by J. J. Bella
“Ready?” asked Peter, standing next to her as she gazed at the city.
“Oh, sorry, yeah.”
He smiled and opened the passenger door. Molly slid in and Peter entered soon after, the engine roaring to life as he activated the ignition.
“So, where are we off to, Mr. Randall?” asked Molly, placing her hands on her knees, the fabric of the gown soft as silk on her skin.
“Well, Ms. Brimley, I’d like to keep that a surprise. It’s not Italian; I’ll tell you that much.”
“Fine,” said Molly with a playful pout.
Peter drove towards his destination, and Molly passed the time by looking out of the window at the city beyond, her eyes on the people who walked down the streets, the buildings that towered above them, and the occasional glimpses of the blue water of the bay through the landscape.
After a time, they arrived in front of one of the taller buildings of the Financial District and Peter drove the car into the half-circle in front, a valet springing to action as soon as they car came to a halt.
Within minutes, they were standing in the elegant lobby of the building, a tasteful space with gold statues, bubbling fountains, and various men and women dressed in similarly glamorous clothing as Peter and Molly.
Peter led Molly to the elevator bank, a hallway of gold-painted walls, vaulted ceilings, and several silver sets of elevator doors. They stepped into one, and as it rose, the back wall of the elevator gave way to glass, revealing a stunning view of the city, their vantage point growing more dramatic the higher they went.
The doors opened to a chic restaurant full of what appeared to Molly to be high society types. A host in tasteful, sophisticated attire led them through the main dining room, many of the patrons giving their hello to Peter as he and Molly made their way through them. The dining room walls were all glass, allowing for a three-hundred-and-sixty view of the city.
They arrived at a small door off to the side which led to a small, private terrace with nothing but a table for two.
“Enjoy your meal,” said the host with a smile as he left the two alone.
Gentle piano music piped in through a nearby speaker mixed with the sounds of the city below, and Molly stepped over to the railing, placing her hands upon it and taking in the breathtaking view of the city.
“This is incredible,” she said, her eyes scanning from the Pacific Ocean to the Golden Gate Bridge and all of the neighborhoods of the city that lay stretched before them, the pointed shape of the Transamerica Building towering above them all. “I’ve never been to a place with a view like this.”
“Yeah,” said Peter, taking his seat. “It’s one of my favorite places in the city.”
Molly shook her head at the majesty of the view one last time before taking her seat across from Peter. She turned her head, looking in at the main dining floor which was packed with some of the city’s wealthiest and most elite.
“I feel like I stick out,” said Molly, her eyes on the immaculately dressed clientele.
“Nonsense,” said Peter. “You’re classier than all of them combined.”
He flashed her a sly smile as she let out a light chuckle.
Their waiter opened the terrace door and approached the table.
“Good to see you, Mr. Randal,” said the waiter, a young, handsome Hispanic man.
Peter gave the young man a polite nod. The waiter then listed the specials, followed by Peter ordering drinks.
“I’ll have a Manhattan, and...?” he flicked his eyes to Molly.
“A vodka sour, please,” she said.
“Very good,” the waiter.
He returned moments later with their drinks, and Peter raised his glass for a toast as the waiter departed.
“To what are we toasting?” asked Molly.
“To…fake marriages,” said Peter with a smile.
Molly chuckled brightly. “How about…to Winnie’s new friends.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Peter as the two of them tapped the rims of their glass with a clear clink.
The two met eyes over their drinks as they sipped.
“Listen, I want to make it very clear how grateful I am for you taking part in this…arrangement with me. It’s very unusual, I know, but it’s really helping me out of this bind.”
“Of course,” said Molly. “Just as long as the check clears.”
Then it was her turn to flash a knowing smile and a wink.
“I have to watch out for you,” he said, sitting back and crossing his legs.
“That would be a wise move,” Molly replied with a smirk.
“I know this is a lot to deal with, but I hope I can make it easier for you in any way I can.”
“It’s been manageable so far,” said Molly. “And Winnie’s a great kid.”
“That’s been a wonderful side-benefit of this whole situation,” he said. “She’s been very withdrawn over the last few years; it pains me to see a girl like her feel so unsure of herself.”
“She’s been like this since your wife left?” asked Molly.
“…Yes,” said Peter. “She was always a ray of sunshine, but ever since then, she’s been very difficult to deal with at times. Let’s just say you’re not the first babysitter I’ve hired to look after her.”
“Well, I’m glad things are working out, both with Winnie and with, um,” Molly pointed to the ring on her finger. “This.”
“I agree; so far, so good.”
At that moment, a man stepped out onto the terrace, a short, heavy-set man in a well-tailored, dark suit.
“Mr. Randall,” said the man, approaching the table with a warm expression on his face.
“Lucian, please, call me Peter; I’ve only been coming here for the last half-decade,” said Peter, rising and shaking the man’s hand.
Peter turned to Molly.
“Molly, this is Lucian Dupree, the owner.”
“And who is this lovely young woman?” he asked, taking Molly’s had and moving in for a polite peck on the check.
