaged goods that no man will ever want, which as you can imagine makes some of those old wounds bleed.”
“Jesus, she never mentioned any of this,” Connor said.
“Of course she wouldn’t. She’s afraid that if she lets you in on the real nasty things, you’ll walk away.”
“I would never do that.”
“Then when they come knocking, which I can guarantee they will, don’t hold Molly accountable for any of their crap.”
Connor swallowed the information and knew that Molly needed him more now than ever before.
“Absolutely.”
“Then let’s go fire up the barbecue and eat like we’re kings,” Barry said, smiling. “Or at least pretend we’re kings.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Molly couldn’t hide the happiness. It was radiating from her like never before. Hundreds of different emotions twirled around inside her, dancing like leaves spinning in spirals around her head. It was an ethereal feeling and one she never wanted to forget.
Watching how Connor felt at ease interacting with her friends confirmed her love for him. She adored the smile, the crinkling of his eyes as he laughed when Barry made his ridiculous jokes, to the way he helped Jenna with the plates, carrying them back to the kitchen. Being a gentleman and every inch a god in her eyes.
“What are you daydreaming about?” Barry inquired as he sat down beside her.
Molly gave him a gentle dig against his ribs, trying to stifle her giggle. “Nothing.”
“Liar,” he said as he smiled at her. “I like him. He’s a good guy.” Then his eyebrows narrowed. “How are you dealing with what happened?”
Molly knew it was going to be asked. She knew what Barry was like and there was no getting away from the subject.
“Honestly, I wasn’t dealing with it. In fact, even when Connor took me to the beach house, all I wanted to do was drown my sorrows…but I didn’t, because he didn’t give me five seconds to sit, wallowing and feeling sorry for myself.” Her voice was soft, like a delicate piece of china, ready to break if pushed too hard.
“How’s that lip? It looks sore but not as bad as Gina made out—which I am thankful for.”
“It hurts, but it’s healing,” she said as she touched her bottom lip, the swelling beginning to subside. “Has there been any word on Eugene?”
Molly couldn’t leave well alone. It was her natural instinct to inquire, to ask the awkward questions others avoided. There was a part to her that others rarely got to see. She kept it well hidden. The little part of her, that if given half the chance, would destroy all those who’d hurt her, spit on their graves, and walk away not blinking an eye. But that was the person she didn’t want to be. That was the Molly who was bred on hatred and lies, the kind of stuff that would convince a child that being bad was the right way. She didn’t want that and fought hard to push those demons back into their tiny coffins inside her soul.
“Is this something you really need to hear?” Barry asked.
“Yes, we both know I won’t leave well alone until I find out.”
“He’s still under. They’ve sedated him to help reduce the swelling on the brain.”
“Oh, is the prognosis bad?” A sickening sensation began to pulse through her. She hated herself for hitting him. That wasn’t the person she wanted to be—a cold-blooded killer—but she knew that it was either be raped or survive. She chose survival.
“It was self-defense. If you hadn’t—God knows what would have happened,” Barry said as he took her hand in his. “Listen to me, you’ve got a good thing going with Connor. I know it’s new, it’s exciting and it’s been owed to you for a long time, but here’s something you need to keep check of—your mental wellbeing. And by that, I mean don’t overanalyze things. I know what you’re like, Molly. I can see the cogs turning as we speak. You did nothing wrong. You did what any other rational person would have done, so don’t you dare start blaming yourself.”
“You know me a little too well, huh?”
Smiling, Barry gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re like a part of this family. Fuck it, you are family. We look out for each other, and if that means being blunt, and saying it like it is, then so be it.”
“I know I can always count on you,” Molly replied, giving her friend a well-earned smile.
Molly kicked back a little, relaxed some more, enjoying the company, the atmosphere—the general feeling of her and Connor being accepted as a couple. It was weird for her even to think that, because only two weeks in, it was as though they’d been lovers forever. It was fast, it was crazy, but it was good.
Connor walked over to where she sat, slipping down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “This was a great idea. Thank you for inviting me.”
“You’re welcome,” Molly said as she gazed at him. “I’m glad you said yes.”
“These are good people. Jenna is sweet and Barry is hilarious. I can see why you love them,” Connor said, looking at her with his gorgeous doe eyes.
“They are the best.” Molly beamed. She had never been more proud.
“About tomorrow night,” Connor changed the subject.
Molly’s stomach did a somersault at the mere mention of the gala. She swallowed hard, the stress beginning to overtake her mind. “I had forgotten about that.”
“Are you still okay with attending?”
“Of course I am. I just don’t know what to wear,” she lied. “I’m not so good with all this formal stuff.”
“I’d hate to think that you felt obligated.”
Molly took hold of his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles. “That could never happen. I just am a bit nervous, nothing else.”
Connor pulled Molly in close for a sweet, gentle kiss. They got the approval of a few eyes watching them.
Molly stared over at Barry and Jenna. They smiled at her. She knew she looked every bit the loved-up girl she was. There was no hiding that she had been renewed. She was content knowing that she had found her soul mate, someone who was willing to put her needs first. Barry and Jenna’s blessing was all that Molly needed.
The rest of the evening was spent in such relaxed splendor, Molly was floating when they bade their goodbyes.
* * * *
Shopping was never Molly’s favorite pastime. She was more of a pick-something-up-in-a-local-thrift-store girl. She couldn’t think of anything worse than standing around super swanky shops, staring at row after row of cocktail dresses and feeling very much out of her comfort zone. But there she was, standing, glaring at rows of dresses, deciding what to purchase.
Only for Connor, she wouldn’t never have considered such a high-profile outing. The world he lived in was so different from hers she was afraid of standing out like a sore thumb. She didn’t want to be the one to turn heads for the wrong reasons. It was bad enough that no amount of gloss would cover her lip, not to mention that her budget was probably peanuts compared to what his mother spent on clothes.
