For a moment Malora was struck dumb by Lorena's perceptiveness.
Then her great, great love for her intervened and she lied and lied and lied. 'You only say that because you have not met Titan yet. He is beautiful and strong and kind. It was love at first sight. When I told him about Louis, he gave double what he knew I needed.'
Lorena sighed. 'I pray to God that you will not make the same mistake I made. I hope there would be a wedding.'
Malora felt the hollowness spread through her body. It doesn't matter, she told herself fiercely. So what if her sister would be disappointed? All that counted was her baby would be cured. Malora would forget this one in time and marry someone else, another who would not consider her so lowly that she was only fit to be hidden away like a dirty little secret. Someone with a beautiful heart.
*
Back at One Hyde Park, Malora lounged on the expensive gold and cream sofa, when she got a message on her drug dealer phone. It was from Titan. He indicated that he was taking her out for dinner by eight.
Since it was just a few minutes to seven, she decided to call her Mika—best friend—who was vacationing in Russia.
'Hey, Malora,' Mika said, her voice sounding all breathy.
'Did I catch you at a bad time, Mika?'
'Uh. . .what? No. No. I'm good
What's up?'
Malora knew her friend was up to something, but she let it go. Mika would tell when she was ready. 'I finally got enough money to send Louis to America.'
Mika gasped. 'You finally went through with it?'
'Yes, I did,' Malora said.
'I need a fag, hold on.' There was sounds of rustling, after a while, Mika continued, 'I don't believe it! The bastard agreed to cough up fifty grand?'
'Actually, it wasn't him.'
Malora imagined her friend holding up a hand like she did whenever she was confused. 'Back up, back up. What?'
'OK, I did ask him, but he turned out to be a total pervert; you won't believe what his idea of a good time is. Fortunately, someone else cut in and gave triple of what I had asked him.'
'Bloody hell!' screamed Mika.
'Keep your voice down,' she whispered.
'Triple, as in two hundred thousand pounds?'
'Yes.'
'So who is this guy then?'
'Have you heard of the Pitts?'
'Who? Hold on, don't answer that. I am getting my laptop right now.'
Malora patiently waited for her friend to set up her laptop. The other end of the line seemed quiet except for Mika's breathing. Then she whistled low and long. 'Oh! Mr. Bombastic, call me fantastic. I thought all the best-looking males were gay?'
Malora flushed. She bit her lower lip and advised, 'check Wikipedia.'
'Holy shit, Malora! I leave you for a week and you've gone and bagged yourself a billionaire? One whose family owns a banking and financial services dynasty?' Mika seemed to be reading aloud from what she was reading. Malora let her. 'They even own palaces, wineries, yacht racing luxury hotels, grand houses, charity homes. . .they even collect art?'
Malora made a noise that would have passed as humming had it passed her lips.
'These people are fucking elusive. No news of them in media. They are like the freaking mafia! So much information about all they own, fucking marriages from the seventh century. . .and check this one out. Their assets as at 2018 is one hundred billion! My God, Malora!
'Look at those houses, palaces and such. So gigantic it's making me dizzy.' Mika took a very deep audible breath and asked, 'are you allowed to visit these places?'
'No. I signed a confidentiality agreement. Our engagement is definitely under the wraps.'
'Oh.' The wind seemed to have taken off her sails. 'It's all so exciting, Malora. Just don't fall in love with him.'
'I won't.'
'Just be careful, okay? People like the Pitts eat people like us for appetizer. Whatever you do, don't fall in love with him.'
'I won't,' Malora said confidently. 'How's Russia?'
'Cold. It makes me miss England, you know.'
Malora laughed. 'I miss you too.' A quick glance at her watch told her she had thirty minutes to get ready. 'I have to go now. I'll call you later.'
'You better, Bitch! Love ya.' Some kissy sounds accompanied the words.
'I love you, too.'
*
Malora was fastening her hoop earrings when she heard someone at the front door. Stomach churning, she stood away from the dressing table and looked at her reflection. Deep blue eyes highlighted by mascara and smoky eyebrow stared back at her. Her makeup was light, enhancing her delicate features. It was times like this Malora appreciated her creamy complexion.
She was wearing her Alexander McQueen dress; the dress was red. A deep wet sort of red. A red that slithered behind your eyes and rubbed against your hypothalamus. The fabric was soft, with a slight tooth to the hand. It had a high boat neck, brushing just over the top of her clavicle, but with a fitted bodice. Not too tight, but enough to engage her small breasts and cling gently to the curve her body made from torso to waist. Long fitted sleeves and a slight flare from the hips, ending just below her knees. In the back, the dress fell from the centre seams of the sleeves in a deep V—and she did meant—just above the crack of her ass. It was simple and elegant.
