There was a car waiting for them at Heathrow—a proper billionaire car this time, with a driver—to take them to One Hyde Park. It felt odd coming back. Malora couldn't have called it a homecoming because she was pretty sure that shining glass monster would never feel like home, but she was in a way more comfortable than she had been the first time she'd stepped into its gold and marble maw.
Now it was a familiar gold and marble maw. Put it that way.
Unfortunately Titan didn't stay. She hadn't expected him to, but it didn't stop the swell of disappointment from whichever organ generated the stuff. The balked duct.
He was, however, very nice about leaving. No vanishing abruptly into the night like the hero-villain from a gothic novel. There was only an apology, and a kiss on her nse before he left. Which was something he seemed to be making rather a habit of. Not that she was complaining. It was just unexpected. Even—hah—romantic.
And Malora's nose did have this very slight, almost questioning up tilt at the end, like maybe it was waiting for him. Nasal care dispensed, he wished her a good night and promised to see her soon. After the way he acted at the Island, she expected him to leave abruptly, not stop to follow her upstairs. He even carried her box!
Malora trailed him into the hallway trying not to look too desolate and puppyish, and probably failing hard.
He hesitated in the doorway. For a happy moment, she thought he might be about to change his mind, but all he said was, 'You should find something to do while I'm away.'
'Like what?'
'What do you like doing most, aside from what accounting?'
'Writing,' she replied, color staining her cheeks. 'I wrote articles for my school news at the time. I minored in English.'
'Try writing then.' He combed a hand through his already messy hair. 'I will see you later.'
Titan really did leave after that. He had his phone out as he stepped into the elevator, immediately back into work mode. And she was, once again, alone in One Hyde Park.
But it wasn't so bad. And, God, Malora was spoiled. There were homeless people. And here she was, conceding that an extravagant, exclusive apartment in central London was 'not so bad.'
After calling Lorena to ask about how the treatment was going, Malora unpacked and changed into her whale print lounge trousers for the sake of her ass. Although not before she'd spent some time admiring the tan lines in the bathroom mirror.
Then she arranged herself, stomach-down on the bed, and got to grips with the emails sh'd neglected while in Mystery Island. Malora even made a spreadsheet so she could keep track of what she'd written, where she's sent out, and what the outcome was.
And, okay, it was only five lines long but it was still a motherfucking spreadsheet, motherfuckers.
Finally, she settled into brainstorming up some fresh ideas. Because Titan was right: she needed a new hobby while here or she would go out of her mind. Writing was it. And, no, it wouldn't make her a billionaire or change the world. But a lot of things that changed the world were actively bad. And this was what she wanted to do. But it's been a while since she wrote an article. But she had an idea of what she wanted to write, so she opened another spreadsheet.
Malora was so caught up in writing—a book entitled 'THE LITTLE DOVE' thought she could put together and send to Mills and Boons when completed—that was almost brain-hazed right through the ringing of her phone.
She scrabbled for it and answered about a second before she would have lost the call. 'Uh, hello?'
'Malora?'
Titan's voice, perhaps still the part of him most familiar to her, slipped down her spine like an unexpected caress. 'Oh. . .It's you. Hi.'
'Did I wake you?'
'N-no. I was just—what time is it?'
'It's late. Nearly midnight, I'm afraid.'
Malora guessed she'd stopped expecting more than terse little texts so this was almost as startling as it was gratifying. 'Is everything okay?'
'Yes, of course.' He sounded slightly flustered. And then fell silent.
An intriguing possibility crept into Malora's mind. 'Is this. . .I mean. . .do you miss me?'
'Actually, I thought you might prefer to hear from me personally because I won't be able to see you tomorrow as I'd hoped. I have a conference call that will likely take most of my evening.'
'Oh.'
Guess he hadn't changed that much after all. Their time on the Island was just an illusion then. Still, at least he'd phoned instead of sending one of his heart-crushing little texts.
'In fact, the whole week is looking somewhat overwhelming, and I need to be in Paris on Wednesday. Can we do Friday?'
