CHAPTER 11

Vanya's POV

I watched Tara devour the plate of soup placed in front of her. She looked terrible, dark circles under her eyes. Her skin was pale too, lacking it's rosy hue. She had taken off her clothes from the party and ran a cold shower, now dressed in an oversized t shirt of mine. Now her hair hung in damp rattails down her back and shoulders.

"You're such a wonderful chef, Mr Leon," she said, swallowing a mouthful of the chicken soup.

"Just call me Marco," He said, passing her a glass of water. "And slow down, you wouldn't want to choke now."

She nodded. "Thank you. Now I can see where Miss Jacob got her awesome cooking skills from."

"Oh please." I scoffed in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I taught him everything he knows."

Marco smiled, shaking his head. "Don't argue with her now." He said. "Just eat your food."

"I'm never going to drink so much again." Tara groaned. "My head hurts like someone is playing soccer with a metal ball."

"You'll be fine." I said, offering her a sma