“This is Molly Brimley, my fiancée.”
Lucian’s eyes lit up.
“What a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “You’ve done well, Peter; she’s a real beauty.”
“Thank you,” said Peter. “She’s a wonderful woman.”
“And, if I may say so, it warms my heart to see you finally moving on after Amanda; what a tragedy for all of us that was.”
“Ah, well, that’s all in the past,” said Peter, Molly getting the distinct impression that he wanted to change the subject.
Tragedy? thought Molly.
“Of course, of course,” said Lucian. “Well, Molly, I’m looking forward to seeing you here over the coming years.”
“Thank you,” said Molly.
“I’m going to have the chef prepare something special for you both; I hope you like it,” said Lucian.
“I’m sure we will,” said Peter.
With that, Lucian departed.
Molly’s suspicion that there was more going on with Peter’s ex-wife than he was letting on was only growing. But she was sure that if it had anything to do with Molly, Peter would tell her in time.
“How’re things going with the app?” asked Molly, eager to change the subject.
“The app?” asked Peter. “Oh, about as well as I could be hoping. I have a meeting with the investor soon, and hopefully, he’ll be on board for funding.”
“And it’s an interior design app?”
“That’s right,” said Peter. “Something that you’re probably interested in, now that I think about it.”
“Yeah, I definitely am,” said Molly.
“Well, like I said, it’s something that allows you to go through various pieces of furniture, artwork, paint colors, things like that, and you select what you like. After a time, it builds a database of your tastes. Then, you take a picture of the space you’re looking to decorate, and the app puts together a package based upon your selections, as well as a mock-up that yo
u can use for reference.”
“Sounds great,” said Molly, very interested.
“I think so, too. And it also pairs you with interior design firms, so you can have them come by and take a look at your place, maybe make some suggestions based on what you’ve chosen.”
“That’s an amazing idea,” said Molly. “I love the idea of the designer having a database of the client’s tastes. I’ve worked with clients before, back when I was in school, and they tend to have the vaguest ideas of what they want. With this, you can just reference what they’ve selected.”
“That’s exactly what I have in mind. So, you can work with a designer if you want to redo a whole room, or if you’re just looking to buy, say, a piece of art for the bathroom, you can easily do that and have it shipped to your home.”
Molly’s thoughts went back to Peter’s place, a home that was in desperate need of a makeover.
“Have you tried this on your place?”
Peter’s eyes narrowed and a playful smirk crossed his lips.
“I know, I know; the place is beyond overdue for a facelift. You’re not the first person to tell me that, by the way.”
“Well, there’s an easy way to solve that problem,” said Molly.
“Well, when you’re busy, time just flies by. Then you look around and see that your hip living room is now as passé as it gets. That’s why I’m using this app to redesign it. Here,”
He slipped his phone out of his pocket and made a few swipes before handing it to Molly.
“That’s what it came up with.”
Molly looked over the design, and it struck her right away as completely wrong.
“I don’t like it,” said Molly.
“Let me never accuse you of being dishonest,” said Peter.
Molly blushed a bit, realizing how blunt she was being about Peter’s app. But he was as unflappable as always.
“What’s wrong with it,” he asked. “I’m always looking to send along tips how it can be improved.”
“It’s…too old-fashioned,” she said, swiping through the pictures. “It’s stuffy. Someone like you needs a design that’s modern, but also timeless. This just makes me think of some retired old man’s study that he doesn’t let his grandkids into.”
Peter chuckled. “OK, fair enough.”
Then he looked away for a brief moment, as if thinking something over.
“How about this: you do the redesign for my living room. Take a look at it, put together some ideas of what you’d do for it, and if I like it, I’ll let you work on this app with me, and pay you for the trouble; maybe there can even be a full-time position for you in it if this thing gets the funding I think it needs.”
Molly’s eyes lit up at this prospect.
“Deal,” she said, extending her hand towards Peter.
“Deal.”
Chapter Ten
Their meal came, and it was as delicious as the owner promised them. Along with the food, Molly and Peter split a bottle of a delicious Malbec, and before she knew it, Molly’s head was swirling with a sweet, blissful intoxication. And the conversation flowed just as easily as the wine. Peter asked Molly more about herself, and the soft buzz of the drinks brought down the barriers that would normally prevent her from sharing details such as that. And she found her tongue loosening, talking at length of her dream of opening her own design studio and becoming one of the most well-known interior decorators in the city. And every time she checked herself, feeling that she was taking up too much time with her prattling, she’d look across the table to see Peter sitting back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his glass of wine in his hand, a look of unbridled interest on his face. It appeared to Molly that he just enjoyed listening to her talk.
But the openness didn’t go both ways. Molly broke up her monologuing from time to time, offering the baton of conversation to Peter, but he didn’t seem to be interested in discussing himself. And any time he would, it was in a humble, unassuming way. She did find out that he graduated from UC Berkeley with a degree in history before heading to Cambridge to get his MBA at Harvard Business School. But all of this information was delivered with the tone of him recounting what he bought last at the grocery store; talking about himself just didn’t seem to be in Peter’s character.
