Fall Girl

The night sky drapes itself over Glisten City like velvet stitched with diamonds. Stars never fail to mesmerize me. There is something hypnotic about it. I am sitting in my hammock, cradling a glass of my favorite merlot in one hand and twisting a strand of my auburn hair.

I could lie here for hours, with stars as my only company. Goldie, my golden retriever, curls up beside me. His sighs carry more disapproval than any words ever could. He doesn’t like crowds at home.

Music is drifting through the open doors, Usher’s “DJ Got Us Falling in Love” pulsing like a heartbeat I would rather not feel. The music serves as a not-so-subtle reminder that I am hosting a party.

About a week ago.

Salazar Harrington, the COO of Moller Holdings, calls me to the 48th-floor conference room. I have no idea; I am walking toward my dream-come-true opportunity. Before knocking at the mahogany double door, I adjust the lapels of my grey blazer and take a deep breath. After knocking twice, I hear Salazar.

“Come in.”

I turn the brass handle and open the door, and am surprised to see Mr. Banker, the editor-in-chief of Thrust, the sports magazine; Mr. Ridley, the pain-in-my-ass editor-in-chief of Zoisite Fashion magazine; and my manager—the man who made my life hell for the past five years.

Salazar gestures to the empty chairs. “Have a seat, Margot.”

I nod and walk across the room and sit down. I feel the dryness of the Sahara Desert in my throat. My wide eyes move from one man to the next, trying to read the room. Mr. Ridley looks at me and smiles. He raises his hand, and his Rolex peeks from beneath the cuff of his navy suit jacket.

“Don’t worry, you are not here because of any mistake.”

I sigh in relief; I didn’t know I was holding it. I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Okay...it’s good to know, so why exactly am I here?”

Salazar, while scrolling on his iPad, is tapping his platinum Patek Philippe on the table. looks at me with cool precision.

“Mr. Ridley recommended your name as he is leaving Moller Holdings.”

I whip my head over at Mr. Ridley because it’s a shock to know that. Mr. Banker’s resignation is expected in a few weeks. Salazar continues, “To be honest, you were not my first choice. We offered the position to someone else, but he declined.”

I furrow my brows slightly and open my mouth. Salazar shakes his head. “We are not going to disclose the name, so stop thinking about it.”

He makes it clear. I press my lips together and nod. My mind still swirls with the weight of his words. Ever since joining Moller Holdings in my college days as an intern, it has been my dream to become Zoisite’s chief editor, and now, among all people, Ridley has recommended me. Holy fuck. Mr. Ridley recommends my name. I thought that if he listed the names of the people he hates most, my name would be at the top.

Mr. Banker clears his throat and brings me back to reality. “Margot, are you ready to take the responsibility?”

I blink once, straighten my back, and smile. “Of course.” I put my hands on the top of the table. “With pleasure.”

Salazar leans back in his chair and smiles. “We’ll announce this tomorrow. First thing in the morning.”

A voice I am not prepared for cuts through my thoughts. “Mar.”

I lift my gaze to the stars, wishing the silence would swallow the noise inside me—both the world around me and the chaos within. When he calls me Mar, something twists inside me.

I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. Only a few people have the right to call me that, and he is not one of them. He stands just feet away. Kev Moller. He is around 6 feet tall, with a lean build, a fair complexion, hazel eyes, and dirty-blonde hair. His hair always falls messily over his forehead.

He is the sole heir to Dane Moller’s empire and the son of my Dad’s best friend. The way he is standing, it feels like he owns the damn world. He is wearing a simple black Loro Piana hoodie: no logos, no flash, just pure Italian cashmere. Perfectly tailored, dark indigo jeans are paired with black Berluti Shadow sneakers. He wraps a million-dollar machine, a Richard Mille, around his wrist as if it means nothing to him.

His voice carries the same calm arrogance it always has. I take another deep breath to calm myself and slowly get to my feet.

“I am Margot Parker. Mar is a name I reserve exclusively for my friends and family.”

I tell him that, but my heart isn’t sure about it.

Kev tilts his head; he smirks like he always does.

“I used to be your friend...Oh, wait. I used to be your only friend.”

