I woke up sweaty and with a throbbing headache. I grunted when I felt like a group of carpenters were pounding my skull. I carried my limbs to the washroom, ignoring that awful feeling. I sprayed my face with cold water to awaken my system completely.

I stared at the mirror. Blue eyes with red spots sprinkled around the irises, puffy, and I looked like a ghost. Chap lips, dry face and pale face, and I felt like I'm high.

I felt like crap!

I let out a harsh sigh then brushed my teeth.

I didn't bother getting dressed. With only my undergarments, I sauntered out of my door to the kitchen. Coffee should help ease the hangover.

It's only Brittany that's here, and I've been with here in a room with just undergarments. In a room full of models, we've seen each other naked.

I confidently strode towards the living room, but I didn't find her in there, then I heard someone in the kitchen.

I smiled. Brittany doesn't cook unless it's coffee, but I hear the clanking of pan and utensils.

When I entered the kitchen, I stood frozen.

I felt like my jaw just hit the floor as I gawked at the man's back.

Alexander was only wearing a boxer short that was snug, giving a good view of his behind, and could give any model a run for their money.

His curly copper hair disheveled, his shirt a little crumpled and it didn't hide what's underneath, ripped muscles.

His ass could break a glass, round and hard... —swallowing— and better than Matt Bomer's ass.

His triceps flexing as he moved. I've seen Nikolai, Raffy, or my other brother's triceps, but I never found it sexy.

Why does everything that's Alex doing be sexy?

And cooking? What more could make a man hotter than the kitchen, right?

Then he slowly turned, and my world seemed to stop. His eyes darkened, the intensity of his gaze pinned me in my spot. And then he spoke. His bedroom voice, thick, dark, rich and velvety, and gruff cuts through my heart, causing it to stop beating. My brain froze either, like everything around me just suddenly paused, they all turned into pitch black, leaving him the only one looking vibrant and hot. "Good mor—" his words hang in the air. His mouth open as his dark eyes skimmed me up and down, and I suddenly felt bothered. The intensity of his gaze was like a physical touch, leaving prickling sensation on my skin in its wake.

When his eyes lingered on my chest, like a shot, I snapped out of my daze. My eyes wide as I met his dark ones. I turned on my heel with a start, then sprinted back to my room. My heart beats rapidly, my hangover intensified.

No, No. No! He's not here. I'm just hallucinating!

But he is. He's here, Clara Bell and he saw you in your bra and thong only!

I brushed away the blush that's about to settle on my face.

I remembered he came last night, and only in his boxers.

Why am I so embarrassed? I've been in front of the camera with only these garments? And my photos has been everywhere.

What's the difference?

He's Alexander James Demakis, came a reply from the other part of my brain.

So what?

I quickly changed into something comfortable; jeans short and a white wife beater that has a print design on the chest 'BOSS.'

I stopped mentally battling and waited until my heartbeat is normal, while I composed myself.

When I feel confident again, I sauntered back to the kitchen, and Alex was already sitting on one of the white chairs.

I wore my poker face.

"Morning," he greeted.

I just nod my head at him, then my gaze drifted to the table where two plates filled with omelets, toast bread, and espresso next to the plate. "Sit down, and have some coffee," he said, motioning me the chair next to him with his hand, and he seemed so comfortable, like he owned the place, and I was a guest.

"Why are you here, and in your boxers only?" I scowled, crossing my hands over my chest.

"Can we talk about that later? I can see you have a hangover, and why not? You two drank the whole two bottles of Margarita, then finished off that nine beers!" he pointed out, his tone was flat yet thoughtful.

And I felt awful again for being so ungrateful. He's here, and he took care of me last night, and here I am again, insolent and churlish towards his thoughtful actions.

I heaved a sigh and quietly took the chair across him.

"Thank you," I murmured as I took the steaming mug, then carefully took a sip.

I just then noticed the glass of orange juice. "That's yours," he said causing me to look at him.

Can't he be mean instead of being so tactful?

I have no reason to be rude to him when he's like this, and it's infuriating.

"Thank you," I murmured and continued sipping my coffee, then ate the omelet he prepared.