The colour looked so good with her hair and she know she had never looked so fine, but her heart was in her mouth. Malora was so nervous her hands were clammy. She wiped them and rubbed lotion into them. Then she slipped into her beautiful new red strappy heels, and left the bedroom.
Malora turned into the paneled corridor and heard him in the sitting room. He was looking down on the lighted view of London and had not heard her footfalls on the soft carpets. It was only when her reflection showed in the glass that he turned.
The crease of his pants leg looked very sharp and his shoes were beautifully polished. Her eyes moved upwards. He was wearing a cream suit and an opened soft white shirt. Her gaze traveled to his brown, strong throat toward the deliciously straight mouth and up to his eyes; dark and hooded and so full of secrets. They were watching her intently. Malora's breath caught. The flowers he sent were behind him.
'Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.'
'Come here,' he said and half sat on the table behind him. His voice was very soft. There was something in it Malora did not understand. She was twenty-three and he was a man of the world. She went willingly to him. He caught her by her waist and pulled her to him until she was trapped between his thighs. Malora felt the heat that came off his body.
'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I didn't know.'
She shook her head, embarrassed. 'You weren't to know. It's my fault. I should have warned you.'
'You look very beautiful tonight.' He watched her blush, making her light up even more, then ran his finger along her lower lip. 'Are you for real?' he whispered.
Malora looked at him without comprehension. He wanted to tell her something. But what? She didn't understand him at all. They were worlds apart. Maybe she shouldn't try to understand. This would all end in a month.
Without warning the expression in his eyes changed. His mouth twisted. Something cold crept into his eyes. 'We'd better go or we'll be late.'
Feeling the change Malora stepped away from him. Now she truly did not understand. Hot and cold. Perhaps it was a game. But he would not beat her. Malora could survive three months with him.
She thought of Lorena and said. 'Yes, we don't want to be late.'
He offered her the crook of his arm. His voice came out hostile and clipped. 'Shall we?'
Malora bit her lip. Now he was inexplicably angry with her. Nothing made sense. Why was he angry with her? Confused, she threaded her arm through his and they left the apartment.
The Big Fish was nestled in the middle of the English countryside, in a place called Bray. The women were all dressed to kill and the men were in dark suits. Malora had never been anywhere so glamorous, but it was bitter sweet: she lied to her sister. She was with this man as his whore. And all of this would come to an end in three months.
A young man with a French accent settled them into a waiting area and offered delicate little bites of food and two glasses of champagne. Waiters nodded and greet Titan by name as they passed. Apparently he was well known in this establishment.
The sommelier came to help select the wine that would perfectly complement the food they intended to have, but Titan knew exactly what he wanted.
'The 1995 Krug Clos d'Ambonnay'
The sommelier seemed pleased with Titan's choice. The wine was brought and presented to Titan. When he nodded, it was uncorked and a small amount was poured into a deep glass and given to Titan. He swirled it, sniffed it delicately, and pronounced it acceptable.
A fifth of Malora's glass was filled. She raised it to her lips and taste it. What passed for wine until now seemed like abrasive mixtures of grape juice and vinegar. With complicated scents that delicately teased and a distinctively smooth taste that slid down her throat, the wine was truly splendid.
Malora studied the menu with fascination. It was no wonder that this restaurant is so famous. It had a uniquely original menu. There was even something called the mad hatter's tea party with mock turtle soup, a pocket watch and a toasted sandwich. Then there was fish porridge, prawn biscuits and quail jelly, chicken served with strawberry mayonnaise, shaved fennel and red cabbage gazpacho with mustard ice cream, and something else she couldn't recognize served with oak moss and truffle oil.
Titan chose roasted foie gras to start. Malora sighed inwardly. She was not eating force-fed goose liver.
The waiter looked at her. 'I won't bother with a starter, thank you.'
Titan ordered the lamb with cucumber.
'I'll have the same,' she murmured.
The waiter moved away, and Titan looked at her strangely. His eyes were pitying. 'You can't read, can you?'
He'd head tilted back. 'Of course I can. I am a qualified accountant.'
'Why did you order the same thing as me? Also, Mr. Marshall mentioned that you just skimmed through the contract.'
She shrugged. 'I am a quick reader and there is no harm in ordering the same thing as you is there?'
'No.'
'Thank you.'
'So what have you done today?'
'Well, I went to visit my sister. Plus, I am searching for a job, since my last boss let me go for inappropriate behaviour.'
He frowned. 'I don't want you to work for the duration of our contract.'
'Why?'
