CHAPTER 2

Patrick turned and stared at the entrance door as it swung open, fixing his gaze on the pretty young maid who stepped inside.

He felt sluggish, almost weightless, as he stared at her pretty, youthful face.

He felt irresistibly drawn to approach her and seize her as she entered his sitting room. Her cute, round, chubby face met his cold gaze while she carried a tray of his evening meal in her hands.

Patrick assumed his mother had sent Loveth to deliver his dinner.

He gripped the third bottle of alcoholic wine tighter as he gulped from it, then slowly pulled the bottle away from his sinful lips.

Loveth stopped in front of Patrick and flashed him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

"Sorry to bother you, sir, but Mother said I should deliver this meal to you. Where can I set it?" she asked him.

Patrick set the wine bottle on the bar top and rose sluggishly to face her. Her black, shining eyes immediately darted from him to the tray in her hands.

Patrick staggered toward Loveth and sniffed her like a dog. She froze at his sudden behavior.

Loveth had never seen a handsome man like Patrick before, and she had initially refused when her mother suggested moving into the Andersons' home to serve the elderly Mrs. Eleanor Anderson.

Only after much pleading from her mother and her two younger sisters, Janet and Juliet, did she finally accept and move into the mansion.

Seeing the handsome Black man—dressed in a red, expensive, shiny shirt and plain black trousers—approach her, she felt her blood pressure rise, and her grip on the tray tightened when he sniffed her like a dog.

"Do I smell bad?" Loveth wondered, her cute smile fading.

Patrick ignored Loveth and sauntered into his room, leaving her standing speechless and unsure of what to do.

Mrs. Eleanor had told Loveth that her only son had a weak stomach from birth and that she should ensure he ate well, since she had given birth to him at a much older age.

Loveth tightened her grip on the tray, which held a plate of jollof rice, fried turkey legs, and some freshly cooked pepper soup garnished with scented leaves, as she hesitated over where to set it.

She stood there for a while, not seeing the young master of the house emerge from the door he had entered—since she did not even know which room he occupied.

She was not the maid responsible for tidying his rooms, as it was only her second day and second night working there.

She had not seen him the previous day when she started, since he had left early for work.

Loveth exhaled deeply and glanced around the wide, luxurious sitting room.

From the seven-seater purple couches arranged in various spots, to the standing shelves holding books that drew her in—though she could not read well—to the walls of his living room painted white.

Loveth realized the Andersons loved the color white intensely, since every corner of the four-story mansion was painted white, including the exterior.

Sighing, Loveth carried Patrick's dinner to the bar and set it there, unsure of what to do next.

She hesitated, tempted to approach the door he had entered and knock on it, but she shook her head and backed away, heading toward the sitting room's exit door.

Loveth stepped back into the elevator, which immediately carried her to the ground floor.

Stepping out of the elevator, Loveth saw the elderly Mrs. Eleanor heading back to her room on the first floor.

Loveth had learned from the other maids that Mrs. Eleanor's husband was away, traveling for medical treatment.

Mrs. Eleanor smiled at Loveth and waved for her to come closer.

"Come!" she whispered. Loveth sauntered forward to meet her.

"Yes, ma'am," she said.

"Has my son eaten the dinner you sent him? Did he like the meal?" Mrs. Eleanor asked, firing off a series of questions.

Loveth swallowed and stared downward as she shook her head.

"No, Mother. Master did not respond to me and simply left me standing there, retreating into one of the rooms."

"Hmm…" Mrs. Eleanor frowned, and Loveth felt sorry for her as their gazes met.

Mrs. Eleanor said nothing more, knowing her only son was stubborn and would not eat his dinner. She resumed her slow walk to her room, but Loveth—uncomfortable with Mrs. Eleanor's sad expression—rushed up to her.

"Ma'am, should I...?"

Mrs. Eleanor stopped and turned back to Loveth.