“Let me show you something,” he said, just as the waiter brought by their after-dinner cocktails.
He stood up from the table, his drink in hand, and beckoned Molly to follow him. They moved through the dining room floor, Peter gesturing to Lucian as they did, Lucian giving him a knowing nod. They returned to the elevator bank and once inside, Peter pressed the button labeled “R.”
“Where are we going?” asked Molly.
“Just a little ways up,” said Peter.
The alcohol slithering through Molly’s body, her eyes fell on Peter as he stood leaning against the wall of the elevator, his cocktail cradled in his hand, his eyes narrow, as though scheming, a stray strand of his golden blond hair loose and draped across his forehead.
Her presence of mind returning, Molly shook these thoughts out of her head. That she was extremely attracted to Peter was no epiphany for her, but she didn’t want to risk indulging in these thoughts; the last thing she needed was to make a drunken move at her boss only for him to reject her in shock.
The elevator emitted a ding, the doors opened to the roof of the building. If the view from the terrace was impressive, what she was seeing now was a whole new level of incredible. The city was a brilliant panorama around them, and being alone, the only sound was the gentle howl of the wind, punctuated with the occasional honking horn from the traffic below that carried upwards.
“This is amazing,” said Molly, walking out onto the roof, the sky above twinkling with stars.
“The view below isn’t bad, but in my opinion, nothing beats being right on top.”
Molly walked over to the railing, setting down her drink on the ground by her feet and looking down, the crisscross of the orange white streets below swirling below from her height.
“It almost makes me dizzy,” said Molly, picking up her drink.
“Anything like this in Salt Lake?” asked Peter with a smile.
“No way,” said Molly, her lips now fully loose. “Nothing like this.”
Molly turned to face the city once again, Peter taking a place next to her. Looking down where he stood, she noticed that he was very close to her, the fabric of his tuxedo jacket brushing against the bare skin of his arm. She looked up at him, and he was looking off into the distance and taking a sip from his drink.
Does he know how close he’s standing? wondered Molly. Is this intentional?
But whether he was or not, the way she felt around him was incredible. There was a heat between their bodies that was palpable, and Molly couldn’t help but wonder if Peter felt it too.
“So, Mr. Randall,” said Molly, turning towards Peter. “Why is it that a man like you, who could have any woman in this city if he wanted to, has to fake being engaged? I’d think that there’d be women lining up to be wearing this ring, and you wouldn’t have to be paying them to pretend.”
Peter turned towards Molly, their bodies only inches away.
“I’m…just not one for commitment. I’ve dated here and there, sure, but nothing serious.”
“And why is that?”
“Hard to say,” he said, looking down at Molly, his blue eyes so intense that it took all of Molly’s strength to not turn away from them. “I suppose I just…never found the right…girl…”
His voice trailed off as he looked into Molly’s eyes. She felt as though she might wilt before him. But before she could consider the matter, Peter leaned towards her, taking her chin in the crook of his finger and tilting her head up towards his. Then, before Molly could think about what was happening, he kissed her.
The moment his lips touched hers, a surge of heat rushed through Molly’s body, her limbs filling with a sweet heat, as though his kiss set her ag
low. Her arms were at her sides; she didn’t know what to do with them, and furthermore, she was frozen with heat and passion from the simple sensation of his lips placed on hers.
Gaining a moment of presence of mind, Molly set her drink on the railing and put her hands on Peter’s sides, his body hard and taut, even beneath his tuxedo. Peter did the same, taking his lips from Molly’s only long enough to get rid of his drink before turning his attention back to her. This time, however, he kissed her harder, and Molly sensed that he felt the same passion. He set his hands on the soft curves of her hips, moving them up and along her body. Molly loved the feeling of his strong hands on her body, and wanted nothing more than to be in his embrace.
They continued to kiss, their chaste, close-mouth kisses blossoming into deeper, sensual making out. Molly shivered with pleasure whenever Peter’s tongue slipped over and past her lips. She allowed herself to fall into his kiss, to give herself over to him more and more by the second.
But just as she was ready to surrender to his embrace, Peter pulled away.
“I think we should get out of here,” he said.
She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.
They returned to the elevator, and hardly able to keep their hands off of one another, they set upon each other as soon as the doors slid shut. When they opened, Molly retrieved their things from the table while Peter had the restaurant call a cab. Back in the elevator, Peter pounced on Molly, kissing her hard and deep. Molly kissed him back with wild abandon, her hands moving all over his body. She wanted nothing more than to rip him out of his tuxedo, but right at the moment that things might’ve escalated, the elevator doors opened to the elegant party that was occurring in the building lobby.
Molly and Peter rushed through the lobby, moving through the throngs of wealthy party-goers. They arrived outside, and Peter let the valet know that he would be leaving his car overnight. A moment later, the taxi pulled up, and the two of them hurried into the backseat.
Right as the doors to the taxi shut, they began again, kissing and fondling one another over their clothes as the car drove them to Peter’s house.
