Chapter 192 Finding a Way to Get Rid of the Nuisance Martin
Patricia! Suddenly remembering something, Hunter bolted upright in bed, his eyes searching the room anxiously for Patricia. When he saw her sleeping at the edge of the bed, his gaze softened as if it could drip with tenderness.
Looking at her peaceful sleeping face, Hunter couldn't help but reach out, his fingertips grazing her cheek. Her skin was soft, smooth and tender, irresistibly delicate to the touch.
As he was about to lay his entire palm on her cheek, his nose tickled unexpectedly, and he sneezed uncontrollably. "Achoo..."
The sudden noise startled Patricia from her deep slumber. She thought something must have happened to Hunter and hurriedly scrambled up from the ground.
Without fully grasping the situation, she anxiously blurted out, "Hunter, are you feeling unwell? Do you have a fever again? You haven't caught a cold, have you?"
As she spoke, she went to fetch a thermometer from the medicine box, completely unaware that Hunter had already awakened. It wasn't until she found the thermometer, and was about to take Hunter's temperature, that she realized Hunter was smiling at her, causing her movements to come to an abrupt halt.
"Are you awake?" she asked.
Hunter nodded, about to answer her question, when he suddenly sneezed three times in a row.
Patricia quickly said, "You haven't caught a cold, have you?"
Hunter shook his head, unconcernedly remarking, "It's no big deal, just a cold. I'm young; I can handle it. It'll pass in a few days." His voice was heavy with nasal congestion.
Along with the fever and sneezing, Patricia was almost certain Hunter really had caught a cold.
"Do you feel completely drained? Light-headed or dizzy?" she asked.
Hunter remained indifferent, "Well, I do have a fever! Feeling weak and unsteady is normal, it's not a big deal!"
Patricia gave him a sideways glance, "That's exactly what you told me yesterday, and then you ended up with a fever shortly after! Alright, lie down now, I'll see if there's any cold medicine in the medicine box."
She rummaged through it but found no cold medicine. "You don't have any cold medication here. I'll go to the nearby pharmacy to buy some. Wait for me here!"
She said this and turned to leave, but Hunter grasped her wrist. Patricia looked at him in surprise, "What are you doing?"
His illness had left him weak, his face pale as paper and his lips dry and peeling. Despite his haggard appearance, his innate nobility couldn't be concealed.
"I'm really fine, you don't need to go out and buy medicine. Please don't go, stay with me..." he implored.
Patricia firmly refused, "No, a cold needs to be treated with medicine. Besides, you're still injured. What if it gets worse? I'm a doctor, you need to listen to me."
Her concern warmed Hunter's heart. This feeling of being looked after, being cared for, was truly wonderful. Ever since his mother and brother fell ill, no one had shown him such concern.
Although this illness was part of a trick on his part, it had yielded an unexpectedly positive outcome.
"Alright! I’ll wait for you. Make it quick," he said.
"Good boy," Patricia said with satisfaction, nodding her head. She removed his hand from her wrist and turned to leave the room.
There had been no movement outside the door all night, so Patricia thought Martin must have left. But as soon as she stepped out, she saw him standing there with panda eyes, a look of grievance on his face, as if she had wronged him in some way.
Seeing him like this, Patricia couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"And you're laughing," he said, his expression even more woeful.
Patricia walked over and whispered, "You didn't sit here all night, did you?"
The answer was obvious, yet she couldn't help but ask. "Of course, I did. If he tried anything untoward with you, you as a delicate woman, would stand no chance against him. I have to protect my woman."
Martin spoke with a sense of righteousness, as if he and Patricia had already established their relationship. After all, he had once succeeded with her, bolstered by the courage from alcohol.
Imagine if Hunter exploited his sickness to take advantage of Patricia, Martin couldn't bear the thought of being cuckolded. He absolutely couldn't let it happen.
The words 'my woman' pleased Patricia, and her voice softened without her noticing, showing more tolerance towards Martin, "Alright, it's dawn now; nothing happened. You go back and get some rest."
Martin quickly spotted a loophole, "Aren't you coming back with me?"
