THE BILLIONAIRE'S GIRLFRIEND

EIGHTEEN.

"There's no news about what happened to Louis's body," Titan had said last night after the meal.

According to him, there were no news about where he was buried or even if he was cremated. The file she'd also gotten from the PI revealed nothing new either. So, it still turned out that his whereabouts and Lorena's was still a mystery.

To distract herself, Malora threw herself into surfing the internet for an inspiration, and she got it in form of writing. Although she couldn't make a sense of what it was she was writing, it still felt good to loose herself in the world of fiction. Then she stumbled on several reading apps that had her getting lost in the world of fiction. For a few hours, she pretended to be that heroine in the story who got a happy ending in the end, after all the hard ships, with the man of her dreams.

After restocking her food supplies, which consisted of bags of chips and water, Mika called and after they shared the information about what was going on in each other's lives— Mika getting all upset about Lorena and Louis's death—they long-distance watched an episode of Money Heist, Malora, curled on the sofa, Mika apparently still in bed with a raging hangover and not consistently conscious.

She was back in the study and back at writing—go Malora—when her phone rang.

It was Lloyd, of course, because the man existed to arrive just when she was at her worst. "Come on, we're leaving."

"Oh my God." Malora finished having a minor heart attack. "When did you arrive in London?"

She could almost see his smirk. "I took  two days to recuperate."

Malora narrowed her eyes. "Is Mika aware that you're in London?"

"No," he said.

Of course his sister wasn't keeping tabs on her brother's every move, he was an adult for godsake.

Malora glanced at the time on her phone surprised at how quickly the day had passed. She'd damned well worked a nine to six, if you discounted the fact that she'd gone shopping with the black card, watched TV, and not got up at nine. But she was definitely getting there.

"Where are we going?"

"I told you. Out."

"Okay. Okay." She closed the laptop. "Let me get changed."

Malora settled for jeans and her Boy George T-shirt T-shirt. A present from Mika, it was just stylized eye, very blue, with a slash of brow, a touch of makeup and a single colored tear sliding from the corner.

But the queen liked Boy George, right?

She flung her leather jacket over the top, grabbed her phone and she was ready to go. Lloyd was waiting for her in the lobby of the building. They headed out of the building and down the street. It was actually shaping to be a fairly nice evening. Not exactly warm because, obviously, England, but the sky was swirly blue and a place silver orb was hanging in it. It was probably the sun, she'd seen that on the internet. Lloyd produced a pair of glasses and put them on. Combined with his blue leather jacket, stone-washed jean, and heavy boots, he looked like a walking lethal weapon. Not that she ever thought of him that way. Okay, maybe once.

Malora had had something of a crush on him back in her early teen years, but he never took notice of her. Now that she knew he felt a little bit of something for her, it was kind of painful and awkward. A year had passed though, and he didn't seem to still harbor such feelings for her.

They walked into Hyde Park through the Albert gate. At least, Malora thought it was the Albert gate—it was sandwiched between a couple of embassies, wide enough to admit a carriage, and there were bizarre statues of animals on either side of it, which struck her as a thing Victoria was liable to put her husband's name on. It led to a sandy avenue lined by trees, broken up in some places by wrought-iron lampposts.