Chapter 5 _ Morning Feelings

Patrick woke up the following morning with a pounding headache. He sat up in bed and looked around, trying to recall the steamy, foolish dream from the previous night.

"Fụck!" he cursed.

"What happened here?" he muttered. Just then, a knock sounded at his room door, pulling him from his reverie. As he stared at the door, it swung open, and Jeff Hudson stepped inside.

"Good morning, boss," Jeff greeted Patrick. He stared at his boss in surprise, seeing the young man still sitting on the bed, clutching his head with his right palm to support his aching skull.

Patrick started to slide out of bed but realized he was stark nàked. Jeff quickly looked away, even though he was older than Patrick, he was his boss nonetheless.

"Get out!" Patrick commanded.

"Yes, boss!" Jeff responded swiftly. He exited the room, wondering what had gone wrong with his boss.

Jeff stepped out of the room to take a company call from private clients inquiring why the young Anderson had missed their meeting the previous night.

Meanwhile, Patrick slid out of bed, trying to piece together the dream from last night. He remembered a beautiful fair-skinned woman in his arms; they were making love, but he couldn't recall her face. "But her eyes..." Patrick said with a frown. He glanced back at his bed and pulled away the spread, spotting the red stain.

"Oh my! What happened here?" Patrick exclaimed.

Jeff, who had been lingering just outside the door after excusing himself, darted back in, ending the call. He stared at his boss in shock, seeing him fully naked and the red stain on the bed.

Jeff looked confused as he stared at Patrick.

"Get out and give me some privacy," Patrick snapped.

"I'm sorry, boss—I heard you scream," Jeff swallowed, then quickly exited the room, not understanding his unpredictable boss.

Since Patrick had graduated and taken over as CEO, managing his father's secret businesses and public affairs, he had become bitter. Jeff wondered why the young billionaire felt that way when his parents had left him a fortune.

Jeff shook his head as he left his boss's sitting room. He walked to the elevator and rode down to the ground floor, then exited the building and headed to the garage to wait. It was 8 a.m. on a bright Wednesday morning.

"Wasn't it a dream?" Patrick asked himself. He flung the bedspread aside, irritated by the dried, deep red stain on the white sheets.

Patrick headed to his large, exquisite bathroom to shower, figuring he must have injured himself and bled the previous night.

He turned on the shower and bathed quickly, noticing he was already late. As the boss, he wasn't worried—he owned the mega Anderson Hotel and Suites, along with fashion lines and blog magazines. Patrick also controlled his father's oil business and sponsored several personal ventures.

He stepped out of the bathroom and returned to his room. He glanced at the bedspread he had thrown on the tiled floor and avoided it, trying not to dwell on the red stain's implications.

Patrick walked to his wardrobe and pulled out a blue suit with a white dress shirt. He dressed quickly, starting with his black shorts and undershirt, then slipping on the trousers. Just then, a subtle knock came at his chamber door.

Patrick knew it was his mother's maids, arriving to clean his room, since he had woken up late—past his usual 7 a.m.

Patrick approached the large wall mirror hanging brightly on his right and stared at his handsome reflection. Suddenly, an image flashed in his mind, and his heart raced.

"What was that?" Patrick asked himself, shaking his head. He remembered someone bumping into his bedroom the previous night when he had been nàked and staring at the mirror. His eyes narrowed at the memory. He strode to the door and flung it open angrily, expecting to confront the intruder—still convinced everything from last night had been a dream.

Patrick opened the door wider in a rage and saw two slim, dark-skinned maids in pink gowns standing there. His anger boiled over.

"What do you want? Can't you wait until I leave before barging into my room? Get out!" Patrick slammed the door hard and walked back to his reading table, where he spotted the covered tray of food. His brows furrowed.

"Obviously, it wasn't a dream," Patrick murmured. He frowned and placed his hands on his hips, trying to remember who had brought the meal the previous night.

"That new maid. My God!" Patrick exclaimed, walking back to the bedspread. He had thrown it to the floor, so he picked it up, and sniffed it, then touched the red stains.

His fist clenched as he realized it was no dream.

Patrick tossed the bedspread onto the bed and went to his study table, uncovering the plate of food.

"She brought it last night, and she dared to peep at me—but how?"

Patrick shook his head in denial, grabbed his briefcase, and draped his blue suit over his arm as he walked out of his chamber.

He glanced at the two maids waiting for him to finish; clearly, it wasn't either of them—they had flat chests.

Patrick looked away and headed toward the elevator, descending to the first floor. His mother was already seated in the dining room, smiling at him as someone sat across from her.

Patrick could hear them talking. He set his briefcase on a nearby couch and slipped on his suit jacket to look sharp for work. As he grabbed the briefcase again and looked up, he saw Willow smiling at him—she was the one sitting with his mother.

"He's here already, ma," Willow said, winking at him.

Patrick's eyes narrowed at Willow. He clicked his black shoes against the tiled floor and walked slowly to join his mother at the dining table.

"Good morning, Mother," Patrick greeted, approaching her and giving her a warm hug.

His mother pulled away and smiled. "Son, your baby is here, and I'm so happy to see her."

She beamed at him, but he kept an expressionless face, trying to figure out why Willow had suddenly appeared in their family home.

Patrick knew his mother was aware how much he loved Willow, and he had never told her about their breakup.

"Son, what's wrong? Didn't you eat your dinner last night?" She asked.

Patrick's eyes darkened at his mother's question. Just then, he saw the familiar-looking maid step out from the kitchen, holding another tray. She looked like sunshine in her pink uniform—a simple dress with a white apron tied around her front.

Loveth had been in the kitchen preparing her madam's tea with the head maid named Aria Jameson. Aria had worked in the Anderson home for ten years and was now twenty-eight.

Loveth prepared the tea and carried it out to serve her madam the herbal blend in a teacup. She hadn't expected her madam's son to be out and standing beside his mother in the long dining room.

Her grip on the tray tightened—it was the last of the medicinal tea, and she didn't want to drop it.

Loveth walked slowly to the dining table, feeling all eyes on her.

Willow stared at Patrick and noticed him staring at the maid. She was shocked to see such a beautiful young woman in the mansion.

The maid approached the table and greeted them. "Good morning, ma. Good morning." She blushed nervously.

Willow shifted her gaze away to stare at Patrick's face.

Patrick still wore an expressionless face, and Willow knew he was angry with her. She hadn't anticipated Tony recording her escapades with him and sending it to Patrick.

Willow had wanted to sleep with Tony after he sent her a photo of his erection on WhátsApp. But she still loved Patrick very much.

Willow hadn't realized her secret affair and her unexplained trip would leak like that. She knew Patrick loved her deeply, but Tony had made it seem like she had deliberately dumped Patrick to choose him instead.