CHAPTER TWO

Bree woke up totally hung over with a headache threatening to blow her head open.

She knew she'd look like someone out of a zombie apocalypse movie, with her hair all over her face, but that was the least of her worries.

The throbbing in her head was borderline unbearable and it hurt to even move, but if it was any consolation, the bed she was in was just as comfy as it was soft.

Feather soft and definitely too good to be hers.

She cracked an eyelid open even though all she wanted to do was crawl in some very dark hole to nurse her throbbing head with an extra dose of sleep.

One look around confirmed her fears that this in fact wasn't her room.

The only reason she wasn't screaming yet was because she wasn't in any form of restraints or confinement.

That was a good sign right?

And yeah, you guessed it, it'd hurt like a scalded bitch if she tried.

She rolled out of the king sized bed, dragging her sore, rebelling body out.

How many drinks did she have again last night?

Obviously more than she should have indulged and that's probably the reason she felt like a long chewed and spat out gum.

She didn't want to spare a thought on the reason she'd ended up in the bar in the first place, it was fuck anyways.

But that memory lane brought to mind another that she really couldn't place her fingers on.

She dragged herself about the room as she tried to figure out how she'd ended up here.

Her memory lasted up until the time she came into Glitz, the bar, angry and tearing and that's it.

The rest was hazy and teasing.

The sheer size of the room put her averagely sized one to shame and she wondered how anyone could keep a solely white themed room spotless.

The bathroom was a luxury she could kill for with it's gold fittings and fixtures but she settled for just brushing her teeth with some new brush she'd found in the cabinet.

With her mouth brushed, face washed and unruly curls tamed into a bun she'd learnt in highschool, she was half ready to venture out in search of the missing pieces of this jigsaw puzzle.

And probably some aspirin too for her killer headache.

She turned the knob on the door, glad that it gave way and wasn't locked.

She might have resorted to that screaming if it had been.

There was a short hallway leading from her door to the top landing of a grand staircase adorned with golden banisters.

From what she's seen, it was easy to deduce that whoever owned this place was insanely loaded.

There was a distracting noise from somewhere downstairs and she knew whatever it was she was looking for, she had to go down there to find.

She went down the stairs as quietly as she could manage, careful not to make any noise or place the wrong footing as she went down.

Everywhere in the house was too bright for her poor, straining and hurtful eyes but she was maximizing the best of their visual as best as she could.

Just like she expected, the stairs lead to an exquisitely furnished sitting room with tasteful interior decorations and walls adorned with artworks.

There was something about the rich mocha theme and the silk finishes that affirmed her earlier decision on the owner of the place being monied.

She didn't have enough time to admire it all as another wracking noise came from somewhere south of the room, followed by barely audible streams of colorful curses.

She could perceive the choking smell of something burning too so she let her lower limbs ferry her in the direction of the noise and unpleasant smell.

Eventually, she found herself standing in a large kitchen with state of the art equipments and decor.

Even the utensils around the made her eyes roll.

They just had to put their money out in every trivial details probably to show their visitors that they were better off.

Looks arrogant and pretentious to her, if you asked.

Her roaming eyes came to an abrupt stop as they fell on the man in the room.

The one that was responsible for all the cursing and noise.

Damn, 'hot' was the only word that came to mind.

Standing in front of the gas stove and hauling smoking pans into the sink was a shirtless man in low hanging sweatpants with a back sculpted like a Greek god's.

He stood with his back straight in a posture and a gait that betrayed accustomed power and commendable strength.

He had a foul mouth befitting of a drunk sailor and an air of arrogance in his poise that struck something in her memory of last night.

"Do you need help?"

She asked as she watched him throw on yet another pan on top the lit burner of the stove.

He paused mid movement, those defined broad shoulders of his squaring before he turned to face her.

And boy, did he live up to her expectations, maybe even more.

Cole had nothing on this one, absolutely nothing.

He was easily the most handsome man she's seen yet and the tallest too, standing at a proud six foot four inches.

But his face wasn't the catch for her with it's angry, dark eyes and a nose that looked to have been broken at least once.

No sir, it was that beautifully carved out torso that complimented that drool worthy back.

'Sculpted to perfection' was the phrase that came to mind as she admired him.

His low hanging sweats wasn't helping as it allowed her a teasing peak of a vee line that leads to God knows what and evenly tanned skin.

The man was gorgeous, she'd give him that.

And though she was yet to find out how she'd ended up in the same house as this fine specimen of a man, she knew she was fucked.

"Being ogled is not an act I enjoy."

He deadpanned, his face devoid of any emotions.

She swallowed hard as her face colored in deep embarrassment from being caught in her not so discreet admiration.

"Shouldn't you still be in bed dealing with a hangover or something?"

He asked with the least interest she's received yet, still sounding pissed.

Well, a diamond back rattler, no fun.

"Thanks for your concern but I'm fine and I'd rather be here to stop you from burning us both to death."

She replied him with enough sarcasm to match his level of pissy, asshole attitude.

It was a surprise to her that they'd ended up together because she didn't do arrogant assholes, no matter how handsome they are.

"What's it gonna be though? My help or you're taking another shot at blazing everything in here to ashes."

His face hardened as he looked at her, probably weighing her gut.

He went back to his business without a word to her, moving with the litheness and grace of a wild cat.

It was another minute before he grunted, "just keep out of my way."

She'd expected him to say something of the likes so no surprise there.

It'd have been too good to be true if he had a sweet attitude to match all that handsomeness.

There's always something off with them.

"With an attitude like yours, it's no surprise all you are cooking up this morning is smoke and fire."

She told him without batting a lash or caring that she was the intruder in his kitchen.

She started on the eggs for an omelette just as the pan he'd put on went to smokes, again.

She doubted he's manned a kitchen alone before, she doubted he's manned the kitchen at all before for more than a coffee.

His nails looked manicured and buffed to perfection and nothing like the nails of someone who busied their hands cutting veggies all day or making complex dishes.

She took over his kitchen seamlessly, making edible eggs, toast and bacon using the ingredients he'd brought out and a few more from the fridge.

The fridge was almost empty, like no one's bothered to stock it in a while but she made do with what he had.

It was oddly therapeutic making breakfast that she almost forgot about the brooding man in the room with her.

Well, Almost.