,"I don't have a home," Titus Zane murmured again into Nathan Moore's embrace, his words a drunken mumble, yet Nathan Moore could hear a sense of helpless sadness in them.
Without hesitation, one hand wrapping around Titus Zane's waist, the other pulled a wallet from the coat pocket and tossed it on the bar counter, telling the Bartender, "Whatever the amount, just swipe it yourself!"
The Bartender came over, took one look at him, took the wallet, swiped a card on the POS machine, and then placed it back in the wallet.
Pocketing the wallet, Nathan Moore grabbed Titus Zane's handbag, bent down to lift her horizontally, and strode towards the club's exit.
"Where are you taking me?"
Groggily, Titus Zane raised her hand and lightly punched Nathan Moore. Her small fist lightly hitting his chest didn't hurt, but such a restless action almost made her fall to the ground. Fortunately, Nathan Moore, with quick reflexes, caught her in his arms again.