He leans back slightly, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

A dry laugh escapes me, and I toss my hair over my shoulder. “The greatest regret of my life.”

A silence falls between us, not the kind that asks for peace but the kind that demands answers neither of us has right now. Kev runs a hand through his hair.

“Nothing has changed; you still think you are not part of the problem.”

I lift my chin, and my eyes widen with a smile on my face. “And you still enjoy speaking in riddles.”

Kev’s eyes don’t blink for a while, and he nods. “Now listen to my simple words. You have gotten good at pretending.”

I squint, and then I blink. “Pretending?”

Kev steps forward and slips his finger under my chin and moves it up to meet his eye.

“Like you invited me here for the sake of the damn people. You smile like you don’t care and even look at me like you forgot what we had.”

He is looking at me as if he’s already a step ahead, and I hate how easily he reads me. Heat rushes up my neck, and I force my body not to react as he touches me. I finally gather the strength to push his hand away.

“What we had. You mean a friendship that died the moment you left me without any explanation.”

I want to scream at him at the top of my lungs, but I can’t, as he is the company’s CEO.

Kev leans in, and his voice is rough with anger. “Did you ever think to talk to me in all these years and ask why I left?”

I snap at him. “Oh, so that’s what you wanted, that I ask why you disappeared and beg for your return? But guess what? I threw you out of my life completely.”

I lie to him because for the past ten years, not a single day has gone by without me stalking him. I know everything about his life in New York except his sudden comeback to Glisten City.

Kev opens his mouth, but a voice slices through our arguments like a blade wrapped in silk. “Ciao!”

A smile spreads on my face when I hear my best friend Aurora’s voice. She is half American and half Italian, about 5′5″ tall, with a well-proportioned body, warm olive skin, striking hazel eyes that are between green and golden, dark chestnut-brown hair, and thick lashes.

I turn around; she is wearing a satin crimson slip dress with thin spaghetti straps, a plunging neckline, and a soft slit running up one side. She paired the dress with Louboutin stilettos in a glossy, nude color. She is wearing no jewelry, but her Cartier diamond studs and Bulgari Serpenti are enough to show her luxurious taste. It’s not wrong to say that Aurora doesn’t wear fashion; she owns it.

She flings her arms around me, pulling me into a hug. Relief surges through me as her embrace silences the storm. Kev’s presence is stirring.

Kev clears his throat to get our attention. Aurora looks at me.

“Who is this handsome?”

Kev smiles and holds out his hand. “I am Kev Moller, Margot’s friend.”

I stiffen at the word “friend.” He still calls himself my friend? After everything?

Aurora shakes hands with Kev. “That’s funny. How come we never meet? As I have been her best friend for ten years and counting.” She looks at me and then playfully nudges my shoulder with hers.

My smile vanishes when I see that Aurora is drooling while looking at Kev. I clench my jaw and wave my hand in their direction.

“Aurora, this is Kev Moller, Dane Moller’s son. And Kev, this is Aurora, my best friend.”

After a brief silence, both Aurora and Kev burst out laughing as if they were sharing some private joke, and I feel oddly left out. “What?” My brows fly up.

Aurora is still smiling and looks at me. “Actually, we already met at my restaurant.”

I pretend to smile and loop my arm through hers. “How sweet. Actually, I need to talk to my best friend in private, so excuse us.”

Kev raises his brow, and I don’t give him time to protest as I tug Aurora away. I drag her towards a quieter corner with slightly too much urgency.

Aurora squints. “What is the emergency?”

I sigh, forcing my tone to stay casual. I raise a finger.

“First—there’s no emergency.”

I lift a second one.

“Second—why didn’t you tell me about your encounter with Kev?”

Aurora seems more interested in the decor of my house than in the conversation we’re having. She looks around the living room like she is searching for something—or someone. I grab her shoulders lightly.

“What the hell are you looking at?”

Aurora shrugs. “What is this?” She is pointing her finger all around the house.

I am not following her, so I squint and try to answer her question. “It’s a party. In my house. What else?”

She teases me with a smirk. “This is cute; however, this party lacks oomph.”

She keeps spinning her finger in the air. I give her a dead stare.

“Thanks, Martha Stewart.”

