You Looked Down on Me Once Now You Look Up (Patricia and Oliver) novel Chapter 473

Mr. Padilla caught the heat in her eyes and suddenly realized it had been ten days since they’d last touched each other. First, she’d had her period, then she’d taken a few days to rest.

“You want to see me wear them?” he asked with a teasing lift of his brow.

Patricia looked up, cautious but hopeful. “Can I?”

“Of course.” He would never say no to Patricia. She was just too good, too easy to please—she never asked for much. That made this rare, late-night request even more special.

She just wanted to see him with his glasses—not anyone else. Why wouldn’t he say yes?

A few minutes later, Patricia sat on the sofa, eyes fixed on Oliver, now wearing his rimless glasses. The look she gave him was pure admiration, impossible to hide.

Some people just had it. No matter what, the best would always stand out.

Patricia’s fingertip gently landed on the bridge of his nose. His skin was warm, almost electric. She started to pull her hand away, but Oliver caught her fingers, pulled her up, and scooped her into his arms.

He carried her to the master bedroom in long, confident strides.

Patricia, knowing exactly how this night would end, switched off the bedside lamp. At this point, she knew there was no way she’d be getting much sleep.

It wasn’t until the sky was turning light that she finally gave in and gently pushed him away.

Mr. Padilla braced himself on one arm, his voice playful and a little put out. “You started this, and now you’re the one giving up?”

Patricia didn’t say a word, just looked at him with big, pleading eyes.

She knew he couldn’t resist that look. She didn’t need to say anything—he’d always give in.

After a long moment, Oliver let out a soft sigh.

He got up, gathered her in his arms, and carried her to the bathroom for a shower.

By five in the morning, the kitchen downstairs was already coming to life.

Patricia, wrapped up snug under the comforter, drifted right back to sleep when Oliver settled her in bed.

He pressed the call button, and Johns came up to take the doctor to get some rest.

Johns hesitated, looking unsure. “Sir, are you sure? I’m being paid for this. It’s really my responsibility.”

Honest and respectful. Oliver found himself liking this young man more than he’d ever liked Sara.

“It’s fine. You’ve been up all night, it’s almost morning. Go get some sleep.”

“Johns,” Oliver said, glancing at him. Johns smiled and turned to the young doctor. “Come on, this way.”

“This is the last IV bag,” the doctor said. “When it’s finished, just call me—I’ll come remove the needle.”

“Got it,” Oliver replied.

He settled into the armchair in Roger’s room, closed his eyes, and tried to rest.

Every ten or fifteen minutes, he’d wake up and check on things, keeping watch until the clock hit seven thirty.