𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚂𝚘𝚗.

Chapter 7

The following morning, Damola woke up with a hangover, and felt himself slump on his bed, like an old sack of bones. When he finally managed to peel his eyes open, he met the face of an unknown girl, sleeping next to him. Surprised, he scooted away from her and took notice of his surroundings. He wasn't at the suite he shared with Chelsea. He was at a hotel, yes, but it wasn't his father's hotel. He was somewhere else.

Confusion smacked it's way to his face, with its wrenched claws. He couldn't remember what had happened the previous night, and he found himself struggling so hard to remember. Stepping out of the covers, he realised he wasn't properly dressed, but naked, and immediately knew it must've had something to do with the girl lying next to him on the bed. He grunted, and scanned the room for his clothes. He finally found his pantsuit, which was dumped at a corner of the large hotel room. He quickly put it on, and searched for the rest of his clothes.

"Good morning." He heard a soft, fragile voice, say. He turned to look at the girl, who had just woken up. That was when he finally took the time to observe her.

She was really pretty, no doubt. And she had dark skin, and a slender face. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and her bare face was equally just as unpleasant. But she had a beautiful face, though — Damola observed. Finally, he tore his eyes away from her, and got to putting on the rest of his clothes.

"What happened last night?" He asked, with his back turned against her.

The girl chuckled. "You mean you don't remember all the fun we had last night?"

Instead of replying her, Damola grabbed the rest of his things and turned to glare at her. "Just answer the darn question!" He half-yelled, and she shrugged. She used the cover to wrap her naked body perfectly, and sat up straight.

"What else? You were drunk, and we had sex." She said, and he ran a hand through his disheveled dreads.

"I don't even know who you are." He deadpanned, trying to recall anything from last night.

"That's the thing. You were so high, that you barely even knew what you were doing. But what's my business? I had my fun. It was nice." She grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes.

"How much?" He asked, reluctantly, as he got money out of his wallet.

The girl seemed to be offended, and quirked an inquisitive brow at him. "Excuse you, but I'm no prostitute. I don't need your money." She replied, bitterly. She had a hurt expression on her face, and he sighed and put his money back, into his wallet.

"Sorry." He murmured, and headed for the door, but stopped and turned around again. "What happened when you met me? I mean, where was I?" He couldn't help but ask.

"At a club." She yawned a reply, and he nodded in understanding.

"Then how did we get here?" He asked again.

"Your driver drove us here." She shrugged, and he thanked her for the info, and left.

He couldn't believe how stupid he had been. He couldn't even remember what led him to a club in first place. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks, his mind raced with urgency, as well. Where was Chelsea?

* * *

When he got back to his father's hotel, he hurriedly headed to the suite he shared with Chelsea, hoping to find her there. But to his horror, the second he got there; Chelsea was nowhere to be found.