And she laughs. I roll my eyes and point a finger at her.

“Ok, let me clarify, Aurora Lorenzo: this is my office party at my penthouse, not a girls’ night out at Galaxy.”

Before she asks another question, I turn towards the counter, grab two glasses of whiskey, and hand one to her. I clink mine against hers. Take a sip and savor the burn.

“I hope the food from Tappa Italiana gives this party a little oomph,” referring to the catering from Aurora’s Italian restaurant tonight.

Aurora gulps her drink in one go; once again, she ignores what I am talking about and starts something new.

“Who wears shorts and a crop top when hosting a party?” She puts her glass back on the counter and points at me.

“ME.“

I shrug while taking another sip of my whiskey.

“You should have worn a dress with heels, not these hideous sneakers.” Aurora’s eyes travel from my head to toe

She never approves of my clothes, and I never take her advice seriously. “Hey, I am wearing Converse, and this is a brand.”

Aurora pouts and starts tapping her finger on her chin. “How many centuries old are these Converse?”

I ignore her question as she ignores mine. “Also, I’d rather stay on the ground than five or six inches over it.”

Before Aurora gets into detail about my years-old stuff, I excuse her to meet my friends/office team because I see them arrive. I gently snap my fingers at a guy who is serving drinks. He looks at me, and I smile at him, doing a side nod to my friends.

“Drinks, there.”

Blaine salutes me with his two fingers. “Madam Chief,” I gave him one glass. “May I say, this party is dangerously editorial tonight?”

I tilt my head and laugh. “I’ll take that as gospel.”

Blaine is the managing editor of Zoisite. He uses few words in conversation. He is tall and muscular; he is an excellent fighter, has blue eyes and black hair, is always casually styled, has pale skin, and is serious and reserved. He’s wearing a fitted sky-blue button-down with sleeves casually rolled to his forearms, his arm tattoos visible, paired with dark blue pants.

Justin raises his glass and asks everyone, “Remember when Ridley made her rewrite that headline about a hundred times for not sounding edgy enough?”

Justin is the marketing head of Zoisite. He is calm and an excellent listener. He always makes the best decisions when it comes to work. He has a tall, toned body. He is obsessed with workouts and gyms; he has grey eyes, thick brownish-black hair always styled back, fair skin, and a sharp jawline. He is wearing a black button-down shirt open at the collar with dark jeans.

I roll my eyes. “I still twitch when I hear the word ’moody.” I exhale.

Gretchen comes forward and hugs. “When I first saw you with Blaine, Justin, and Alyssa on the first day as an intern, I said to myself, ′ She can make people listen.”

Gretchen is the creative head of Zoisite. She is exceptionally sharp at reading people, situations, and secrets. Her memory, attention to detail, and instincts make her impossibly good at everything. She is average in height and slender, with a statuesque posture, expressive green eyes, red hair always styled in loose waves, and porcelain-like skin. She is wearing a burgundy tailored sheath dress.

I open my mouth, but Alyssa chimes in, holding her drink and smirking. She reminds Gretchen. “You were also an intern like us; how could you be so visionary at that age?”

Alyssa is the head of sales at Zoisite. She is a workaholic and constantly strives for perfection in her job. I never see a satisfied expression on her face, no matter how excellently she performs. She is of average height and slim, with light brown hair always styled sleek and straight, and grayish-blue eyes. She is dressed in an emerald green silk blouse and a black pencil skirt.

I drop my hands down with full force to make them silent. “Guys, who would’ve imagined, back when we were all just teenagers, we’d end up here, running the entire fashion magazine?”

Carter, like always, chips in last. “I may be the last to join this misfit gang.”

He raises his glass. “But cheers to the girl who went from Ridley’s least favorite to the chief of the magazine.”

Carter joined the company about three months ago, and he works with Gretchen. He looks curious and always asks a lot of questions. As the most junior, everyone loves to tease him and sometimes make fun of him, but when it comes to work, he always proves he is the rising star at Zoisite. He is tall and lean but not a gym-obsessed type, with dark brown eyes, a boyish look, and medium brown hair, always neatly styled. He is dressed in a grey tee and charcoal jeans.

