THE BILLIONAIRE'S GIRLFRIEND

NINE

Malora closed the door and went into the bathroom and switched on the lights. In the immaculate space she was a stranger with a beautiful hairdo.

She stared at herself.

The night stretched out in front of her. She was excited and fearful of what it would bring. She sat on the toilet seat for a moment to compose herself.

Malora took her dress out of the exclusive-looking bag Laura packed it in and hung it up in the bedroom. Then she ran a bath, added jasmine oil, stepped into it, and, laying back, closed her eyes, but she was too nervous and excited to relax and after a few minutes she got out and, wrapping herself in a fluffy bathrobe that smelled of squashed berries, she went into the kitchen.

In the fridge there Malora found two bottles of champagne laying on their sides. She remembered the last time when she stood in the balcony and drank to her nephew's health. This time champagne didn't seem appropriate. She closed the door restlessly and went to the liquor cabinet. There Malora poured myself a very large shot of Glenfidddich. Standing by the bar she knocked it back. It ran like fire into her empty stomach, but it had the desired effect of almost immediately settling her nerves. She looked at her hands. They had stopped shaking.

Malora eent back into the bathroom and carefully applied her make-up.
Three layers of mascara, a touch of blusher, light bronzer, and red lipstick. She moved away from the mirror to stare at her reflection.

"Good job, McCarran, not bad."

Malora went back to the alcohol counter and poured herself another large whiskey, downed it and, feeling decidedly light-headed and, devil may care, went to the bedroom. She took her beautiful teal dress off the hanger and changed into it. As she gently eased it over her head a hook caught on her hair and pulled a lock out of place. She stared in horror at the dangling lock. Cursing, Malora tried to twist it and push it back into place.

Her efforts were somewhat successful and she sighed with relief. Malora zipped up and stepped into her shoes and looked at herself in the mirror.

A sophisticated woman with glittering eyes and high color stared back. Too much blusher. With cotton wool she removex it all. The heat and the alcohol had tinged her cheeks pink. No need for blusher. She dabbed her finger with perfume and touched it behind her ears.

There she was, ready for the great Pitts.

*

Malora killed ten minutes pacing the balcony tiles in my Cinderella shoes. At 8:00 exactly Henry rang the bell. His eyes widened when she opened the door.

"That’s a beautiful outfit, Miss McCarran," he said, with an embarrassed cough. He was holding a long cardboard box, which he awkwardly slipped onto the side-table.

Malora looked at it and felt the color rush up her neck. Holy Mother of all that's holy! Titan really meant for this to be a re-creation of their first night together.

As the lift descended she wondered where Henry was taking her. The last time, she and Titan never got to go out. Instead, she's stayed in door and was dressed in an embarrassing T-shirt when he came in.

The Big Fish was filled with the same sort of people that had populated it the last time she was there. If this was a re-creation of their first dinner together, too then Malora knew what would happen under the table. She turned her head, searching for him. And there he was.

Waiting at the bar.

Malora's heart stopped.

He was wearing a charcoal suit, black shirt and a white tie, and he was the most beautiful man in the place...but that was not it… Malora was being eaten alive by his eyes. For a long moment she stood frozen, simply caught and staring back at the hunger in his stormy gray eyes. It was so naked and raw it shocked her.