Chapter 735 Wanna Stay the Night?
How could Molly even say it out loud?
She could not bring herself to meet Elliot's eyes. Instead, she tucked her face into the curve of his shoulder and whispered, "You know."
Elliot turned his head, trying to kiss her. She shifted away a couple of times, but in the end, she did not move.
He got what he wanted.
At his age, Elliot's passion was almost overwhelming, but Molly couldn't fully let go. She was torn between feeling sorry for him and being afraid something might go wrong. Throughout the whole process, she kept her brows furrowed, looking terrified.
From above, Elliot looked down at her. There was a strange light in his eyes, and this time—since they had met again—he was unexpectedly gentle.
Afterward, they lay together in silence, bodies damp with sweat.
It was a long while before Molly spoke softly, "Go take a shower. I'll get you some soup. You should replenish your strength after... that."
Elliot's handsome features darkened. "Wasn't it you who couldn't keep your hands off me?"
Molly bit her lip. "I did not."
To her surprise, Elliot laughed—a quiet, unguarded laugh she had not heard in so long. She found herself staring, momentarily forgetting her own situation. He pulled her closer under the covers, and when he saw the look on her face, his restraint slipped. He took her again.
An hour later, as the sky outside dimmed, the sound of running water came from the bathroom.
They ate together in the small dining room.
Under the warm light, Elliot was not as domineering as before. Molly felt as if they had gone back to the way things used to be—easy, intimate.
After dinner, Elliot lounged on the sofa, watching TV, and said casually, "If you're free, stay here tonight."
Molly was in the kitchen washing dishes.
Her body went still at his words, but she did not turn around. "What about you? Are you going back?" she asked quietly.
He did not answer.
Molly couldn't help turning to look at him. Fresh from the shower, Elliot was in black athletic shorts and a loose gray shirt, looking completely at ease at home.
Molly's teeth worried her lower lip. A faint shimmer of moisture gathered in her eyes. She murmured, "Okay."
Elliot kept his gaze on the TV. "You want to stay that badly?"
Molly gave a small sound of assent.
Turning away, she finished washing the dishes, dried her hands, and picked up her phone. She called Madeline, telling her she would not be coming home tonight and to please look after Magnolia.
Madeline agreed without hesitation.
Hanging up, Molly glanced down at her phone, a tiny smile playing at her lips.
From the couch, Elliot watched her the whole time—watched her fragile back, watched how she tried to hide her happiness.
He wondered if she really liked him. If she did, why had she lied back then?
His face gave nothing away. He clicked the remote. When Molly came out from her shower, he called her over to curl up in his arms. For a while, they were just Elliot and Molly—not the CEO of M&E Technology and the small-time celebrity.
That night, they fell asleep in the same bed.
From then on, almost every time they met, it was in this apartment. Molly cherished the sweetness, moving carefully as if afraid it would vanish. She cooked for him, satisfying one hunger at the table, and later, another, in bed.
On weekends, if she had no work, they could spend two days and nights wrapped up in each other.
Everyone knew they were together.
But Elliot never made her identity public. Molly understood—he had not forgiven her. Still, she thought, if he truly felt nothing, why would he keep her here?
She began to treat the place as home, gradually adding her own touches.
She bought four different aprons. She replaced the little hidden compartment in the fridge. She brought two pairs of slippers, two crystal vases, and fresh flowers every time she came, filling the air with fragrance.
In the closet, a few of her clothes hung neatly. On the bathroom counter sat the hand soap she liked.
Whenever she fussed over these small things, Elliot simply watched her in silence. The sweetness was so intoxicating that Molly lost track of time—and forgot that the three months would eventually run out.
After the New Year, spring came.
One evening, Molly carried a bouquet of fresh flowers. Even though Elliot had not called her over, she decided to stop by and replace the last bouquet.
She was in a good mood when she unlocked the apartment door with the key he had given her.
The door swung open, and she heard movement inside—someone in the kitchen. She assumed it was Elliot with his secretary, Clio, who sometimes came by to tidy up.
Elliot was on the sofa in a classic suit, watching TV, exactly as she had seen him countless times before.
She started toward him—then froze.
A slender figure emerged from the kitchen.
A beautiful, elegant young woman.
The woman looked at Molly politely. "Are you here to see Elliot?"
Molly's face went pale.
In an instant, she understood. The woman was Elliot's date—someone he was considering for marriage, perhaps here to prove her skill in the kitchen. Molly had walked in uninvited, like an intruder.
Her lips trembled, her voice shaking, "I'm here to bring flowers. These are from Mr. Windsor... for his girlfriend."
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