The Unfilial Boss Woman

Patrick stood up from his executive office seat as he was through with the day's work. At 8 p.m. sharp, his personal assistant, Jeff Hudson, knocked and stepped into his executive office, which was painted ash-grey, to see him.

"Good evening, boss. Are you leaving for home now?" Jeff asked.

Patrick, dressed in a red shirt and black trousers, stared at Jeff like a piece of trash. He didn't respond as he stepped out from his office seat, picked up his black coat hanging on it, and wore it to prevent the cold weather from hitting his cool, dark skin and freezing him to death.

Patrick adjusted his necktie properly, snatched his briefcase from his office desk, and walked out.

In a single final glance, Patrick strode out of his executive office in his luxurious hotel, going home and leaving Jeff Hudson speechless.

Patrick owned a vast range of secret businesses he conducted in the state. His mind was preoccupied with many thoughts, ranging from his parents, who had been disturbing him, to bringing home a wife, down to the list of competitors who wanted to take him down and away from the business world.

Patrick had kept a series of multiple identities hidden, and no one knew who the real Patrick Anderson was, as he kept his business strategies coded.

Meanwhile, Patrick breathed out a cold breath as he entered the elevator on the 8th floor, which took him down to the last floor of his 10-storey, multimillion-dollar hotel in the state. His bodyguards stood aside, guarding him as he stepped out and walked toward the black Prado jeep made available to take him home.

Patrick stared back as Jeff rushed to join him in his Prado Jeep. He didn't wait; he entered and sat in the back seat of his Jeep while Jeff approached and slid into the front driving seat. His bodyguards shut the back door closed.

Jeff ignited the Jeep engine and drove out, driving Patrick home to the Andersons' residence, not wanting to anger him.

Jeff arrived, drove into the mansion premises, and parked.

Patrick stepped down and walked straight toward their mansion frontage.

Patrick was angered, and his blood constantly boiled hot as he clicked his black shoes on the cemented ground and approached their mighty 4-storey mansion.

When Patrick entered the living room, his new maid, Loveth Logan, greeted him: "Good evening, sir. Welcome home."

Patrick paused and stared at Loveth irritably. He didn't respond as he walked straight toward the milk-coloured couch in the living room. He dropped his briefcase on it, took off his black coat, and hung it on his shoulder.

Patrick picked up his briefcase and walked straight toward the elevator, wanting to go up to his exclusive room.

Just then, Mrs. Eleanor Anderson, a 70-year-old woman, stepped out of her room below as she suffered kneecap pain.

She stared at Loveth, who was still mopping the tiled floor irritably. She frowned, seeing Patrick, who wanted to enter the elevator as the door dinged open.

"My son..." Her voice trailed as she called him back.

Patrick paused and stared at his mother. Already knowing there was nothing else she and his father expected of him other than giving them a heir.

Patrick had four older sisters, all married, as his aged mother birthed him lastly after 10 years of his immediate elder sister's birth.

However, Patrick clutched his briefcase tighter as he frowned and walked back to meet his mother. She smiled at him as he approached her and gave her a warm hug.

"Good evening, Mother." Patrick's greeting rolled out from his lips like a whisper.

His mother smiled and replied, "Welcome, son. How was your day today in the office?"

"Fine, Mother." Patrick sat with his mother on the executive couch.

She asked him, "Son, when will you marry? You know your father and I aren't getting any younger, or don't you want us to see the next heir of the Anderson corporation?"

Patrick gulped as he felt his forehead sweaty at his mother's question.

"My son..." Mrs. Eleanor called to Patrick's attention again, and he replied, "Mom, you don't worry about your death yet, okay? I will think about a bride soon, probably this week or next."

"Alright, my son." Mrs. Eleanor smiled at Patrick, and he stood up to leave, but she asked him, "Son, how about your fiancée, Willow Albert? Why not make an arrangement to go marry her at once, or what's the matter, my son?"

