Chapter 4: Using His Bath

After Derrick left his mother's room, he retired to his own room to rest. The night was chilly and looked like it was going to rain soon.

Derrick reflected on what his elder sister had said about him dating Alexa. He liked Alexa, but he wanted to focus on his father's firm first: expand it to other states and open mini branches around the world.

Returning to his room, Derrick noticed an unfamiliar scent lingering in the air. He switched on the wall light; his deep blue eyes darkened at the sight of a lady's gown and pants on the tiled marble floor.

Derrick also heard a feminine voice whispering in his bathroom. His room was vast: it contained a study, a sitting room, and a library where he had read some of his books before he graduated two years earlier.

Derrick also had a private gym in case he did not want to go to the main gym downstairs, which he shared with his sisters.

His sisters were all married and had left his mother's home. Nicole had been around until the previous year, but after she found her partner and moved out following an extravagant wedding, she was away too. Derrick was now home alone with his aged mother and the bodyguards who guarded their exquisite villa.

His anger boiled as he wondered who had dared to intrude on his privacy and, on top of that, use his bathroom.

One thing Derrick hated was sharing his personal space. He loved his mother and devoted all his attention to her, not to any younger woman. He didn't care about beautiful young women, so who had dared to intrude into his bedroom, knowing no one was allowed to disturb him when he was home?

The maids were only allowed to tidy his room when he had gone to the company, not when he was at home.

With a gentle stride, Derrick approached the bathroom door. He could hear water running and bubbling, and a woman whispering a sweet voice inside.

Recognizing the voice as similar to the maid he had been observing, Derrick's midnight eyes darkened. He opened the bathroom door to deal with the maid personally before handing her over to the guards to dismiss her.

However, Derrick had not expected to see her náked. As he pushed the bathroom door open, Miranda stepped out of the bathtub and was shocked to see his midnight blue eyes looking at her with so much anger.

Miranda was stunned for a moment as Derrick's gaze roamed over her body. Of course, she had an hourglass figure: her brẹasts were full and her hips extremely seductive.

Miranda was standing before the house master completely nude, and Derrick, who had not seen a nàked woman before, found it extremely hard to control the arousal he felt.

Without being told, Miranda quickly snatched a white towel in the bathroom and wrapped it around her chest to hide her nude body from his prying eyes.

"I am sorry, Master. I didn't mean to bathe here," Miranda's soothing voice filled the bathroom as she tried to get away. However, seeing Derrick rooted at the door and not moving, Miranda was terrified for her life.

She still needed her maid job to establish herself and was not ready to lose it.

Derrick was aroused to the point of near loss of control. He had never felt such intense desire before. Not only had the maid's voice stirred him, but seeing her body made him doubt he could resist.

He would have preferred her to be mute, but she had dared to speak, making him even more unstable.

"Shut up! What gave you the right to bathe here? Is this where maids are supposed to bathe?" Derrick's voice was incoherent; he couldn't speak like the boss he was. Seeing her body, he wanted to make love to her, but he had never had sex before. What if he killed her in the bed? No—this was not the plan.

"I am sorry, sir. I..." Miranda stammered.

"I said, shut up. Get out of here!" Derrick shouted. Miranda swiftly ran from the bathroom with the towel. She didn't even manage to wrap it properly; she slipped and fell, hitting her head against the wall.

Derrick was aghast; he thought Miranda had been knocked unconscious by the fall. He rushed to her and asked, "Are you all right? Does your head hurt?"

Derrick knew that if Miranda died in his bedroom, he would be blamed for murder. He had many enemies. At such a young age he'd become a billionaire overnight after inheriting his late father's wealth; even his bodyguards and assistants wouldn't dare to defend him. They would be the first to expose the murder to the inspector. So he had to make sure the maid was all right and not dead after hitting her head.

Miranda felt like she was seeing double as the house master knelt beside her, touching her head and checking if she was alive. She wanted to pretend she was dead so she could savour more of his intoxicating scent.

'Oh, he smelled so divine,' and she was aching to have him.

Miranda thought even if she had died, Master Derrick's cologne was enough to raise the dead and her body would resurrect just to be with him.

"Hey, are you all right?" Derrick caressed Miranda's cheek, not knowing the effect he had on her. Miranda tried to pretend to be unconscious, but she moaned, and only then did Derrick push her away.

"So you've been pretending to be unconscious all along!" Derrick was furious. He had not been touched by a woman before; most women avoided touching him. The only women who had touched him were his mother and older sisters. When he was younger, they would fondle his cheeks—he had chubby cheeks—and they often carried him when he was a little boy.

Growing up, his immediate elder sister Nicole mostly only hugged him and stopped touching his cheek as she became an adult. Only his mother still touched his cheeks; she called him her baby.

"No, sir... I was not... pretending—" Miranda stammered, still seeing double. She wanted to savour the house master's scent until she could not bear it any longer and moaned.

Standing up, Derrick ordered Miranda, "Get out, and do not try such nonsense with me again. Know your place—you are a maid here, and I could never have anything to do with a lowly woman like you! Have I made myself clear?"

Miranda's heart broke into sobs at the way Derrick had made it clear she was not of his level. She knew that she had been foolish to admire a man who was not on the same boat as her.

Picking up the towel that had fallen to the ground, Miranda stood up, not bothering to wrap it properly. She sobbed as she reached for her pink gown lying on the tiled floor.

She tossed the white towel away, and Derrick stood watching as she bent and picked up her pants and put them on.

Derrick was supposed to look away, but the way Miranda's behind looked so round and soft, he couldn't. He swallowed the saliva that had formed in his mouth as she picked up her pink gown and slipped it on.