The first bite became two, then three. It was good. I must be hungry that omelet tasted heavenly. "How did you learn to cook?" I asked, looking up and I caught him staring at me while sipping his coffee.

"Dad," he shrugged.

My eyebrows jutted up. Dad also cooks, only when mom is upset, and he enjoyed wearing that pink apron mom bought when he first cooked her favorite curry.

"So your dad can cook," I said, nodding my head as I popped another piece in my mouth and slowly chewed while gazing at him.

"Yes," he replied, short and bored.

"Does it taste good?" he asked.

I nodded, and for the first time, I gave him a genuine smile. He stared at me like I grew two heads. I ignored him and cut another piece and shove it in my mouth.

"I'm glad you like it. I can cook for you while you go to work, so you don't have to eat out," he chirped. "Homemade food is better," he shrugged his shoulders. I looked up and met his gaze while chewing my food.

Why would I let him?

What would Claire thinks is she finds out Alex is here with me, sleep in my place, and cooked breakfast for me?

I swallowed the food, then grabbed the orange juice and downed half. "Did you ever thought that if Claire finds out that you're here and cooking for me, and in your boxers only, she'll hate me forever!" I spewed out, shaking my head at him in disapproval as I placed down the glass on the table.

Alex smirked. "That's the plan. Breaking that Friend zone," he said in a smug tone as he inclined his head to the side, challenging me.

I scowled.

"She's my bestfriend, and I won't let you ruin our friendship!" I spat, leaning forward and glared at him.

Alex scoffed to my annoyance. "Why do you care about her so much? She doesn't care about anyone but herself," he said, his gaze was intent and determined.

I know Claire was selfish, but every models has gone through an ordeal just to be where they were now, and if you were soft, too kind hearted, people will eat you alive, your sanity. You have to be tough, perhaps selfish to keep going. There's no room for kind acts. In my own opinion, I've seen lots of harsh things, people doing this just to get to the top.

I shook my head. Alex's gaze never left mine. I sat upright then drifted my attention to my food. "Have you ever done this to Claire?" I asked as I cut a piece of the omelet, then slowly looked up.

Alex looked surprised with my question. After a short pause, he shook his head. "No!" his tone was curt and flat.

I fell into silence. I felt suddenly exhausted.

Silence took over as I resumed finishing my quarter left omelet. "Won't you ask me why I broke up with Claire?" he asked after a short silence.

I ate the last piece of the omelet, then push the plate away to the center of the table. I didn't eat the toasted bread. Alex glanced at the bread before turning it back to me. "That's not enough," he said. "You should eat more, you need more than the omelet," he commented, and I shook my head.

He just stared at me, hard and disapproving.

He lifted his mug and took another sip. His gaze never left me over the rim of the mug. "Why?" I asked, my fingers curled around the warm mug.

He leaned his back against the backrest of the high back chair. "Claire is not who she seems to be, Clara Bell—" he paused, "Have you ever wondered how she can afford that expensive penthouse, that million dollars sports car, going to casinos every Fridays? You got more offers than she does, well except recently, because she's Desmond Nava's toy," Alex explained, not an ounce of emotions. I was expecting bitterness in his voice, but he sounded like he was dealing a business negotiation.

Desmond Nava owned the top modeling agency in the world. A sixty years old, fresh flesh hunter. And Claire was one of his—

I shook the thoughts off before I got carried away.

Though I had a strong feeling she wasn't telling me everything, I still feel like I need to give her the benefit of the doubt, but Alex's words are on point. And yet again, her parents are well off, and there's only two of them. Her eldest sister was married off to a wealthy law firm CEO.

"You did," he answered his own question after a brief silence.

I remembered her text last night. "She loves you so much," I said instead.

Alex let out a half-chuckle, then scoffed. "She loves herself, Clara Bell. Don't be fooled by her." He jaws flexed.

"Give her a chance," I blurted out and Alex fell into silence, perhaps considering my words. His gaze was piercing. I felt like I was being scrutinized, deep within my very soul.

"Would you still eat the food that has been in every mouth?"

My head tilt to the side, eyebrow cocked up. Silently sending him the message, "And you?"

He let out a deep sigh, punctuated by a tense silence. He looked down for a moment and took a deep breath.

