Unexpected Fiancée
Chapter 24: You Are Not My Type

Chapter 24: You Are Not My Type

Jane had been so engrossed in applying the ointment that she didn't notice Patrick's presence. Hestood there, clad in a white bathrobe, which revealed a portion of his well-built chest. The accidentacollision with Jane left his chin aching, causing him to knit his brows.

Droplets of water dripped from his hair, and his eyebrows and eyelashes glistened with moisture.Jane found herself captivated by his appearance; she couldn't deny that he was very handsome."Have you had your fill of gawking?" Patrick teased with a smug smile, pulling her back to reality."When did you get here? You startled me. Quit sneaking around like a thief and get dressed!"

Jane rubbed her head and turned away, feeling somewhat shy.

Patrick chuckled and fastened his bathrobe, then gently mocked her, "My chin is hurting becauseyou bumped into me. What are you going to do about it?"

Jane had bumped into him, but she hadn't expected him to complain instead of apologizing.

“I... I'm going to take a shower," Jane replied, flustered under his penetrating gaze. She grabbedclean clothes and hurried into the bathroom, muttering to herself, "Why did he come out dressedlike that? Oh, God. Why am I suddenly so sweaty?"

Staring at Jane as she rushed away, Patrick pondered whether he came across as intimidating.Knock! Knock! Knock! Jane was still in the shower when she heard a series of knocks on thebathroom door.

"Who's there?" she called, her heart racing as she rinsed her face.

What could it be? Could it be Patrick? He was the only one in the room. What did he want?Patrick's voice came from the other side, "It's me."

Jane immediately became cautious. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm taking a shower? Goaway!"

"You dropped something,” Patrick said in a low, husky voice.

"What's that?" Jane asked as she turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a short bath towel.She was skeptical; she didn't recall dropping anything. Even if she had, couldn't he wait until shefinished her shower? What was Patrick up to? He usually behaved with decency, but could he be apeeping Tom?

"Check for yourself," Patrick replied with a knowing smile, holding the item in his hand.

Jane checked the pile of clothes she had brought into the bathroom. To her dismay, her cleanunderwear was missing. She must have dropped it outside when she was in a hurry. Was that whatPatrick was holding? She was mortified

Jane ran her hand through her hair anxiously, her face flushing red. After some internal struggle, shetiptoed to the door, opened it slightly, and peeked out. "I accidentally dropped it. Hand it over.”The orange light illuminated her face, making her smooth and tender skin glisten with waterdroplets and turn slightly red. Patrick couldn't help but stare at her in awe.

His lips curled into a broad smile as he handed her the underwear. "Be more careful. Don't drop itagain.”

"Thank you,” Jane mumbled, quickly taking the underwear, her hand briefly brushing against his.The electric touch made her cheeks burn. She hastily shut the door, her heart racing.

Why was she so flustered? It was such an embarrassing situation. Jane regretted agreeing to cometo this household to please her grandfather. It was clear she was asking for trouble. She took a fewdeep breaths to dispel the inexplicable tension in her heart.

After her shower, Jane emerged from the bathroom only to replace Patrick sitting on the sofa. His legswere crossed, and he was absorbed in a financial magazine, his handsome eyes narrowed andfocused.

“I'm going to bed," Jane informed him.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how ambiguous they sounded.

"Is that an invitation?" Patrick asked, his voice dripping with charm.

Jane was taken aback. How had her straightforward words turned into an invitation? She had merelwanted to convey her exhaustion and desire for rest.

She replied firmly, "Patrick Pansy, stop being narcissistic. We're only together because of ourgrandfathers. All this will be over in three months. Behave yourself!"

Narcissistic? Patrick had never been called that by a woman before. A sudden chill replaced thewarmth in his eyes.

He scrutinized Jane from head to toe, saying, "Don't flatter yourself. You don't even have a goodfigure. If I wanted to sleep with someone, it wouldn't be you. You're not my type. I prefer my womerto be curvy, sophisticated, and pleasant.”

Jane was taken aback by his critique. She was proud of her curvaceous figure that turned heads."Oh, and you don't have a good figure either! None of your family members do. You're allunattractive!" she retorted, rolling her eyes at him. She felt like a rabbit who had just had its carrotstolen.

Patrick averted his gaze and said, "I don't have time for this. I'm going to the study.”

He stood up and left without a backward glance, though he couldn't get Jane out of his mind. Shewas beautiful, intelligent, confident, and unpretentious, but she wasn't what he was looking for.

As he left the room, he was reminded of an incident from when he was thirteen years old.

“Patrick, your hand is injured. Let me wrap it up for you," a girl with a ponytail, a few years youngerthan him, had said. She held out a handkerchief and skillfully bandaged his wound, tying a beautifubow.

"Does it hurt?" the girl had asked, revealing her beautiful big eyes.

Patrick had hugged her and reassured her, "No, it doesn't. Don't be scared, Candy. Help will comesoon; I'm sure of it."

As he snapped back to reality, he opened a drawer and took out a faded handkerchief. He gazed atit for a long moment, wondering where Candy was now and if she was living a good life.

The following morning, Jane awoke to an empty room. The other side of the bed was cold. HadPatrick stayed in the study all night? Jane wondered if she had misjudged him.

A powerful and handsome man like him must have many admirers. Jane was just a country girl; whywould he be interested in her when he had better options? Jane was relieved that he wasn'tpursuing her romantically; she didn't want anything to complicate matters.

Her lack of love life was the perfect excuse she could give her grandfather. However, she began tofeel that this arrangement might lead to trouble.

While pondering this, Jane hummed a song happily as she got ready for work. She had barely sat ather desk for a few minutes when Monica summoned her.

"What can I do for you?" Jane asked with indifference, weary of Monica's constant demands andmanipulations. She couldn't help but wonder what Monica had in store this time.