THE BILLIONAIRE'S LOVER

25 | IN WHICH SHE GETS AN UNEXPECTED VISIT

'And yet you're still looking for the thing that's wrong with it.'

Wow. She'd got Malora there.

'Wow,' Malora said, 'you got me there.'

Mika pulled her in closer and attacked Malora's hair until it was all fluffy and annoying. 'I'm really going to miss you.'

'I love you too.'

Malora snuggled down even farther. Vaguely turned her attention to Money Heist—people who broke into the bank to print out money and some hard-core gun fight. Mainly, though, Malora was thinking about what Mika had said and if it was true. She meant, yes, it was. Kind of.

Or maybe it was a totally different problem this time. Because, for once in her life, Malora didn't want out of a relationship: she wanted in one. But that meant finding her way—probably through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered—past the man Titan kept trying to be, the one who took her to a mystery Island by rote and touched her by rote and didn't seem to see her when he looked at her, to the one who had whispered to her down the phone, laughed with her, listened to her, comforted and believed in her. The man who had followed her to see her sister and was there when she most needed him to be there. And whose harsh kisses stripped bare his needs to her as surely as she bared hers to him.

What were they even doing?

*

The next day, Malora called a car to take Mika to the airport—just about managing not to ask Blake's permission this time—and since she wasn't exactly over endowed with things to do, went along with him.
Which was a daft move because saying goodbye at the airport turned out to be awful. It felt all final. And Malora got clingy as hell, trailing around the concourse with Mika, holding his hand like a kid at the supermarket. But then he wasn't exactly shaking her off either.

They parted at the last possible moment with a pathetic amount of hugging. Malora was crying openly and Mika was snuffling, because big girls don't cry.

'I'm going to come back and visit,' she said. 'I really need another one of those facials.'

Malora nodded. 'You'll need it. America is bad for the complexion.'

'And we can still Facetime and girly watch stuff.'

'Yep yep.'

'And you can obsessively like all my Instagram posts.'

'I only care about the ones where you're topless. Fuck this cappuccino foam art bullshit.'

'I made a little cat.'

'But were you topless?'

Mika laughed, then checked the time on her phone. 'Shit, I'd better go.'

Malora wiped her eyes and put on her best brave face. 'Travel safely.'

And that was. . .it. She guessed that was the thing about goodbyes: they were always smaller than you expected.

The flat seemed even quieter and emptier without Mika. And the worst of it was the cleaners had hit hard. The duvet was back on the bed—actually it was probably a fresh duvet, the other having been whisked off to be scoured of all traces of humanity—the leftovers were gone, and the champagne glasses were back in the cupboard. It was like Mika had never been here at all.

And there was still no call from Titan. Not surprising, honestly, because he'd warned her he was very busy. Probably he wasn't even in the country.

Malora located a branch of WHSmith and popped out to buy a copy of GQ. Spent the rest of the day trying to be witty on the subject of. . .of. . .well, that was kind of the kicker. Molten shell treatments? Finnish premium spring water? She tried, she really tried, but it didn't go well. She was too full of sads. And, in the end, Malora broke and rang Blake.