THE BILLIONAIRE'S GIRLFRIEND

SIXTEEN

Malora had no recollection of how she got home, but she did remember waking up several times in the middle of the night to throw up. She also remembered how Titan held her hair each time as she vomited into the trash can he provided for her.

By the time the first light of the new morning peeked through the blinds, Malora was secretly praying for swift death. Her head felt as if it would split into two and her whole body wasn't hers anymore. Who ever said drinking rather than thinking was a good idea?

Groaning from the pains richocheting through her head, she turned to see Titan sitting on a dining chair—he must have brought it from the parlour—and he was widely awake, watching her with gray eyes had held no hint of emotion. No surprise there.

"You're awake," he said, barley stirring from his reclined position on the chair. He must have a crick in his neck from sitting all night long.

Malora wondered about how long he'd been watching her. "Yes."

He got up from the chair and walked over to his side of the bed where the night stand was. She saw him reach for a glass filled with OJ and a bottle of aspirin. Then he returned to her side of the bed. "Sit up."

Malora sat up, resting her back against the headboard as she accepted his offering. Acutely aware of his gaze on her, she took the two tablet he offered and washed it down with the juice, grimacing all the way.

"Thank you," she murmured as he collected the glass and placed it on the nightstand by her side of the bed.

He returned to the chair he vacated earlier. "Malora, why did you drink so excessively last night?"

She looked down at her lap, and discovered that she was dressed in shorts and black tank top. He must have changed her clothes, but she didn't have a recollection of that happening. Also, what the hell happened last night after Nathaniel Pitts cornered her in the booth? Did she spill anything she wasn't supposed to?

"Malora?"

She shook her head and instantly regretted the decision when a hyoer toddler with a drum kit was unleashed in her head.

His gaze turned to concern. "Are you alright?"

"I think so."

He didn't believe her, yet he refrained from pressing the issue. "Will you tell me what happened? Henry said he took you to a café in the center of London, and when you returned you looked so troubled and worse for the wear. Then he took you to the club. It sounds a bit suspicious if you ask me."

Well, no one asked you.

Malora was surprised at the thought. She wasn't normally so snippy in the morning, but his questions were beginning to get on her nerves.

"Can I brush my teeth first?"

"Join me in the kitchen when you're done." He rose up and left the room with the chair.

She let out a tired sigh, tossed back the covers and got out of bed. The room looked clean enough and there wasn't the puke basket in sight. He must have discarded it. After brushing her teeth, Malora took a long, hot shower, and only got out when it began to run cold.

Feeling slightly better after her shower, she swapped her old clothes for sweats and a t-shirt that surely belonged to Titan, slipped her feet into flip-flops and went to join him in the kitchen.

He was plating two piece of dry toast when she arrived, and directed her to seat at the breakfast stool. "Dry toast helps with hangover and whatever nausea you must have left."

Malora nodded her thanks as she reached for one piece. It didn't trigger her gag reflexes so she bit into it. Titan set about making himself some toast after pouring her a glass of warm milk. She let her self observe him.