"What is it?" she asked gently, trying not to sound harsh.

"Ma, should I go and check on Master again to see if he has eaten his dinner?"

Mrs. Eleanor nodded, and Loveth—ever the cheerful young woman—swiftly darted away and hurried back to the elevator, riding up to Patrick's bedroom on the fourth floor.

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Patrick had just stepped out of his bathroom without even wrapping his white towel around his waist, since he enjoyed emerging nàked when he was alone in his room.

Patrick recalled the appearance of his mother's new maid, Loveth Logan. He shook his head in rejection as he dried off and wiped down his wet, taut body.

Patrick loved to work out in the gym, and his biceps and well-chiseled chest formed a hot, striking physique to behold.

He remembered the videos of his bìtchy girlfriend, Willow Albert, in the arms of his rival, Tony Miles, and his brows furrowed.

Willow had thought Patrick was stupid and lacked sufficient informants, so she had agreed to travel with Tony to New York City for fun and to indulge in wild antics.

Patrick's grip on his towel tightened because Tony knew how much he loved Willow and intended to marry her.

Tony was a 29-year-old man and the CEO of Miles Corporation. He constantly competed with Patrick, copying everything his hotel did, monitoring his private businesses, and even trying to extract personal information about his top sponsors from his mobile app through his fiancee, Willow.

Willow was 24 years old, a hot brunette beauty with beautiful brown skin. She was slim-figured with a simple, sèxy shape and small-sized brẹasts like oranges.

Patrick exhaled in anger, remembering he had a business meeting with private sponsors at 10 p.m. Glancing at the magnificent wall clock in his room, he saw that the time was 9:15 p.m. sharp.

Sighing, Patrick dried his short, brown hair, ruffling it as he pressed the towel against it to absorb the water properly and stop the drips running down his bare, masculine body.

Patrick then walked to the wide, full-view wall mirror on the right side of his white-painted bedroom, where a golden chandelier hung brightly from the ceiling.

Two milk-colored curtains draped the wall, and he stared at his handsome, dark, nude reflection in the mirror, under the chandelier's full, bright white lights. He frowned at what he saw.

Patrick was handsome and hot-blooded, yet Willow had chosen to cheat on him with a "yellow rod" like Tony.

Patrick stared at his member and shook his head in irritation, since many ladies gawked at him in his hotel, but he had chosen Willow over them because she was a beautiful model.

Patrick had thought Willow was a virgin, given the innocent, poor-girl look on her deceitful face. But after sleeping with her and realizing she was no virgin but a wild bìtch in bed, he still loved her craziness and how she overpowered him during sex.

Patrick was no saint, but the nighttime and office romances with Willow had been incredibly fun—especially since he also owned a celebrity cover magazine that photographed and featured past events hosted in his hotel.

As he continued to stare at his handsome, nude reflection in the mirror—the one Willow had dumped for his rival, Tony, who was also huge and taller (since Tony Miles was two years older than him)—Patrick suddenly heard the elevator ding as it opened into his sitting room. He was certain the new maid his mother had introduced had left.

Patrick assumed it was another maid who had come in to retrieve something, and he was sure she would not dare approach his room.

Patrick tossed his white towel onto the blue chair in his room and approached the drawer near his wide wall mirror, pulling out his cream to apply to his toned body.

Futhermore, Patrick was a little drunk, and recalling his hot nights with Willow made his member harden at the thought. He groaned as he squeezed cream into his palms to rub it on.

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However, Loveth stepped into the wide sitting room belonging to the younger housemaster—as the other maids called him—and glanced around.

She did not see him anywhere and knew he would still be in the room he had entered.

Loveth remembered that Mrs. Eleanor had said Patrick had a weak stomach, so she walked to his bar, picked up his tray of food—which was almost cold—and approached his room door.

The room door was not locked, and with the tray held in both hands, Loveth could not knock. Instead, she used her right foot to nudge the door open and stepped inside.