'Sure.'
'I'm truly sorry.' He sighed. 'I would much rather be with you.'
God save her from men who can't make up their minds about what he wanted. All these hot and cold was driving Malora up the wall. Slowly
'And what if, by the time Friday rolls round, there's something else you absolutely have to do?'
'Kitten, I'm the owner and CEO of a multinational corporation. There will be times when I have to work, but I give you my word that I'll be here on Friday comehell, high-water, or the simultaneous collapse of the dollar, the yen, and the euro.'
Malora muttered balefully.
'What was that?'
'Calling me Kitten. It's cheating.'
'I won't if you don't want me to.'
'No, I do.' Fuck. She couldn't start an argument now. It couldn't be her first contribution to our newly, and strange relationship. And, besides, this was who Titan was. There was no point agreeing to bang a billionaire if you took issue with them, y'know, being a billionaire. 'Friday's fine. And if the entire global economy implodes I won't mind if you can't make it.'
Somehow Malora knew he was smiling. And when he spoke, his voice was all silk and menace and mirth. 'I was thinking you could perhaps arrange for sushi?'
Well. That was definitely promising. 'And what will you bring?'
'My tie.'
Malora made an undignified, gleeful squeaking noise. And then flailed desperately after sexy. 'I look forward to it, Mr. Pitts.'
There was another silence. She was fully expecting him to wish her good night and hang up and she would have actually been okay with that since she'd had more of Titan these past few days than she would have thought possible Mystery Island. But instead he asked: 'How's your. . .how are you feeling?'
'I am good.' Malora smiled, even though he couldn't see it. 'And I'll probably be thinking about you later too.'
'Is that so?'
'Oh yes. I'll be thinking of you. . . very. . .hard. . .indeed.'
He laughed—uninhibited for once and joyous. 'Is this how you've spent your evening?'
'What? No. That's going to be my reward. I've been super productive.'
'What have you been doing?'
Wow. . .this was. Wow. If life was Buzzfeed, it would definitely be near the top of the Titan's Best All Time Moments list. Titan Pitts had hurt me and fucked me, and was now asking about her day. And it was perfect. Like having a real boyfriend. Malora pushed her laptop aside and swooned into a happy heap on top of the duvet. 'I'll tell you but I need to know something first. Where are you right now?'
He hesitated for a moment. 'I'm on my balcony,' he said warily. 'Thinking about having a cigarette. Why?'
He smoked? Wow.
'I just wanted to be able to picture you while we talked.' And she could: waiting like Rapunzel at the top of some great glass tower, halo-ed in artificial gold from the city that lay at his feet. Malora wanted to tell him: you can come back to me. She wanted to beg: please don't be alone. But he already knew that. And at some point he was going to have choose for himself. So she went on lightly, 'It's not very exciting. I organized myself and drafted another couple of articles.'
'Would you send your piece to GQ?'
Eep. 'Technically. . .no.'
'Are no and technically no the same thing?'
'Kind of.'
'Is something holding you back?' he asked gently.
'You mean, apart from anxiety, insecurity, and raging imposter syndrome?'
'Yes.'
Malora sighed. 'I guess I keep tinkering pointlessly with it?'
Even little silences felt epic on the phone. Finally, he said: 'Would it help if you shared it with me?'
She blinked. 'Seriously? You want to read my crappy article?'
'Well, I did. But'—his voice turned teasing—'now you've told me it's crappy, I've changed my mind.'
'Hey, I'm just managing your expectations. I. . .um. . .I could read it to you. If you have, y'know. The interest.'
'Of course. Give me a moment.' Malora heard the click of a lighter. Followed by Titan's indrawn breath. 'How about we make a pact? You read it to me and then submit it to GQ.'
'What if you think it's terrible?'
'Unless I think it's terrible. But if I don't think it's terrible, you have to send it.'
'Um. All right.'
Wait. What was happening?
Had she really offered to read her article to Titan? And had he really said yes?
