CHAPTER SEVEN

ATLAS

––––––––

"We nearly had a wedding clash." Leilani says, adding green beans with sliced almonds to her plate.

Tonight is a grazing meal, so I'm told. It's like a picnic but inside. Although the floor to ceiling glass room full of low lighting feels like we are outside. Especially with the glass roof. I can see the moon in the distance.

Leilani and Jacob have created an incredible home. Their dream house.

I'd love to buy it or something similar.

It seems like both our families are buying houses out here as either primary homes or vacation properties. I love how it brings us all together in one place, given we live in different cities.

Some of us live in different states.

I like the Hamptons, but I momentarily wonder what Molly thinks of it. Or all of this.

Is it too much for her?

Would she fit in...like Harlow does?

Not that I am reconsidering my decision, but it was easy being with her. She comes from a wealthy family and wasn't fazed by all the luxury.

In comparison, Molly has been walking around wide-eyed tonight.

I remind myself to check in with Harlow to see if she's spoken to Donald.

"Oh," Payton replies, giving Knox a concerned glance. "Who was the clash with?"

"Hunter. Blake and Jacob's cousin from New York," Bella says. "He and Addison got engaged recently and were going to marry this weekend, but she broke her arm. So they've delayed it until the spring."

"Finally got engaged." Blake says as he reaches across the table for a warm bread roll that smells like happiness.

I glance down around for Molly as a few people laugh. I guess I don't know the inside joke. I'm more focused on how she is after being a complete dick to her earlier.

I've decided I need to pull my head out of my ass and accept it if she has a boyfriend. She's going to be in our lives regularly as Payton's best friend, and I don't want her to feel uncomfortable.

I can be her friend.

I'm sure I won't desire her forever.

As I was unpacking, I promised myself I'd apologize and clear the air.

No more text messages.

No more flirting.

No more sexual glances.

Then I heard the girls giggling and was drawn out into the hallway.

Fuck me. Watching her and Payton lose their damn minds over something funny did weird things to my chest.

I wanted everyone to fuck off so I could fly inside her room, pull her into my arms. and kiss the life out of her.

The sparkle in her eyes is back.

I stretch back and find her chatting to Jacob, looking much happier than she did earlier today.

Perhaps Greg phoned her.

I grit my teeth.

I'm fine with it. As her friend, it's great.

Just great !

"Fletcher mentioned it. Sorry I didn't tell you babe. You haven't met them yet," Knox says, kissing Payton's cheek.

I'll never get over seeing my big brother turn into a big teddy bear around this woman. Well, he's still moody and bossy but I don't think anything could change that.

Except maybe a little baby girl.

Time will tell.

I fill my plate and head over to the table and sit opposite Jacob and Molly.

"So what's your business name?" he asks her.

"You have a business?" I ask, my fork halting at the entrance to my big mouth.

She frowns at me. "Yes." Then she turns back to Jacob. "Brand Alchemy."

She's a marketer?

How did I not know any of this?

Then again, we don't know each other. She was stoned at my party, and aside from some damn good flirting, we have never sat down and had a conversation.

When we were alone, my head was between her legs.

I'm not sorry.

But then she ran away.

So I don't feel bad, but I do hate that she's chatting to other people and sharing things about herself and not talking to me.

"I like it. Turning ideas into gold." Jacob nods.

"Yes!" Molly replies grinning from ear to ear.

Goddamn Jacob.

I want her smiling at me like that.

"I'm working on my tagline, but it'll be something along those lines."

"I can design you a logo." I offer suddenly.

Molly blinks at me.

When I'm going to have the time to do it, I don't know, but I'll find it.

"You're a graphic designer?" she asks.

"Yes. Well no. I'm a designer," I reply, suddenly realizing what a stupid offer it was.

I can design logos.

I can design fucking anything.

But it's unlikely Molly will think that I'm qualified if she's a marketer.

Goddamn it. I'm usually way smoother with women. This girl has me spinning in circles.

Levi sits down beside me. "Atlas is the senior designer at Verity & Co."