We clink glasses, our laughter blending with the music. I look around, and seeing that everyone has arrived, I decide to go for the toast. I walk into the hall, lower the music, and tap my spoon against my glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Everyone! It’s time!” I start to hear huffs and hushes. I sniff and smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t give a long speech. I really appreciate you all coming to this party, especially Blaine, Carter, Alyssa, Justin, and Gretchen. I know we’ve come a long way, but we still have a long way to go. Cheers.”

My eyes fall on Kev, surrounded by a circle of girls. I grunt and shake my head. I don’t get what they see in him; each girl in the city would probably give up her life for a night with him. To the whole of Glisten, he’s charming, attractive, and untouchable. To me, he’s the closest thing to Satan that I can think of.

“Am I late?” A voice comes from behind me. I turn around, anger flashing in my eyes.

“No, you’re late for my next promotion party.”

Blake always wants me to do as he says. He hands me the flower.

“Come on, show some respect. I am your elder brother.”

He is dressed in a white crew-neck T-shirt, dark brown chinos, white leather sneakers, and a dark brown Zegna blazer. He is a baseball star.

I shrug and smile at him. “You know it; I can’t stay mad at you for more than a minute.”

He opens his arms. “Because I am too good.”

I hug him.

“No, because I love you so much.” While pulling away, I look around. “Where is Thea?”

Blake scratches the back of his neck and opens his mouth, but Ian arrives. “Congrats, Mar.”

He is Blake’s best friend.

I swing my eyes between them. “I swear you two have a talent for coming late.”

Ian scratches the side of his nose. “Some of us don’t have an army of friends at work. I run a gym alone.”

I open my mouth to tell Ian that was a low blow, but Blake interrupts and tilts his head. “Go to your guests, Chief. You can interrogate us later.”

I narrow my eyes but nod. As soon as I turn, both of them run toward the terrace. I make my way toward the bar, and my phone buzzes. While taking it out of my pocket, I bump hard into Kev. I spill a few drops of wine on him. Even though I feel bad, I still show him my false bravado. I press my lips to hide a smile.

“Well…it’s a good thing you’re wearing black.”

Kev raises his brow, with a crease starting to show up on his forehead.

“Is that your way of apologizing?”

In my head, I kill him at least ten times. I don’t want any drama, so I lead him towards the guest bathroom.

I try to be a nice host.

“I heard you are not seeing anyone this season.”

I refer to his girlfriends as seasonal, like spring and fall, because none of them have ever lasted longer than six months.

“Why are you so interested in my personal life, or do you want to be my girl this fall?”

A sharp breath catches in my throat, and I look at him. I feel his breath on my forehead. My hand is on his chest as I try to get rid of an unseen stain, but his heartbeat matches mine, making it hard for me to move away. He leans in and crashes his lips against mine. Fuck, it feels so good. I lost the courage to push him away.

Then he pulls me closer with force. His actions should have taken me aback, yet my body seems to respond instinctively. I feel irresistibly drawn to him. I wrap my arms around his neck as he places his hands on my lower back. I part my lips, and he gently plunges his tongue, deepening the kiss. Just as I am about to run my fingers through his hair, a voice in my head interrupts the moment. What the fuck are you doing, Mar?

I open my eyes and push him away. I am breathing unevenly. “Stay away from me.”

Kev smirks as he wipes my lipstick from his lips, his eyes fixed on me with a look of something unreadable: a blend of satisfaction and quiet triumph.

I grunt and turn towards the mirror and fix myself, trying to erase the remnants of a moment that has burned far too brightly. It feels as if we have both finally scratched an itch that has been tormenting us for far too long, and an ache neither of us has dared to speak of.

Without a word, I turn away from him and storm out. I blend into the crowd and act as though nothing has happened. But it isn’t that easy. No matter how much I smile or nod during conversation, Kev consumes my mind.

His smirk, his touch, the heat of his lips. I don’t know when he left the party, nor did I allow myself to look for him. Still, the ghost of our moment clings to me like smoke, impossible to ignore.

After a while, I find Blake standing on the terrace, looking spaced out.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or should I activate my Nancy Drew mode?”

I arch my brows and put my hands on my waist.

Without looking at me, he states, “Thea and I are taking a break from each other.”