Patrick breathed out as he felt hot at her question again. He stared away and met eyes with their new maid, Loveth. She smiled at him and blushed as she continued mopping the tiled floor happily.

Patrick's dark grey eyes scanned Loveth's waist in her pink uniform. She looked so beautiful, making him wonder whom had purposely employed her to work in their mansion.

Patrick loosened his necktie away from his neck as he rolled it out in his palms and shifted his gaze back to his mother.

"Mom, Willow travelled out without informing me about it. And like that's not enough; she has refused to give me a proper explanation of leaving me and our relationship." Patrick lied, as of course he couldn't tell his mother the truth related to why he broke up with Willow—the cheap slut who was 24 hours horny and fell for any available rod that wanted to thrust into her secret cave.

"But son, I spoke to Willow yesterday, and she told me you both are fine and still together."

"What?" Patrick stiffened and stared back at his mother unbelievably.

Forcing a fake smile and menacing laughter, Patrick replied, "I'm tired, Mom. I will get back to you, and probably next week, I will look for a bride, since that's what you want."

"Alright, my son." Mrs. Eleanor smiled at Patrick, and he turned to leave and return back up to his room on the fourth floor, but her voice stopped him again.

"Son, have you met Loveth Logan? She's the new maid from West Wood, and her mother is one of the charitable women contributing to building the economy."

Patrick paused and stared back at Loveth, who was now through mopping the tiled floor. She bowed her head, lowered and respectful, to him as she felt his cold, piercing gaze on her.

"How do you see Loveth? Your eldest sister, Isabel Owen, recommended her services to us, and she's like a daughter to me and helps me a lot, as I am already old and cannot work much."

"Come, Loveth." Mrs. Eleanor stopped talking and stared at Loveth as she signalled to her to come.

"Loveth, meet my only son, Master Patrick Anderson, sole heir to the Anderson Corporation."

Loveth walked forward to Patrick's view and bowed her head lowered to him again.

"It is an honor to meet you, sir," she spoke, but Patrick stood speechless as he sank into deep thinking.

*Is this some sort of temptation or set up by my mother?*

Her eyes are so shining black, like a pụssy cat. Her nose is pointed, her lips naturally pink without lip gloss, and her long natural blonde hair packed into a ponytail.

Her skin looked so flawless, like milk and honey mixed together.

Patrick saw; he took time assessing Loveth's beauty until his mother's words finally snapped him out from his assessment.

"My son, I see you like Loveth. She's also a good cook, and I cannot help but feel younger and love her the more."

"Hmm..." Patrick's eyes finally narrowed at Loveth. He replied to his mother, "Fine, Mother. Good to see she's taking good care of you. I have to go upstairs now, as I have some important online business meeting to catch up with by 10 p.m., and I need to be ready for it."

Without his mother's response, Patrick turned and walked away from them. Walking back to the elevator, he entered and went up to the fourth floor.

"Damn it!" Patrick cursed as he stepped out of the elevator and into his sitting room on the fourth floor. The two maids there quickly greeted him: "Good evening, boss. Welcome home."

"Shut up, and get out!" Patrick thundered. Without warning, the two maids hastily ran out and left the fourth-floor sitting room.

Patrick used the fourth floor alone, and the third and second floors were used by his elder sisters long before they got married or whenever they were around.

Patrick dropped his black coat and necktie to the nearest couch as he kept his briefcase. He walked up to his bar in his sitting room to take out an alcoholic wine.

Meanwhile, Patrick was enraged, and there was nothing else that irritated him more than the thought of him ending up marrying a loose woman.

Patrick took out the alcoholic wine bottle, opened it in his hand, and chugged down the wine content directly from the bottle's mouth, finishing it in a go.

Patrick staggered, feeling the wine effect on him. He sat back on the black stool closer to the bar top and popped open another wine bottle.

"I hate you, Willow!" Patrick cursed. Just then, he heard his sitting room door slide open.