Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 199: Indeed, All He Cared About Were His Shoes

Chapter 199: Indeed, All He Cared About Were His Shoes

"What’s your plan?" Damian Sterling blocked every escape route for Emma Hart, standing before her like an insurmountable wall, or rather, a king making his presence felt.

Over just a pair of shoes? Was this man serious? Could a woman not be more important than a pair of shoes? The look on Nina Waters’ face was utterly wasted.

If Nina knew that the executive she had been flirting with was now completely ignoring her ruined makeup, focusing instead on a pair of shoes, would she be heartbroken? Lifting her head, Emma caught Damian’s intimidating gaze. His eyes profound, seemed to emit a chill, his sharp gaze landing on Emma, making her hastily divert her eyes.

Why was he glaring at her again? "So... you think the makeup used by celebrities isn’t all that great?" Emma ventured with a foolish smile, thinking she was cleverly changing the subject. Looking towards the hallway, she thought of the old saying, "The best plan is to retreat."

"Hey, where do you going?" Emma pretends to say hello to others.

As Emma took a step forward, Damian’s arm swiftly blocked her path against the wall. "Where to?"

Feeling deflated, was Emma supposed to keep arguing with Damian Sterling? Seizing the moment, she bent down, attempting to escape beneath Damian’s arm. Agilely, Damian moved his arm lower, blocking her path again.

"Brother..." Emma pleaded, on the verge of tears. Since when did Damian develop such a peculiar sense of humor? Was he now imitating those dramatic wall-pin scenes from TV dramas, capable of moving at will?

"Who’s your ’brother’?" The question seemed pointless. It was merely an exclamation, expressing her utter frustration.

"Not you!"

"Then who am I?" Damian’s gaze fell on Emma, scrutinizing her as her eyes darted around, which only piqued his interest in playing this game with her.

Damian Sterling’s face drew closer, allowing Emma Hart to breathe in his scent more clearly – a tantalizing mix of elegance and a hint of tobacco that was irresistibly enticing.

If it weren’t for the sake of her pride, Emma would have taken a deep breath to savor the aroma. Instinctively, she found herself leaning towards Damian, attracted by his scent, only to find his features closing in on her own face so closely she could see every detail.

"Must we be this close?" Emma thought, her back against the wall, nowhere to retreat. Her tiptoes barely touched the ground, pushed to her limits by Damian, thinking it might distance him. But it was futile.

"Who am I?" he demanded.

"You’re the boss! No, wait, the younger brother... Oh, please, just back off a bit!" Emma was near tears, overwhelmed by their proximity. This place wasn’t exactly safe – what if a colleague walked by? The gossip at the company would be endless if they were seen like this.

Creating a gap between her body and the wall only gave Damian the opportunity to take advantage of her vulnerability. He wrapped an arm around Emma’s waist, pulling her close, her tiptoes now finding their unintended purpose, facilitating a kiss she hadn’t anticipated. It felt like digging her own grave.

A moment of intense closeness followed... and then Damian let her go, looking utterly satisfied. Emma, on the other hand, was visibly displeased, wiping her mouth frantically with her hand, glaring at Damian in indignation.

But what use was her anger now? Damian had done what he wanted, and Emma could only pretend to be the hero after the fact, a role she could scarcely maintain for minutes.

"Wipe your mouth again, and I’ll help you," Damian teased, his tone laced with unfinished desire. Emma knew all too well the reprehensibility of his character; his offer to "help" was far from innocent.

Emma immediately stopped wiping her mouth, standing straight, no longer daring any peculiar movements. She made sure there was not the slightest gap between her body and the wall behind her to prevent any further advances from Damian. Slightly crouching, she positioned herself to ensure that even if he leaned down, he couldn’t reach her.

"May I leave now?" Emma Hart asked in a soft voice, laced with a hint of grievance. Her demeanor spoke volumes of submission, as if to say, Damien Sterling, haven’t you done enough already? Why not let me go?

Damien Sterling’s gaze lingered on Emma, making her squirm uncomfortably under his inscrutable eyes. It seemed like he was always harboring some unfathomable plan.

Emma tried to avoid Damien’s piercing look, as if by not meeting his eyes, she could somehow prevent his strange thoughts. It was like trying to hide from the truth by covering her ears.

Damien noticed Emma’s uneasy expression and couldn’t help but smirk, his anger seemingly dissolving in an instant. He had an undeniable soft spot for her, for reasons even he couldn’t articulate.

What was it about her that he found so compelling? Damien himself couldn’t say. And getting addicted to anything was something Damien Sterling despised the most.

"The shoe is yours!" Damien’s arm fell to his side as he turned and casually remarked.

Emma, suddenly freed from her constraints, took a moment to process his words. By the time she realized what he meant, Damien had already walked a few steps away. What shoe? How did it end up being her responsibility?

Emma hurried after him, "What do you mean, it’s on me?"

She reached out and grabbed the hem of Damien’s shirt. He turned, looking down at her action, causing Emma to retract her hand in panic.

Then, thinking it over, she felt she had done nothing wrong and deserved an explanation. Otherwise, she’d be saddled with debt for no reason at all!

When would this end?

As Damien turned to face her, Emma was about to cave again, "Um... I just wanted to ask, how much for the shoes?"

"One hundred and fifty thousand," Damien stated calmly.

Emma nearly choked. What kind of shoes were they, encrusted with diamonds? She looked down, searching for any sign of extravagance on Damien’s shoes. Unless there was a check for One hundred and fifty thousand attached to them, how could they possibly be worth One hundred and fifty thousand?

Quickly, Emma pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket, squatted down, and wiped Damien’s shoe, erasing the mark she had left. Standing up, she smiled at Damien, "There! Good as new!"

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