"Your dad's company," Molly says, unimpressed and yet again, I grind my teeth.

It's not like Verity & Co. is some middle-of-the-road fashion label. It shares runways with the most luxurious names in the world.

People know who I am.

And not just because I'm Ward Montgomery's son. My designs are getting a reputation in the industry.

I still want the award though.

For this exact reason. It's judged by independent people in the industry and not my fucking father.

I stab my piece of chicken and shove it in my mouth as I glare at Molly.

"Yeah, the job was handed to me by Daddy. No skills required," I snap.

Her eyes remain on me as I chew the chicken like I just caught it mid-flight and took a chunk out of it.

"Hardly," Levi adds, sitting beside me. "He's good. Payton has a few pieces now. In her words, she's obsessed ."

Her cheeks turn red. She knows she offended me, and I want to tell her it's fine.

But it's not.

I want her to know I'm not some trust fund kid who lives off Daddy's credit card.

First, I inherited a fuck ton from my mother and have shares in both my mom's and dad's companies —two of the biggest in the United States.

You can't help who your parents are.

Second, I worked hard to get the best grades in school and prove myself when I began interning at WME.

No, I will never starve.

Yes, I have more money than any human ever needs.

But I don't spend my days in front of a webcam dancing or some fucking thing, riding off the back of my famous surname. Nor am I out partying and being hunted by the media because of my shitty behavior.

I could have had some Chinese company create a bunch of makeup and called it Montgomery somefuckingthing and made millions.

No.

I didn't do any of those things.

I got my design degree and worked hard to get respect from my peers. And this year I was given the opportunity to lead the spring/summer collection. So far, it's a huge success.

Still want the award though.

"You designed this season's line?" Molly asks and I like that I hear awe in her voice. "That blue dress with the"—she does this crisscross thing over her chest—"halter design?"

I nod.

It would look gorgeous on her too.

"Atlas designed my wedding dress," Payton says, sitting on the other side of me.

I watch Molly and have this need for her to be impressed.

I want to tell her my designs are hanging alongside fashion names women around the world dream of owning. Having a Verity & Co. piece in their wardrobe is a luxury fashion statement.

One very few could afford.

I want to dress her in my designs and see her walking around feeling like a million dollars.

With her figure and beauty, she would.

Molly is shorter than your average model with softer curves, but none of that matters. To me she's perfect.

God I like her.

Fuck Greg.

I'm not sure I can sit this one out.

I want her.

"Neither of them will tell me what it looks like either," Knox says. "I swear if there is too much cleavage I will knock your head off your shoulder."

I smirk and this time I'm kinder to the chicken as I take another bite.

"It is exactly what I want, and you will love it, Knox Montgomery."

Payton winks at me across the table.

Knox grunts.

"Why would you offer to design me a logo?" Molly asks.

When I look up, the same curious expression is on her face. As if none of the other conversations around her had taken place. She's been stuck in that question for ten damn minutes.

I like the fact that I'm affecting her.

A lot.

"Maybe I'm a nice guy." I tilt my head. "Some might even say I'm a gentleman."

Molly's curious gaze turns dark.

I was hoping my words would remind her that I sent her home from my birthday without taking—much—advantage of her.

Blake snorts.

"Don't fall for it, Molly. Any man who calls himself a gentleman is not," Blake says.

"Thanks man." I laugh and hope it lightens her response.

Nope.

"Trust me," she says coldly. "I won't."

Ouch.

"And thank you, but I've had a logo made. I have my website up and running and a couple of clients already." She announces and falls back into her conversation with Jacob.

Ignoring me.

Great.

I bet fucking Greg helped her.

––––––––

TWO HOURS LATER, when I'm back in my room, I search for the Brand Alchemy website and spend a good thirty minute's poking holes in it.

Greg did a poor job.

( He didn't and I'm really fucking proud of her for creating her own business. )

I need to clear the air between us tomorrow. More than one person shot me a questioning glance and I don't want the tension between us to ruin Knox and Payton's day.

Or our Thanksgiving celebration. Even if it isn't the official day tomorrow.