CHAPTER 8

As soon as Bridgette awoke, she slowly opened her eyes. She tried to get to her feet, but her head felt like it was about to explode. She took a look around and noticed she was in an old-fashioned bedroom with maroon-colored walls, furniture, and decor.

Everything, including her comforter and the bed on which she is currently resting, is a maroon hue. There are also old paintings from the Renaissance period and a bookshelf brimming with maroon-colored books.

'Where am I?" Bridgette said this while clutching her head. She looked around, but there was no one in the room except for a tray of water, medicine, a piece of toast, and a small note.

Her body trembled as she felt the chill of an air conditioner's cold air. Only then did she realize that she was completely naked beneath the thick comforter that was wrapped around her.

Suddenly, Bridgette was afraid and tried to recall the events of the night before she ended up in bed. She was on the verge of yelling when she decided not to do it, thinking that she might get in trouble if she did. 

‘I was at the office, then went to Trina, then I stopped by to drink at that red bar, then I met a guy-’ "The rich man in a royal blue coat!" Bridgette blurted out. Trying to keep herself calm, she wrapped herself in the maroon comforter to cover her delicateness and began searching all over the room.

She first picked up the note and read the message, "Take this medicine for your headache." Her eyebrows creased in confusion, Bridgette looked puzzled, but she already suspected that it was that guy who did this to her. She decided not to take it. It might be something that will knock her off. It’s too dangerous, she thought.

"I need clothes’, '' she thought to herself. There were around four doors in the room. She opened the first one. Luckily, it was a walk-in closet.

She looked around and discovered luxurious men's clothing and accessories. She scowls at the thought of being in a rich man's walk-in closet, which he loathed the most. For years, he had avoided wealthy people. It's almost as if she's developed an allergic response to them.

She grabbed a white dress shirt from the nearest rack and wore it. Even though the shirt's hem only reaches mid-thigh, she's better off not wearing anything at all.

She took the comforter and placed it quickly on top of the bed and proceeded to search other doors when the main door of the room swung open, revealing an old man, startling her. "Oh! My apologies. I’m sorry for startling you, Miss Bridgette, but Sir Tro— I mean Trent wanted to see you now, "the old man announced." Bridgette looked at him and noticed that he was blushing.

That’s when she realized that the thin fabric of the shirt wasn’t enough to cover her delicate parts. Under the white shirt, her breasts and lady parts are clearly visible. She tried to cover her body with her hands. "Y-Your clothes were washed and pressed inside the loo, Miss Bridgette," he said coyly, pointing at the door near the window.

He was trying not to look at Bridgette's nearly naked body. She wanted to ask him why he knew his name, but she decided to flee after giving the old man a deep bow and dashed to the restroom.

She found her fresh clothes on top of the bathroom sink inside a basket, including her underwear and her shoes beside it.

"Damn it! What the hell happened to you, Bridgette?!" She was scolding herself while putting on her clothes.

She looked at the mirror and gasped at her reflection. "Oh my gosh! I look horrible! "she exclaimed.

She quickly fixed herself and went out of the room, where she found the old man waiting for her outside.

"This way, Miss," he calmly said. She followed him quietly until they reached the dining room, where the man she was looking for was quietly eating his breakfast.

"She’s here, Sir," the old man said. Bridgette awkwardly smiled at him before he left. As soon as the butler left, Bridgette’s expression changed.

She walked towards where ‘Trent’ was seated and began to confront him. "Hey! What have you done to me?! Why did I wake up naked?! You're a monster! Why did you bring me here?!" she yelled, but the man looked unbothered.

He was about to speak when she interrupted him. Also, why did that old man know my name? " But the man just kept on eating without looking at her.

"Hey! Aren’t you going to answer my questions?!" She pounded her fists on the table, creating a loud noise and startling some cleaning housekeepers nearby.

"Sit down and eat. I'm not a kidnapper," he finally said, without looking at the frustrated woman yelling at her.

Feeling defeated, she hesitantly followed him and took a seat two chairs away from him.

"Eat." He firmly commanded again.

"I’m not hungry, I need answers," she stubbornly responded.

Finally, he turned his gaze toward her. He noticed her exposed neck because she had her hair in a messy bun instead of loosely hanging on her shoulders as it had been last night.

He felt a surge of heat in his cheeks. "J-Just eat first, will you?!" He wasn’t able to keep his composure anymore. He can’t stop looking at her neck. He looked flustered while she looked terrified with his reaction.

They both eat in peace. Fried eggs, sausages, back bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread, and black pudding make up her "fry-up," a traditional English breakfast . She drank it with a cup of hot coffee to warm up her body and relieve her headache from the hangover.

She didn’t notice that she was able to finish up her entire plate in a matter of five minutes. She was that famished. 

"I’m done eating now, talk!" she demanded. The man wiped his mouth and looked at her intently. 

"I am Trent. You are inside our house. You passed out last night so I took you here. Jerson, our butler knows your name because I checked your wallet inside your purse and saw your driver’s license, Miss Bridgette Dawson," he said uninterruptedly. 

Bridgette tried to quickly process everything he had just said. "Wait, then why am I naked? Did you?" she placed her hands on top of her chest thinking he molested her while she passed out.

Trent blushed in front of her. He felt embarrassed. "N-No! Of course not! Why would I take interest over that ugly physique?!" he retorted. He lied. He wasn’t able to sleep well last night thinking about her. It’s the first time he encountered a woman who didn't throw herself at him which piqued his interest.

"Ugly?! How dare you! But why am I naked?! Stop avoiding the question!" She became more furious with his answer. "You vomited. We had to take off your clothes because you started to stink. One of the maids gave you a sponge bath. I wasn’t there. I just gave the orders." Bridgette had never felt embarrassed more than what she’s feeling at the moment. She wished the earth would swallow her up right now.

"I-I…"

"No need to apologize. You may leave if you’re done eating." He snapped his finger and one of the housekeepers approached the table.

She was carrying her pink purse. She gave it to her and immediately left the dining area. Bridgette sighed in relief after seeing the contents inside her purse. Everything was there. She shyly thanked him and left.

The man retrieved a photo of Bridgette from his coat pocket. It brought a smile to his face as he gazed at it. He took it from her wallet last night.

Bridgette, on the other hand, discovered that the mansion was located in Mayfair as she made her way out of the house. Since she was a child, her father brought her here whenever he visited some of his friends and their relatives. You can't get to the city unless you have a car. One of London's priciest areas is Mayfair. This is where the mansions and mansions of the wealthy people were situated. 

"Damn it!" She shouted in frustration. She had no choice but to start walking. It would take her approximately three hours before she reached the nearest bus station from where she is.

She heard a car engine roaring, but she didn't pay much attention to it because she thought it was just another car in the neighborhood. But a familiar voice startled her from behind.

"Get in."

After she turned around, she saw Trent leaning against his car and looking like a fashion model.