Patricia shook her head, "Hunter's got a cold; I need to buy him some medicine."
At this, Martin's face turned a shade of steel blue, "He's sick again? When will he ever stop?"
Patricia fell silent. "Stop being sarcastic. It's not like one gets to choose whether they fall ill. Do you think he wants to be sick?"
Martin pouted, not arguing aloud but muttering under his breath, "Who knows? Maybe he's just feigning illness for your sympathy."
Although he spoke quietly, Patricia, with her keen hearing, caught every word and sighed in resignation. She hadn't thought Martin to be so childish before, but now he was behaving increasingly like a child.
To placate him, Patricia softened her tone and smiled, "Alright, have you had breakfast? Let's go downstairs and eat together."
At her words, Martin's eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously, "Yes let’s do that, I didn't eat a thing after you left last night. I'm starving. Finally, you care about me."
Without hesitation, Patricia picked up the down jacket off the sofa, put it on, and they left together. Once they had left, the tightly closed door slowly opened, revealing Hunter's grim face and eyes burning with jealousy.
Martin was truly an eyesore! He must find a way to remove this nuisance.
Having finally pulled Patricia away from Hunter, Martin wasn’t prepared to let go easily. Once in the elevator, he firmly held her hand. Patricia did not resist, allowing him to take her hand.
After leaving the hotel, Patricia asked, "What do you want to eat?"
With no particular preference, eager only to be with Patricia, Martin said, "Anything's fine, as long as it fills me up."
Unfamiliar with the local breakfast options, Patricia saw a breakfast cafe across the street, and led him there, ordering him a hot Americano and an omelet.
Martin frowned at the sight of the omelet. "What's wrong? Don't like it?"
Martin said with distaste, "It's too greasy, why is there so much oil?"
"You are so picky!" Patricia rolled her eyes in disbelief, added a bit of the restaurant’s signature chili to his dish, and took a proactive taste. Her eyes lit up instantly, "It tastes great; try it quickly."
"How good can the taste of a street stall be?" Martin was obviously skeptical, sampling a small piece.
It seemed that, after Martin took his first bite found the flavors to his liking. Pausing for a moment, he then lowered his head and took another bite, this time a bit more than the first.
After the second bite, he must have found it decent because he put a whole piece on his fork into his mouth and started eating intently.
Patricia realized that Martin really was hungry—he ended up eating everything she had bought, looking as if he still hadn’t had his fill.
"How about it? The taste is comparable to a five-star chef, isn't it?" She teased on purpose.
Martin nodded, generously giving his praise, "The flavor is indeed good! With such culinary skills, why settle for this small eatery?"
Patricia gave him a look, "Every trade produces its own leaders, they are just experts in this area. To evolve comprehensively to the level of a five-star chef is a bit of a stretch. You're just too accustomed to five-star food; sometimes it's only when you have something more down-to-earth that you find it particularly tasty."
"Oh!" Martin nodded, signaling his understanding.
After having breakfast, Patricia bought a serving of white rice porridge for Hunter and then went to the pharmacy next to the hotel to buy him cold medicine.
"Alright, you've had breakfast; you should head back now."
Martin didn't want to leave and was holding onto Patricia, unwilling to let go. "I'll go up with you."
This time Patricia did not compromise, commanding firmly, "No, if you go up there again, Hunter will have too much to think about! I'll return as soon as he's a bit better."
"I don't care what he thinks!" Hunter declared nonchalantly. Patricia clenched her molars and glared at her viciously.
Under her sharp gaze, Martin shrank his neck, guiltily touched his nose, and said with little conviction, "Then I'll go back. Come back soon, or I'll come looking for you."
"Alright, alright, a big man shouldn't dilly-dally!" Afraid that he would change his mind, Patricia decided to shove him into the car quickly, and watched the car drive away before she returned to the hotel.
The presidential suite was silent enough to hear a pin drop. Patricia thought Hunter had fallen asleep again. She placed the porridge on the coffee table and tiptoed into the room. Before she could get a clear look, the world spun around her.
The next moment, she found herself being pressed down on the bed by Hunter.
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