'Because I want you to be available to me day and night. I might want to have you at three in the morning or between meetings in the afternoon,' he explained brutally, and Malora felt the most surprising sexual thrill clenched at her lower belly. She wanted to be available to this man day and night! 'It should be no problem for you.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Don't you live on an estate where nobody works and everybody just scrounges off the state?'
Malora shook her head in wonder. 'Wow, that's one sweeping generalization you've just made there!'
'Why, is it not true?'
'While I was a child growing up my teachers and the governmental offices where my mother had to go for her weekly handouts, in subtle and unsubtle ways, tried to force into my sister and I the opinion you have just expressed. That we were parasites.' She looked him in the eye. 'But I always knew there was something inherently wrong about any train of thinking that could so conveniently dismiss all the unemployed and dependent population as parasites. And yet we did seem to be living off others. Then one day I learned the true nature of the parasite and it changed my life.'
He raised an eyebrow. Arrogant sod!
She smiled. It does not reach her eyes. 'I learned that a successful parasite is one that is not recognized by its host, one that can make its host work for it without appearing as a burden. As such it must be the ruling class in every capitalist society that is the real parasite.'
'Why do you say so?'
Their food arrived. It looked more like a work of art than food. Malora reached for the rounded spoon that has been placed furthest away.
He picked up his knife and fork. 'I'm kind of waiting for your reply.'
'Have you ever thought that people can be poor by design. When a child is born on the estate, he is already doomed to repeat his father's life. He will bear that same angry, helpless attitude of his father and never amount to much. In school he will be taught only to be a good worker. And if he has even a bone of rebellion in him he will refuse and become a scrounger. My mother was educated in a different country and she was from the middle class so she taught us middle class values. Work, earn money, pay your own way.'
'So why do you work only part-time?'
'I do that because my sister's son is often sick and I assist her as his other carer.'
'What's wrong with your nephew?
'Cancer.'
'Oh.'
'He will make it,' she said forcefully.
He nodded slowly. 'Are you a Muslim?'
Malora sat back and watched Titan while their plates were cleared away. The hard planes of his face had been softened. There was a mad desire in her to reach out and stroke his face.
'No, our parent were devout Christians.'
'Main course,' announced the waiter, and plates were lowered onto the table.
Her salmon was encased in a tiny square parcel made of liquorice gel, and looked almost too beautiful to eat. Malora lifted the fish knife and cut it open. Inside, the fish was perfectly cooked. She slipped a tiny morsel past her lips, and was surprised by how delicate and silky it was on her tongue.
'I have a very big favor to ask you,' she said.
He raised his eyebrows.
'It is very important to me.'
'Sure,' he said.
'You agreed without knowing what I am going to ask?'
'When people say I need a very big favor its bound to be a small thing. It is when they ask for a small favor that I start worrying. So, what is it you want?'
'My sister has invited you around to dinner. It's just the once. You will have to pretend to be my boyfriend,' Malora said so quickly the words almost ran into each other.
'What sort of thing will I have to do to convince her that I am your boyfriend?'
'Just the usual. Hold hands, a quick kiss. Nothing too heavy.'
He smiled cynically. 'I think I can manage that.'
'Thank you. I owe you one. Maybe one day you will need a favor and I can do something to help you.'
'I'll remember that,' he said, and fell silent. But the silence was not uncomfortable and they finish their main meal without further conversation.
He ordered the macerated strawberries for dessert.
'I'll have the same,' she told the waiter.
Titan grinned. 'I thought you might go for the Dripping Sugary Goodness,' he said
'I nearly did,' she admitted. 'Do you know what's in it?'
'Just a selection, I guess. Want to change your mind?'
'No.'
The dessert was so delicious Malora wished Lorena could try it. After the handmade chocolates, the bill arrived. She caught a glimpse of it. It was over four and a half thousand pounds. That was more than they spend on food for a whole year. It must be good to be so rich.
Malora looked at him in shock. He raised his eyes and returned her look. His eyes were sultry and slumberous.
And suddenly he seemed devastatingly, impossibly handsome, but so aloof and unreachable that it was almost as if she had her nose pressed against a glass window and she was looking in at something she could never have.
Just like the poor match girl from Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale who had to keep lighting her last matchsticks to see the fantastically beautiful sight in front of her.
When the matches run out she died.
A/N:
What a grim tale.
I hope you're doing better and are keeping safe? Please, maintain the safety protocols and remain safe!
Did you expect Titan to agree that easily to the dinner invitation?
Why does he change his moods so quickly?
Do you think Malora is already in too deep or no?
Just a quick reminder to vote, comment and share❤❤❤❤❤.