Chapter 742 When Impulse Took Over
The night stretched endlessly around them.
She wasn't sure she'd heard him right. How could Elliot possibly be asking her this? Didn't he hate her? Didn't he have a girlfriend now? Hadn't he cut all ties with her?
Molly's chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths.
Elliot's eyes were dark, unreadable. He asked again, his voice low, "Do you want to? Because I do."
Molly wanted to refuse. She knew that if she said yes, she'd sink even lower in his estimation. But she couldn't bring herself to say no. She wanted him just as desperately.
She couldn't tell who moved first, but suddenly they were kissing, stumbling toward the couch in a tangle of limbs and desperate need.
What followed was raw, consuming passion.
Neither had been with anyone in months, and once wasn't nearly enough. Elliot seemed to claim every inch of her soft skin, possessing her again and again as if he couldn't bear to let go.
When Clio came to deliver clothes, she knocked but got no answer. She used her key card to enter.
Fortunately, Elliot had already carried Molly into the bedroom. Clio wasn't deaf—she could hear the intense sounds coming from within. She quietly set down the bag and slipped away.
At two in the morning, Elliot was finally satisfied.
The lamplight cast a warm glow as he leaned against the headboard, handling some business on his phone. Molly had fallen asleep from exhaustion, her long hair spilled across the sheets, making her face look even more delicate.
About thirty minutes later, Molly stirred awake. She found her cheek resting against Elliot's bare torso, their bodies still intimately entwined. For a moment, her heart fluttered with hope.
Maybe she should tell him that she and Blake weren't what he thought. Maybe they still had a chance.
But before she could speak, Elliot looked down at her with distant eyes. "You're awake? Tonight was... impulsive of me. Whatever you want, as long as I can give it to you, just name it."
Molly froze.
It took her a long moment to blink, then slowly pull away from his embrace. Her body had gone cold, and all that fire and passion now felt like a cruel joke. To Elliot, she really was nothing more than a plaything.
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She didn't scream or demand explanations. She didn't try to hide her pain.
She simply let the tears fall and whispered, "I want money. You know that's all I've ever wanted."
Her last shred of dignity wouldn't let her speak of love. She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "Elliot, I only want your money."
Elliot watched her in silence, offering no cruel words. After a moment, he got up, pulled on his pants, and retrieved a checkbook from his jacket. He wrote out a check for five million dollars—payment for services rendered.
Molly didn't refuse. Five million dollars. That was what she'd earn for an entire film. How many children's winter coats and textbooks that could buy.
Her hands trembled as she took the check. She looked at Elliot, the man she'd once loved with everything she had, and quietly thanked him. She even told him not to forget to call her if he ever needed this kind of arrangement again.
Elliot stared at her with burning intensity.
Molly gave him a hollow smile. "You've always known what kind of person I am."
Finally, Elliot snapped. He told her to get out.
It was the first time he'd ever raised his voice at her. His eyes were bloodshot with rage. He was the one who'd propositioned her, and she'd taken his money without a fight—so why was he angry now?
What did he want from her? Did he want her to refuse the money? Did he want her to say she didn't want his cash, that all she'd ever wanted was him?
Elliot let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. How ridiculous could he be? Still clinging to hopeless dreams.
Molly's fingers shook as she dressed. She fumbled with her clothes, struggling to get them on properly. She left in the dead of night to the sound of Elliot destroying things behind her. All his composure and control meant nothing when it came to her.
Downstairs at the hotel, luxury cars lined the street alongside glamorous women and their wealthy companions.
Molly looked at the scene and realized she was just another one of them. She pulled her coat tighter and walked slowly down the empty street. Her phone buzzed with a message from Celine about the sixty million dollar deal.
Molly stared at those numbers and laughed until tears streamed down her face.
All the money in the world couldn't buy back what she and Elliot had lost. The wounds from their youth had scarred not just her body, but his heart as well. They had no trust left—she didn't believe he could forgive her, and he didn't believe she could change.
How far could two people go without trust?