Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 184: Dress Clash? The Awkwardness of Looking Worse

Chapter 184: Dress Clash? The Awkwardness of Looking Worse

Amidst a sea of clinking glasses, Emma Hart entered the banquet hall arm in arm with Damien Sterling.

The faces around them wore smiles of arrogance, displaying a disdain for everyone present.

However, as soon as they caught sight of Damien, the crowd converged around him.

Emma, seizing the moment, attempted to slip away from Damien’s side, only to find her arm firmly clasped by his.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Damien looked down at Emma, his tone indicating displeasure. Was she so eager to distance herself from him? So anxious to leave?

Emma lowered her gaze, the approaching group with their raised glasses resembling a swarm of monsters to her.

She detested such gatherings, unwilling to mingle with the crowd and endure the torment of incessant flattery on her ears.

"I need to use the restroom," Emma claimed, hoping this excuse would grant her an escape. If even this wasn’t allowed, it would be a gross injustice.

"Hold it!" commanded Damien, his grip tightening to show he clearly wouldn’t permit her to leave.

Hold it? Emma had just been thinking that Damien wouldn’t be so unreasonable, forgetting that in her world, he was the rule.

Resigned, Emma faced the advancing group, forcing a smile as radiant as any flower.

"Yes, Mr. President," she said, her voice laced with resignation towards Damien.

As people approached to mingle with Damien, they inevitably sized up Emma. In such settings, women often compared themselves to one another. Yet, despite their flashy attire, these women couldn’t help but divert their gaze upon seeing Emma.

Emma Hart’s figure was already admirable, and with the addition of meticulously chosen accessories, her ostensibly simple black evening dress transcended simplicity, exuding elegance in its minimalism. The shawl draped over her shoulders accentuated her grace perfectly.

"Mr. Sterling, you do have an exquisite taste; your companion looks stunning."

"Is that dress of yours custom-made?"

"And that necklace... it’s beautiful."

One of the women said enviously. The necklace, seemingly ordinary at a glance, sparkled exceptionally well when paired with her outfit, giving off an air of sophistication.

Emma Hart responded awkwardly, "Thank you, yours is lovely as well."

Since when had the focus shifted to her? Weren’t they supposed to be flattering Damien Sterling?

When did the attack switch to her from the wives’ group?

A strong perfume scent lingered from behind, cutting through the air with its presence, even among a plethora of fragrances, it stood out assertively.

The women nearby turned their attention towards the source as the sound of high heels approached closer. Emma Hart turned around to find Sofia Greenwood making her entrance.

Sofia Greenwood’s standing in the Sterling Group was well-known, as was her long-standing relationship with Damien Sterling, attracting inevitable flattery.

Sofia Greenwood was always the belle of the ball, her attire and accessories without fail made her the center of attention at every event.

"Miss Greenwood, you look particularly radiant today."

"Miss Greenwood, this dress..." The woman began, intending to offer her habitual praise, but as her gaze settled on Sofia Greenwood’s attire, she unexpectedly noticed it seemed...

Turning, she saw that it was identical to the one Emma Hart was wearing, prompting an awkward exchange of glances that caught Sofia Greenwood’s attention.

It was then that Sofia realized her dress was the same as Emma’s, though Emma’s seemed more elegant with her pale yellow shawl draped over it.

Sofia Greenwood, with her wavy long hair and heavy makeup, looked dazzling. The brilliance of her necklace combined with her black evening gown exuded a sensual aura, intensified by the seductive scent of her perfume.

Sofia’s goal for the evening was clear: to be the center of attention, including catching the eye of Damian Sterling. Sofia had always believed she was Damian’s inevitable choice, eagerly awaiting the day he would tire of others and return to her side.

Emma Hart’s makeup was not as bold, yet she appeared refreshingly beautiful. Being only two years younger than Sofia, Emma managed to emphasize the slight age difference with a goose-yellow shawl that made her black dress seem less somber. Instead, it highlighted Emma’s charm and gentleness.

Sofia’s lips twitched, but she would never let her displeasure show. "Let’s have a drink together," suggested a woman beside Sofia, noticing the discomfort and offering a toast to defuse the situation.

After all, no amount of talking would change opinions about the dress, and in the end, the winner would be the one beside Damian Sterling. Clearly, Sofia felt outmatched in this respect.

Not far behind, a new voice emerged as Oliver Westmore appeared in a suit, becoming the center of female attention at the party next to Damian Sterling.

Seizing the moment, Emma Hart slipped away, seeking a quiet place to stay for a while, frustrated by the dress debacle. She regretted not choosing something more standout to avoid this embarrassment.

For Emma, it wasn’t the matching dresses that were dreadful, but looking worse in comparison.

She wished to transfer all the embarrassment to herself, hoping it would bring Sofia some comfort.

Emma Hart leaned against the window, savoring the dessert she had just picked up, finding solace in the least crowded spot, her favorite.

Observing Damian Sterling surrounded by a group not too far away, she felt content, knowing he wouldn’t be joining her anytime soon.

"Is it that delicious?"

The voice of Oliver Westmore came from behind her.

Emma placed her fork down, glanced at the dessert, then at Oliver, nodding in affirmation, "It really is quite delightful."

She wasn’t lying. If there was anything on this cruise that captured her interest, it certainly was the delectable dessert.

Oliver Westmore, with a wine glass in hand, approached Emma, offering her the glass. Emma took it, hesitatingly, "I can’t drink alcohol."

Oliver’s movement paused momentarily, as if pierced by a thorn, a fleeting shadow of melancholy crossing his eyes. His gaze fixed on Emma.

What was he looking at? Emma wondered, her gaze starting to drift, almost preferring the awkwardness of wearing the same dress as Sophia Greenwood to this discomfort.

Just as she was about to stand, Oliver’s hand reached out, brushing the corner of her lips in an instant.

Emma’s eyes flickered as Oliver withdrew his hand, "You had something there."

Oliver smiled slightly, gesturing towards the cream on his own hand.

Emma hastily wiped it off, flustered, "I could have managed that myself."

After her words, a chill seemed to breeze through, a cold aura enveloping her surroundings.

Instinctively, Emma scanned the area, finding Damian Sterling had vanished from the crowd.