Malora was suddenly and completely overwhelmed by self-consciousness. This was a man whose time was so valuable he needed his own plane. Also, what if she sucked? What if she sucked so badly he stopped believing she was charming and special and adorable? What if she put him off wanting to fuck her?
Ahhhhhhh!
But then. Did she trust Titan or didn't she? In what deranged world did she lived in, that she was up for him tying her up and hittingher, but so-so on showing him some words she'd arranged into a particular order? And, hell, if Malora didn't have the bollocks to share this with someone who was demonstrably on her side, how in God's name was was going to face editors and publishers and a public who would have nothing else to judge her by?
So Malora did it. She read the damn article to Titan Pitts.
And he was. . .nice about it. She wished she could have seen his face, but he made soft, amused noises at the bits she'd intended to be funny and, afterward, he told her he liked it with just the right amount of conviction that Malora got all flustered and glowy. As praise went it was pretty straightforward, but any more and she would have felt patronized.
Malora was under no illusions that what she'd produced was a heartbreaking work of staggering genius. But she hoped it was, well, good enough to entertain someone while they were on the loo or stuck in a queue anyway.
'
You have a very engaging voice,' Titan said. 'Although, of course, I'm somewhat biased.'
Malora squirmed with pleasure. 'Thank you.'
'Given this is not my field and I have little experience or expertise to bring to bear, would my feedback have any value to you?'
And that was when Malora realized he was self-conscious too—in his own way—and wanting to be helpful. It steeled her nerves and made her nod pointlessly into the phone. 'Absolutely.'
Her trepidation wasn't entirely unjustified. You didn't become a billionaire through sensitivity and good karma. Malora was half expecting him to annihilate her—not maliciously, but by having no conception of how lesser mortals might feel about things. But he was actually perfect. Focused and thoughtful and. . .gentle, so that rather than leaving her crushed into the dust, Malora felt weirdly excited about what she'd written. The ways she could refine it and make it even better.
None of his observations were particularly harsh—they just drew her attention in small, careful ways to places where her meaning wasn't quite clear or the structure wasn't quite right. It wasn't anything any other moderately astute reader couldn't have told her. Except it was exactly what she needed. And it was even better because it was Titan.
Malora didn't for a moment believe this was how he interacted when he was billionaire-ing. But it still offered a glimpse of that side of him. A man who, for all his cold ways, his secrets, and his locked-up heart, understood people. And how to motivate and inspire them. 'I, ah, I hope it's useful,' he finished. 'I'm not exactly a literary critic.'
'It's wonderful. You're wonderful.'
He made a snuffly noise, which Malora thought might have been embarrassment. And was adorable. Then cleared his throat. 'Remember to send it to GQ.'
'I'm going to make these changes and I'll send it. Promise promise promise.'
'Then I should probably say good night.'
'I guess you probably should.'
Except. . .neither of them did. They just hung around in the silence like teenagers. Until Titan cleared his throat again. 'I'll see you on Friday.'
'I'm crossing my fingers for the future of the dollar, the euro, and the yen.'
'As am I. Good night, little dove.'
And then he was gone.
As laid down by the terms of her promise—and OMG, Titan could be the cutest sometimes—Malora gave her article one last edit and then fired it off to GQ. She really hoped they wanted it. Abandoned hospital rave seemed so them. It was quirky and unusual and—honestly—the whole affair had reeked of privilege. Of exclusivity and payoffs and self-conscious slumming. An ultimately upper-class hobby.
Malora also hoped the fact she'd sent it at 2 a.m. made her look like a wild party animal. Rather than just, say, horrendously unemployed.
Regardless, she felt shiny and accomplished as she put her laptop away and gingerly rolled herself up in the duvet. Malora did wonder how well she'd sleep, given the requirement to lie on my stomach.
But she didn't wonder long. Because in minutes she was gone. Blissfully, totally gone.
Chapter dedication: httpnayy13
A/N:
How was it?
Did you expect this side of Titan after the way he acted on the Island?
Do you think he has a soft spot for Malora, or. . .?