Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 138: Aren’t You Quite the Talker?

Chapter 138: Aren’t You Quite the Talker?

Emma Hart followed the path illuminated by streetlights, occasionally glancing at the malls lining the streets.

Now and then, she saw women, arms laden with shopping bags, exiting the malls with smiles.

Couples licked ice cream, hand in hand, exuding affection.

Vehicles on the road moved in an orderly fashion, and despite everyone’s eagerness to return home, there was a calm wait.

Everything around her seemed beautiful, lifting her spirits inexplicably.

Perhaps, releasing pent-up frustrations in front of Damien Sterling had finally allowed her heart to revel in such unbridled joy and pleasure.

The evening breeze felt cold. The rustling of leaves from the roadside trees signaled the chill in the air, and Emma, clad only in a cardigan, felt a bit cold.

She instinctively shrank into herself, crossing her arms in front of her chest to ward off the cold.

Suddenly, a car horn honked impatiently from behind.

Just moments before, Emma had admired the city’s orderly traffic; now, she was irked by the anxious beeping behind her.

Turning around to see what was happening, she was momentarily blinded by flashing headlights. Shielding her eyes, she recognized the vehicle as Damien Sterling’s—a rare sight in the city.

The question arose: why was his car trailing her?

Without warning, Damien Sterling emerged from the car and strode towards Emma.

Before she could react, he assertively draped his jacket over her shoulders and brusquely pulled her into his embrace.

The sequence of actions was so swift, Emma was taken by surprise and found herself being led towards the car.

In a chilling tone, Damien whispered in her ear, "Were you off to meet some other man?"

Stopping in her tracks, Emma faced Damien Sterling and said, "Mr. Sterling, please watch your words."

She immediately regretted her retort. After all, this was a rather mild reaction from Damien following their argument.

He hadn’t resorted to his usual method of throwing a black bag over her head and whisking her away to his mansion in a car.

That she dared to speak out was audacious. But once the words were out, how could she take them back?

With a determined push from the man, Emma Hart found herself propelled forward from behind until she was unceremoniously stuffed into the car.

The door slammed shut with force, leaving them in the dimly lit confines of the vehicle. Emma could almost hear the man’s ragged breathing in the close space.

Was he angry? Or still angry, perhaps.

Even in the subdued light, Emma managed to catch a glimpse of the man’s eyes. They shone with an intensity that was both mesmerizing and slightly terrifying.

"You seem to have a soft spot for other men," he remarked.

Listening to Damien Sterling’s words, Emma felt something odd, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. However, watching the expression on Damien’s face, she couldn’t help but feel a secret thrill.

She retorted, playing along with his comment, "If someone were to call you a wild man, I’d stand up for you too!"

"Oh? So you treat me the same as any other man?"

"Absolutely, without distinction," she replied, her words clearly provoking Damien Sterling.

"There’s no equality here." His gaze, sharp and predatory, landed on Emma’s innocently radiant face.

In an unexpected move, Damien twisted Emma’s face to meet his in the cramped space of the car.

She barely had time to react before everything went dark, and her lips were covered by something moist and soft.

Emma was left breathless from the kiss, struggling to catch her breath.

Desperately, she tried to push him away, but to no avail. Finally freeing herself from his embrace, she didn’t utter another word for the remainder of the journey.

Damien, on the other hand, seemed smugly pleased with himself, teasing her about her previously sharp tongue. "What happened? Lost your nerve?"

"You..." Emma was too angry to form words.

Why do men do such things? It seems only men enjoy these moments, while women feel violated. Emma wondered how a man like Damien Sterling would react if the roles were reversed. Would he be happy, or feel as she did?

The inequality between men and women was glaring.

As the car pulled into the villa, Emma stormed out. Mrs. Harris, just opening the door, hadn’t even begun to speak when Emma brushed past her and went straight upstairs.

Mrs. Harris, confused, looked from Emma to Damien, who didn’t seem as stern as one might expect from a quarrel.

"Sir, the dinner has cooled down a bit. I’ll make it fresh," Mrs. Harris offered respectfully.

Damien glanced towards the stairs, gesturing dismissively, "No need, the lady has had her fill tonight."

With that, a subtle smile played on his lips.

Inside the offices of Sterling Group, the door swings open with a confidence only possessed by one individual—Logan Harrington of the Harrington Global Enterprises.

As the sole heir, his casually tousled flaxen hair and the intentionally raffish white suit complement his striking figure and looks, a gift from his mixed heritage, courtesy of his mother’s British lineage, lending him a quarter of English blood and a pair of light brown eyes brimming with allure.

Despite his privileged status, Logan’s interest barely grazes the surface of corporate affairs.

His evenings are most enjoyed mingling in elite clubs, with a history of countless girlfriends, marking him as a quintessential playboy.

Since his return from studying abroad, he was roped into the family business, biding his time to eventually take over his father’s mantle.

Logan Harrington, with a hint of sleep still clouding his eyes, nonchalantly grabs a coffee from Damien Sterling’s desk, gulps it down, and sprawls across the sofa opposite Sterling, legs propped up.

"What urgent matter drags me here at this ungodly hour, Mr. Sterling?" he inquires with a yawning indifference.

Damien Sterling responds with a frosty tone, "And where did you vanish to last night?"

"Vanish? I was merely unwinding. Seeking leisure, you know. Fresh from my studies abroad and here you are, neglecting me. Just a lone soul here," Logan retorts with feigned sorrow.

Sterling taps his desk, signaling, "Come, take a look."

Approaching, Logan glances at the photos on the table, flicks them casually, and quips, "A man and a woman. What of it?"

He pauses, taking a closer look, his interest piqued as he recognizes the individuals, then looks up at Sterling, "Emma Hart, Oliver Westmore."

The woman belongs to Damien Sterling; the man, a rival of the Sterling clan. "Interesting," he muses with a smirk.

"What brings these two together?" he puzzles, frowning slightly, placing the photo down to scrutinize Sterling’s expression—furrowed brows accompanied by a storm of anger.

Unable to contain himself, Logan bursts into laughter, "Ah, I see. Our Mr. Sterling is green with envy."

Annoyed, Sterling snatches the photo, pushing Logan away from his desk, "You’re here to look at the photo, not to babble."

"What’s there to see? This?" Logan gestures dismissively.

"Isn’t this enough?" Sterling retorts.