Chapter 193 A Crazy Idea
Patricia's breath seized, unbelievingly looking at Hunter, who had pinned her down.
"Hunter, what's wrong with you?"
Hunter's eyes blazed red, like those of a famished wolf, as he fixated on Patricia beneath him. Deep inside, a flame seemed to ignite, growing more intense by the moment. It felt as though he wanted to devour her whole, claim her completely for himself.
At that moment, a voice within him screamed relentlessly. Possess her, possess her fiercely. Make her your woman. Then she'll forever be yours.
Driven by this voice, Hunter's rationality began to fade, and he slowly closed in on Patricia.
Patricia, thinking he was delirious from his fever, didn't scream in alarm. Instead, she asked with concern, "Hunter, what's happening to you? Are you feeling unwell again?"
Looking into her trusting eyes, unguarded and genuine, a wave of guilt surged within Hunter. The burning jealousy within him deflated like a balloon, vanishing without a trace.
Peering earnestly into her eyes, he asked, "Aren't you afraid of what I might do to you?"
Patricia offered a gentle smile. "I know you wouldn't hurt me!"
Her words shattered the demons that had been rampaging in Hunter's heart. He turned over, collapsing weakly to one side.
"I'm sorry, it's a habit!"
Patricia didn't quite understand. Sitting up, she looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean?"
With pained eyes shut, Hunter pressed his palms against his forehead and said in a heavy voice, "Ever since I returned to the Miller family in Country M, I had to survive. I never allowed myself to sleep deeply; the slightest noise, and I'd wake up. Just now, I heard the door and thought it was Davis!"
In an instant, Patricia understood. She reached out, removed his arms from his forehead, and held his hands tightly, transmitting the warmth of her palm to him.
"It's all over now, you're safe!" Her palm was as soft as her heart.
Hunter suddenly felt a heat around his eyes. His rough fingertips caressed her palm over and over, as if by doing so he could soothe his innermost fears. Seeing that he didn't speak, Patricia continued to talk.
"You should try to move on, you can't keep yourself trapped in the past. You won't be happy that way. I wish for your happiness."
Something exploded in Hunter's chest, a sour sensation accompanied by a pinch of pain, making him want to cry. After a long moment, he managed to steady his emotions and asked hoarsely, "Why were you gone so long? I thought you weren't coming back; I was just about to call you."
His words were half-truth, half-false. But Patricia took it seriously, her face filled with apology. "I'm sorry, I was held up by some things!" she responded.
Then quickly changed the subject, "Are you hungry? I bought you some porridge. Eat breakfast first, then take your medicine. It's bad for your stomach to take medicine on an empty stomach."
Hunter looked at her, blinked away the moisture in his eyes, and asked softly, "You bought breakfast for me?"
Patricia answered matter-of-factly, "Of course, you are sick. This is exactly when you need to replenish your nutrients and energy. Even though you may not have an appetite, you still need to eat your meals on time. Come on, go wash up quickly."
Amidst a mix of feelings, Hunter, urged by Patricia, climbed out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. By the time he finished washing up, Patricia had already laid breakfast on the dining table, and she, with her sleeves rolled up, was bustling in the kitchen.
Hearing his approach, she turned and flashed him a smile, "Just a moment, it'll be ready soon."
The presidential suite was equipped with a small kitchen complete with all the utensils one might need, they even thoughtfully provided an apron.
Patricia donned a white apron with blue checks, her long hair casually coiled atop her head in a loose bun, adding a touch of homely warmth. The oil in the pan heated and bubbled as Patricia expertly poured in the chopped vegetables.
Hunter's tall frame leaned against the door frame, and for a moment, he stood transfixed. A terrifying thought even popped into his head: how wonderful it would be if this scene could be frozen in time forever.
Patricia embodied everything he yearned for in a partner. Care, warmth, kinship, love, consideration, comfort.
Unaware of Hunter's gaze, Patricia finished cooking and turned off the stove. As she plated the dishes and prepared to bring them to the dining table, she suddenly noticed Hunter leaning on the door frame and smiled.
"Why don't you sit at the table? You're ill; you shouldn't be inhaling the smell of cooking oil."
Hunter dismissed the concern casually, "I'm not that frail."
Patricia passed by him with the dishes in hand and set them on the table, "Let's eat! I didn't expect the hotel to be so thoughtful, stocking the fridge. Since you're sick, you can't eat anything too rich, so I just made a couple of light dishes for you. Once you're feeling a bit better, I'll cook some of my specialties for you."
At her words, Hunter took a seat at the table and pulled Patricia down beside him, "You should eat with me. When I was in the States, I always ate alone. It was so lonely."
Hearing this, Patricia couldn't possibly refuse and duly sat down, "There's only enough porridge for one, so I'll just join you for some vegetables."
"Great!" Hunter agreed readily, without making a fuss.
Patricia modestly served a forkful of stir-fried vegetables into Hunter's bowl, "I'm not a professional chef, and my cooking isn't the best. Please, just make do."
After that, as if remembering something, she put on a stern face and warned, "And no saying you don't want to eat it, even if it doesn't taste good, you still have to compliment me."
Amused by her humorous demand, Hunter obediently took a bite, playing along. He didn't have high expectations, but to his astonishment, as the greens hit his palate, the sweet freshness slowly spread in his mouth.
He was stunned, his pupils dilating in disbelief, and he exclaimed in surprise, "Your cooking is really good. I've never had vegetables that tasted this good before." He said, speaking from the heart.
It wasn't the first time Patricia had been complimented; but she was still brimming with pride: "If you like it, eat more!"
"Mm!" Hunter nodded and heeded Patricia's words, finishing off the main dish, and two plates of sides.
For some reason, despite his lack of appetite, he continued to feel ravenous. After eating, he still wasn't entirely satisfied; he wanted more. Seeing his unsatiated look, Patricia laughed at him.
"It takes twenty minutes for the stomach to signal the brain that you're full. Don't overeat, or you'll feel stuffed once the message gets through."
After speaking, she fetched some cold medicine and personally poured him a glass of water. "Alright, take the medicine. The sooner you take it, the sooner you'll feel better."
Hunter obediently took the medicine from her, as she took out a nasal strip, from her bag. "Your nose is badly congested, and it's going to make sleeping difficult. This is a nasal strip, specifically for relieving nasal blockage."
Hunter struggled with the nasal strip for a long time, unable to apply it properly. Patricia, unable to watch any longer, snatched the strip from his hands and applied it herself. Her fingers gently brushing, his sensitive skin.
A faint, pleasant scent invaded his nostrils; it was lovely and comforting. The air was filled with a questioning tension, Hunter finding himself, in a moment, that seemed to stop time.
For a moment, Hunter is dazed, his hands unintentionally clenching, his heart racing as if to leap out of his chest.
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