THE BILLIONAIRE'S GIRLFRIEND

THIRTY FOUR

Titan knew, before the call he received in Venice, that things had changed between he and Malora. The huge row they had proved it; both of them had said things that showed how little each trusted each other. But wasn't the whole point of starting over again showing trust by telling her about the secrets he'd held close to his heart?

Wherever had playing safe got him?

Now, as they drove toward his home in Mayfair, the starless, dark London sky obscuring everything on earth, and the cold fogging up the car window's glasses, she'd Withdrawn completely from him, which hurt, but was understandable. Her mind would be focused solely on finding her sister, and the thought of their rocky relationship far from her mind.

Even in the dark, Titan could see her silent tears, which hurt him. The fact that she was hiding her sorrow from him hurt; but he'd made his own bed. When he'd requested to hold her and she agreed, it'd been a blessing in itself. The rest of the ride home was spent in silence as she slept, and he watched her. When they finally arrived home, he shook her awake and held her hand in his as he walked them into the house.

The house looked clean and well kept, thanks to the maid, who came in twice each week to clean the place and make it habitable for he and his guests. They'd barely crossed the threshold when Malora a broke away from him, murmuring about wanting a drink of water. Titan knew she needed space, and was just trying to spare his feelings.

Feeling lost, Titan wandered over to his wet bar to pour himself a drink. He'd barely gotten the tumbler down when his phone began to ring. The displayed name made his stomach clench. He chanced a brief glance at the kitchen doorway to see if Malora had returned from the kitchen and was relieved to see that she hadn't. He swiped the green button.

"Good evening." His tone lacked emotions, something he was very good at doing. Especially when it came to this particular caller.

He listened for a few minutes, eyes sharp, and pulse thundering, then said; "I'll be with you shortly."

Titan hesitated long enough to consider telling Malora that he was heading out, but decided against it. She was already worried enough as it was, and he'd be adding to it.

Decision made, he left the house. Since Henry had retired for the night, Titan chose to drive himself. He picked the silver Tesla he bought for this purpose and tore out of the garage like a bat from hell. Traffic was marginally better than earlier, so he was able to made the drive to Piccadilly in a short while. As he drove up the long driveway to his family house, Titan ruffled his hair so it looked messy, and loosened the two top button of his shirt. He opened the compartment box, rummaged around, then grabbed the gun he'd stashed there. He opened the chamber, then snapped it shut when he saw that it still had its full bullet. A quick search under the driver's seat yielded another gun. This one had only two bullets left in it, but it was more lethal than the first.

When he finally pulled up in front of the grand steps leading into the house, Titan had shed whatever made him human, and was back to a cold blooded killing machine. This was who he needed to be tonight if he wanted to keep his other life a secret. Any sign of weakness would end with a bullet between Malora's skull. It was that simple, yet dangerous.

He stashed both guns in the waist band of his jeans after clicking on their safety. It wouldn't do to shoot himself in the butt, after all.

Their butler, Andrew—a sixty year old man with a physique that spoke of strict training—was waiting by the door when Titan got there. "Good evening, Mr. Pitts."

Titan nodded. "Andrew."

The man eyed him for a moment, then opened the door without any dramatic flourish some butler's seemed to possess. Titan walked into the house, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. The hallway was empty, except for the antiques on a long, polished shelf, and the slightly horrendous paintings his mother liked to call art. That it was empty didn't assure him he was safe, so he kept his guard up until he entered the receiving room where his mother sat on a single arm chair; the chair had a very throne-like look, what with its long back that had the shape of a sleeping lion, and it's huge arms, also done to look like a lion's paw.