The Unfilial Boss Woman

Patrick Anderson, a 27-year-old dark-skinned man, stood up from his executive office seat as he was through for the day’s work.

At 8 p.m. sharp, his personal assistant, Jeff Hudson, knocked and stepped into his office, 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 and did not respond. He stepped out from his office seat, picked up his black coat hanging on his office seat, and wore it to prevent the cold weather from hitting his cool dark skin and freezing him to death. He adjusted his necktie properly and snatched his briefcase from his office desk.

With one final glance, Patrick walked out of his office in his luxurious hotel and headed home, leaving Jeff Hudson speechless.

Patrick owned a vast range of secret businesses in the state, and his mind carried many thoughts, ranging from his parents disturbing him about bringing home a wife to the list of competitors who wanted to take him down and push him out of the business world.

Patrick kept several identities hidden, and no one knew who the real Patrick Anderson was, because he kept his business strategies coded.

Furthermore, Patrick breathed out a cold breath as he entered the elevator on the 8th floor. It immediately 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 waiting to take him home.

Patrick looked back and saw Jeff rushing to join him in the Prado Jeep. He did not wait. He entered and sat in the back seat while Jeff slid into the front driving seat. His bodyguards shut the back door.

Jeff started the Jeep engine and drove Patrick home to the Anderson residence, not wanting to anger him.

Jeff arrived, drove into the mansion premises, and parked. Patrick stepped down and walked straight toward the mansion frontage.

Patrick was angry, and his blood boiled hot as he clicked his black shoes against the cemented ground and approached their mighty four-storey mansion.

Patrick entered the living room, and his new maid, Loveth Logan, greeted him.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome home.”

Patrick paused and stared at Loveth irritably. He did not respond. Instead, he walked straight to the milk-coloured couch in the living room, dropped his briefcase on it, took off his black coat, and hung it over his shoulder. Then Patrick picked up his briefcase again and walked straight toward the elevator, wanting to go up to his private room.

Just then, Patrick’s mother, Mrs. Eleanor Anderson, a 70-year-old woman, stepped out from her room below as she suffered kneecap pain. She stared at Loveth, who was still mopping the tiled floor irritably. Then she frowned when she saw Patrick trying to enter the elevator as the door dinged open.

“Son...” Her voice trailed off as she called him back.

Patrick paused and stared at his mother angrily, already knowing there was nothing else that she and his promiscuous father expected of him other than giving them an heir.

Patrick had four older sisters, and they were all married. His aged mother birthed him last, 10 years after the birth of his immediate elder sister.

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

“Good evening, mother.” Patrick’s greeting rolled from his lips like a whisper, and his mother smiled and replied, “Welcome, son. How was your day in the office?”

“Fine, mother.” Patrick sat with his mother on the executive couch, and she asked him, “Son, when will you finally marry? You know your father and I aren't getting any younger, or don’t you want us to see the next heir of Anderson Cooperation?”

Patrick swallowed, and his forehead grew sweaty at his mother’s question.

“Son...” Mrs. Eleanor called his attention again, and he replied, “Mom, don’t worry about your death yet, okay? I will think about a bride soon, probably this week or next.”

“Okay, my son.” Mrs. Eleanor smiled at Patrick, and he stood up to leave. But she asked him again.

“Son, how about your girlfriend, Willow Albert? Why not make an arrangement to marry her at once, or what’s the matter, son?”

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

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

Likewise, Patrick loosened his necktie from his neck, rolled it in his palms, and shifted his gaze back to his mother.

“Mom, Willow travelled out without informing me. And like that’s not enough, she has refused to give me a proper explanation for leaving me and our relationship.” Patrick forged that story, since of course he could not tell his mother the truth about why he broke up with Willow. The cheap slut had been horny 24 hours a day 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.”

Patrick stiffened and stared back at his mother in disbelief.

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

“Okay, my son.” Mrs. Eleanor smiled at Patrick, and he turned to leave and return upstairs to his private 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 had now finished mopping the tiled floor. She lowered her head respectfully to him as she felt his cold, piercing gaze on her.

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

“Come, Loveth,” Mrs. Eleanor said, stopping her speech and signaling for her to come.

“Loveth, meet my son, Master Patrick Anderson, sole heir to Anderson Cooperation.”

Loveth walked forward into Patrick’s view and bowed her head again.

“It is an honor to meet you, sir,” Loveth spoke.

But Patrick stood speechless as he sank into deep thought.

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

Her eyes shone black like a pussycat. Her nose was sharply pointed, her lips naturally pink without lip gloss, and her long natural blonde hair was packed into a ponytail.

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

Patrick took his time assessing Loveth's beauty until his mother’s words snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Son, I see you like Loveth. She’s also a very good cook, and I cannot help but feel younger and love her more.”

“Hm...” Patrick narrowed his eyes at Loveth and 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 waiting for his mother’s response, Patrick turned and immediately walked away from them. He walked back to the elevator, entered it, and went up to the fourth floor.

“Fụck!” 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, and without warning, the two maids swiftly ran out and left the fourth-floor sitting room.

Patrick used the fourth floor all alone to himself, while 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 onto the nearest couch, and dropped his briefcase, too. Then he walked to the bar in his sitting room and took out an alcoholic wine.

However, Patrick was angry, and nothing irritated him more than the thought of ending up marrying a loose woman.

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

He staggered, feeling the effect of the wine, and sat back on the black stool near the bar top. Then he opened another wine bottle.

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