Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 103: The Beautician

Chapter 103: The Beautician

The beautician, feeling quite troubled, gently but fearfully reached out again, touching Sophia Greenwood’s face with renewed tenderness.

Unable to afford offending either party, she was relieved that the other hadn’t sought her out yet.

Noticing the beautician settling back down, Sophia displayed a satisfied yet scornful smile.

She scoffed, "What about Mr. Sterling? Just another fleeting interest, no doubt. How many women do you think have lasted by Mr. Sterling’s side? Our families have been close for generations; what could he possibly do to me over this?"

Nodding in agreement, the beautician echoed Sophia’s sentiments, "Exactly, you and Mr. Sterling have known each other for so many years. How could you possibly be compared to those casual women outside? They really don’t see their own status and worth."

This mention of status and worth inevitably brought Emma Hart’s humble origins to Sophia’s mind. "Exactly, a girl from a common family, Mr. Sterling is merely intrigued by something new. How could the Sterling Group ever welcome a woman of such lowly status?"

As Sophia reveled in her own pride, a waiter rushed in again, flustered, "Why haven’t you gone over yet?"

Sophia looked over with disdain, "What’s all the fuss about? What could be so important?"

Compared to Damien Sterling, Sophia, despite being in a room for supreme clients, feared Damien more.

The manager followed, apologetically approaching with the latest product in hand.

"Miss Greenwood, my apologies. You are one of our most esteemed clients and a dear friend. Mr. Sterling just called from the office, expressing urgency, as he has an event tonight and wishes to bring a lady with him. We find ourselves in a difficult position and wanted to inform you, knowing how close you are to Mr. Sterling, hoping you would consider his feelings."

This put Sophia in a position where it was hard to refuse without losing face, yet it offered her a graceful way out.

Mr. Sterling? To think she’s invoking Damien Sterling now, Sophia Greenwood scoffed inwardly, hoping this woman’s claims held truth.

"Alright, alright, I understand. You go, but only because of Mr. Sterling," she conceded.

"Of course, Miss Greenwood, we truly apologize for the inconvenience. As a gesture of our apology, please accept this bottle of top-tier caviar treatment on us," the manager said respectfully, placing the item down with a smile.

Sophia glanced at it; indeed, it wasn’t of low quality. Caviar treatments, costing upwards of thousands for just one session, were not something she’d usually disregard.

However, Sophia wasn’t one to fuss over such expenses. "Just deduct it from my card," she stated nonchalantly.

"Very well, Miss Greenwood. We won’t disturb you any further," the manager said, exiting with the previously brash waiter.

Once outside, the manager’s face turned stern, "What were those absurd things you said? Do you not understand how to maintain good customer relations?"

The waiter, head bowed, endured the scolding, admiring the manager’s skill in handling situations — a necessary trait for their position.

Meanwhile, in Emma Hart’s room, after a lengthy facial treatment, the attendant carefully massaged Emma, trying to make conversation to ease the long wait.

"Miss Emma, many people experience dry skin during pregnancy, but yours remains moist and radiant... Let me massage this area a bit more," the young attendant said cautiously, knowing compliments were a reliable way to please customers, though her comments to Emma were genuinely heartfelt.

Checking the time, nearly twenty minutes had passed. Women like Emma, favored by the affluent, often had demanding personalities.

Expecting impatience from Emma, the attendant was surprised by her quiet patience and lack of difficulty.

"You don’t have to continue the massage; take a break, you must be tired," Emma said kindly, her approachability shining through.

Hearing Emma’s words, the attendant saw the genuine smile on her face, feeling an instant connection and smiling back, "It’s okay, this is our job after all."

Guests usually treated them with entitlement, rarely showing kindness, reminding the attendant that true character is revealed in how one treats service workers.

The door behind gently opened, and a senior beautician entered, "Miss Emma, my apologies for the wait. We’ll begin your prenatal care now."

"Alright, thank you," Emma Hart nodded, still unaccustomed to such high-end treatment.

Surrounded by attendants, she couldn’t help feeling like a lady of olden times from a wealthy landowner’s family.

But the beautician’s skills were undeniable.

Her fingertips softly touched Emma’s face, applying just the right amount of pressure, her professional technique allowing Emma to relax completely, her eyelids growing heavy without her realizing.

"If you’re feeling tired, just relax your body and sleep..." the beautician’s gentle voice whispered in Emma’s ear, seemingly lulling her into sleep.

Unaware, as Emma drifted off, a man entered the room behind her.

The beautician glanced back at the man, her years in the beauty industry had exposed her to countless faces, both natural and enhanced.

Yet, this man’s features and skin, from a professional’s perspective, were impeccable, as if he’d stepped right out of a camera lens, his appearance certainly enduring under scrutiny.

Surprised, she opened her mouth to speak, but the man behind her signaled for silence.

At the door, the manager cracked it open slightly, signaling to the beautician that this man’s presence, despite the clear "No Men Allowed" policy, was permitted by her.

Naturally, this man’s status was supreme for the salon to break its long-standing rule.

The beautician rose from her seat, allowing the man who had just entered to take her place.

She left, entrusting Emma Hart to the man.

Emma, in a daze, felt the touch on her face change. It wasn’t just the pressure but the technique too, far from professional...

But she shrugged it off, perhaps the beautician was tired. Emma wasn’t one to fuss.

Barely opening her eyes, the sight of the man before her nearly made her fall off the beauty bed. Was this a dream?

Emma quickly shut her eyes, reaching out to feel for the beautician’s hand.

This hand... Although the skin was smooth, the structure told Emma it definitely wasn’t a woman’s hand!

Could it be she hadn’t been mistaken just now?

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