"You believe all the rumors," he muttered as he met my eyes.

"No," I responded briefly. Without leaving his eyes, I added "They weren't rumors. Claire told me you slept with other women."

He snorted. "I told her I bedded them, cause I wanted her out of my life."

My brow arched up, shaking my head with the intent of not believing him. "You can just tell her it's over?." I probed.

He nodded my head. "Of course I did. Told her that I care for her but not love her, and it's not enough to continue the relationship. A relationship that wasn't in my head when I bed her. Never thought that naive Claire I met was just a facade." His face grew taut. "How many times do you think I broke up with her? Telling her everything I know that could hurt a woman and compelled her to leave me, but it didn't work. Which also proved me that she doesn't really love me as me, she love the fortune, fame and the connections that comes with me." He let out sarcastic chuckle as he shook his head. After a short silence, he met my eyes. There was an intent on those gray orbs. I never seen him so serious as today.

"True!" bobbing his head. "I do have my fair share of woman, but that was before I met Claire." he stressed. "I dated a few while we were together, but I never slept with them. But in Claire's eyes and with the others, I slept with these women." His eyes roamed across my face and back to my eyes. "She really made a good impression on you, Clara." He sighed. "It's true I went out with a lot of women, but it doesn't mean I slept with them," he chuckled bitterly.

"That's what the impression you sent to everyone who saw you?" she scowled.

"Yes. That's what I want Claire to see, so she will eventually accept the truth that it's over between us." he replied angrily, bobbing hi head in approval. Then he shook his head, then let out a soft sigh as he looked down and back up to meet my eyes. "I didn't slept with anyone while I was with her, though I broke up with her too many times, I lost count of it. She never accepted it. Do you know why?" he asked.

I shook her head. Tongue lost as he opened up.

"Because she doesn't love me, contradictory to what she made you believed. She loves the fame and connections my name attach with when people thought we are together."

I shook my head, still in disbelief. I am torn.

I looked away. Avoiding to look into his eyes. For the first time, I witness his soul burning down as he opened up with me. All those emotions I have never seen before, I feel like I just met who truly the Alex is.

"But how did you know that she bedded a lot of man?" I asked, avoiding his confession as I met his eyes.

Alex gave me an incredulous look. "Connections," he simply replied, then he shrugged his shoulders, picking up his mug and downed the rest of it. Placing the mug down with his eyes on me, he added. "One can't hide its stinking shit, someone will eventually smell it," he said figuratively.

"I didn't," I chuckled dryly. I did, but I didn't pay attention to it as I'm too eager to keep my bestfriend.

Alex chuckled, his gaze so tender that I inwardly squirmed. "You have ham slices on your eyes, babe," he grinned.

I frowned.

"Pardon me?" I spat.

He chuckled, a little louder as he sat upright and gave me an amused look. "You are not seeing what everyone else can see," he explained.

I lifted my eyebrow at him. "Are you really dating someone?" Alex asked randomly and my eyebrows darted together.

"Y-yes," I stuttered and he cocked his eyebrow, his lips curled up in amusement.

"You don't sound confident?" he taunted.

"Why are you on your boxers only? You know I'm here, too?" I asked, deflecting his curiosity.

He chuckled as he shook his head. "I was too worried last night, I forgot about it," answered and he doesn't seem to be bothered at all.

Just thinking about those people who saw him last night made me laughed.

"So you're not dating anyone?" he said and my laughter died down instantly.

I thought I had successfully changed the topic.

"I think I'm done," I said, my palms propped on the edge of the table as I pulled myself up and hastily pushed the chair backwards.

"Trying to escape?" Alex teased and I threw him a glare.

"Okay, I won't ask it again. I already know the answer," he grinned, he looked utterly contented. His eyes shimmering with mirth.

I heard him followed me.

I made my way to the living room, and saw my phone on the coffee table. I grabbed it before settling myself on the couch. Alex sat on the couch and turned the TV on.

I remembered Brittany. I unlocked my phone and saw her text.

I read the text with excitement. She's probably on the way to the airport.

Check the news this morning. Alex was on the news. Someone took a photo of him with only his boxer and in front of your building. Damn girl, he's smokin' hot!

.........

Sorry guys it was short.