Sighing, she walked up to a rack to begin her search for something suitable when a voice startled her from behind.
“Can I help you with anything?” the store assistant asked.
Molly turned around sharply, grimacing. “I’m just looking, thank you.”
“Well, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
The assistant walked away, taking a look back at her every few steps. Molly smiled at her and began looking at the dresses.
One pretty navy dress caught her eye. Molly picked up the price tag and bit down into her lip. It was expensive. But the occasion called for something beautiful, and the dress was almost perfect.
Looking around, Molly eyed the assistant, gesturing for her to come over.
Molly took the dress off the rack and said, “I’d like to try this on.” The butterflies were already beginning to move inside.
The assistant smiled and led the way to the changing rooms. “It’s a beautiful dress.”
“Thank you.”
Once inside the privacy of the cubicle, Molly began to undress, looking at her reflection in the mirror as she did. There were moments her cheeks blushed, and others when she felt stupid for taking a glance at her shapely figure. But once she had the dress on, she couldn’t stop looking. The chiffon of the dress was luxurious against her skin. The A-line princess, one shoulder dress clung in all the right places. It was simple, yet beautiful with the small embroidered beading and appliqué lace. The dark blue complemented her pale features. She looked stunning.
Molly glanced at the price tag again and groaned internally as she contemplated the month’s budget. But as she took another peek at her reflection, she smiled. “Screw it,” she muttered.
As she walked from the store, her grip was tight on the bag, not wanting to let it go. She had this air of excitement running through her. Yes, there was also a little apprehension thrown into the mix, but for the first time, she truly wanted to look like a princess and the gala was to be her ball.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Connor listened to his mother, but his mind was elsewhere. He really wasn’t interested in the formal seating plan, or the order in which he was expected to greet guests. In fact, he wasn’t really in the mood.
The gala was a yearly run event organized by Eleanor on behalf of John Ellison Senior—the battleax—for the brain and spine federation. They raised money from some of the most prestigious men and women in the country. Elite people who adored getting the attention for sharing a slice of their fortune for the sick and needy, and of course the real cause at heart—brain stem cell research.
“Connor, do you hear me?” Eleanor called to him from across the table.
“What?” he asked, clearly distant.
“I was just telling your brother the order of the evening,” she snapped. “You aren’t at all bothered about how important this is.”
“Mom, I am here, isn’t that enough?”
From beside him, his brother James cleared his throat. “I think we should give the guy a break. After all, he’s had a pretty intense two weeks. It can’t be easy having your face plastered everywhere.”
“Fuck you,” Connor snapped.
“He has balls, who knew,” James mocked him.
“Oh, would the pair of you act your age. Jesus you aren’t toddlers anymore,” Eleanor scolded them then got back to her list. “So, Connor, the car will be picking Marissa up at five-fifteen, that gives her enough time to get to the hotel—”
“Marissa?” Connor asked, narrowing his eyebrows, a knot twisting itself into a tight ball.
“Yes,” Eleanor chimed. “Whatever is wrong with you?”
“I am not sitting with Marissa.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened as she looked up from her list. “What do you mean? You always sit with Marissa. It’s how things are done.”
“Not anymore.”
James snapped his neck to the side to glare at his younger brother. The curious look said it all. “Uh-oh, someone’s in for it.”
“How old are you, James?” Connor asked. “Jesus Christ, get a grip.”
“Connor, you will be seated with Marissa, just like you have in years gone by,” his mother insisted.
“I’m afraid not, Mother. I have made alternative arrangements this year.”
Well, that did it. That earned him the look of scorn.
The sound of the chair scraping on the floor rang through the room. Silence befell them all as Eleanor’s eyes blazed. Her faced turned purple as she became enraged. Her nostrils flared.
Connor looked at his mother, witnessing the way her face contorted when incensed with anger.
“You will do as you are told,” she spat. “There will be no room for discussion. Your grandfather is fond of Marissa. Do you really want to disappoint an old man?”
“Fuck!” Connor muttered as his insides began to recoil in disgust.
“
What
did you just say?” Eleanor marched over to where Connor sat, pointing her long, well-groomed finger in his face.
Connor looked up at his mother, rolled his eyes and stood up from his chair. “I am not an impressionable eight year old any longer, Mother. Don’t you think it’s time you accepted that?”
“Excuse me?” her voice screeched.
“Well, seeing as things are turning sour, I shall bow out of this,” James said as he made a quick exit.
“You just never quit, Mother. Always interfering, trying to control a life that you really have no say in. Who I attend tonight’s fund-raiser with is really no concern of yours, but if you ask me kindly, I just may introduce you.” Smiling, Connor tugged at the cuffs of his shirt, feeling the tension in the air. “And if that is all, I have things to do. I’m sure Father is eager for your report. That’s how you two function, right? Giving each other daily reports on how disappointed you are in your offspring. Good day, Mother, I shall see you tonight.”
As he walked away from where Eleanor stood, Connor smirked. The more they tried to push him inside the box they wished him to conform to, the more he began to rebel. It may have been twenty years late, but he was now a man who was in charge of his own destiny, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be controlled by the puppeteer any longer. He was now steering toward his own horizon, and for once in his life, he was in charge.
How he loved the power rush.
* * * *
Sitting in the busy bar, Connor hardly heard the noise from the patrons. He was lost in thought, staring into his glass of whiskey, swishing it around every few mouthfuls. He was trapped by his name. His parents and their controlling nature were beginning to tighten like a noose around his neck. For the first time in the two weeks since his dance with death on the bridge, the same old darkness loomed, gripping him tight. Refusing to allow him to think straight.