Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 224: Mr. Sterling, Do You Have an Iron?

Chapter 224: Mr. Sterling, Do You Have an Iron?

A smile unexpectedly curled the corners of Emma Hart’s lips. When did this man learn to serve others? She was about to grab the handles of the tray to pour the soup when Damien Sterling suddenly understood what was happening.

"Put it down."

What now? Emma Hart looked at Damien Sterling with an expression of confusion, faced with yet another cold command.

Hesitating momentarily, Emma released her grip and sat back down, staring at Damien in disbelief. He stepped forward, grabbed the handles of the tray—which were unexpectedly hot, causing his pale fingers to jerk back briefly—then carefully poured the soup for Emma and placed the jar back down with precise care. Then, Damien pushed the bowl of soup towards her. "Drink it."

Emma could only marvel at Damien Sterling. It was just a bowl of soup, but the way he spoke, it might as well have been a dose of deadly poison. Why couldn’t he just talk normally?

Turning her head, Emma caught Damien’s gaze. Why was he being so awkward? She reached out to take the soup from him, but her other hand moved towards his forehead.

Damien instinctively ducked back. "What are you doing?"

Emma had no weapon in her hand; what was he afraid of?

With a resigned sigh, Emma reached out again, and this time he didn’t dodge. Her warm fingers touched Damien’s forehead, then she spread her fingers apart, "Mr. Sterling, do you have an iron in your office?"

Emma couldn’t help but laugh. "Doesn’t it tire you to frown all the time? You’re so young, yet you look like an old man."

In a swift motion, Damien grabbed Emma’s hand, a flash of anger in his eyes as he looked deeply into hers, "It’s because of you."

That intense look sometimes made it hard for Emma to tell if he was genuinely angry or just pretending. However, his stern face soon softened into a more serene expression, "You could try annoying me less."

Emma Hart pointed at herself incredulously, "Me? When have I ever troubled Mr. Sterling?" She bowed her head, muttering softly, "I wouldn’t dare."

"Who dares if you don’t?" Damien Sterling retorted. No woman had ever managed to irritate him quite like Emma Hart had—she was the first.

With a light smirk, Emma looked down at the soup in her bowl, realizing she might have created a few firsts here. "Alright, got it," she laughed softly.

Damien’s brow furrowed slightly, almost subconsciously, then relaxed as if a thought had just occurred to him. He then watched Emma sip her soup, "Hurry up and drink your soup before it gets cold."

After a satisfying meal, Emma contentedly wiped the grease from her lips. Damien, sitting beside her, looked on with disdain, wondering where he had found such an unpretentious woman.

He pulled a napkin from the box on the table and handed it to her, "Wipe your mouth."

Emma spread her hands, laughing, "No need, it’s already on my hands."

"Then wipe your hands!" Damien turned away, tired of the idle chatter.

This woman was soon going to be helpless.

"How will you take care of children in the future?" Damien queried.

As Emma wiped her mouth, she thought about tossing the napkin on the table but decided against it, clutching it in her hand instead. Carelessly discarding it would only tarnish the opulence of Damien’s office, and he would surely scold her more.

The matter of children? Did Emma really need to worry about that?

"Mr. President, as long as you don’t go bankrupt, the kids should have a nanny. They probably won’t even need me as a mother."

Mother? The word felt strange to Emma; after saying it, she closed her mouth. Looking up, she saw Damien staring at her, causing her to hastily rise from her seat, eager to change the subject, "Mr. President, I’ve completed my work here, so I’ll be leaving now!"

Damien seemed reluctant to engage further, merely flicking two fingers to dismiss her.

Every time this happened, Emma pondered their relationship. It seemed her words were not amiss; wasn’t she indeed the mother of the child? Yes, of course.

Even though Damien Sterling always maintained a cold demeanor, Emma Hart found him less intimidating now, as if the man who had once seemed like an iceberg was slowly melting before her eyes.

With light steps, Emma left the office, her mood surprisingly upbeat. Returning to the design department, she noticed that all her colleagues had already left for the day. Just as she was gathering her things to leave, she turned around and nearly walked into Damien, who was already waiting at the entrance of the department. His tall figure, clad entirely in black, loomed in the brightly lit office, stark against the dark outside, startling her, "Do you always have to appear out of nowhere?"

"Should I make a grand entrance instead?" Damien retorted, his frustration evident. He hated having to instruct his assistant to delete security footage every day—did she really think he enjoyed this inconvenience?

"I’ll have the assistant send tonight’s surveillance footage to the company group chat," Damien said coolly, his eyes unflinching and devoid of any expression.

Panicked by his words, Emma rushed forward, clutching his arm and looking up at him, "I was wrong, okay? Mr. Sterling, I talked too much, please, no more."

It was just that she hadn’t reacted sooner; now that she had, it wasn’t too late.

After her apology, Emma met Damien’s icy gaze again. His eyes then drifted from her face to his own arm, where her arm still rested.

Following his gaze, Emma quickly released her grip, laughing awkwardly. She had impulsively thrown herself at him, overwhelmed in the moment by his serious words—for Damien was someone whose actions never considered others.

But when Emma’s arm left his, Damien’s pupils seemed deeper and colder than before, chillingly devoid of emotion and somehow even more intimidating.

Confused by his reaction, Emma questioned what it meant. What was going on?

Damien’s voice was indifferent, "Put it back."

His eyes locked firmly on Emma’s arm.

How could she ’put it back’? Trembling slightly from the uncertainty of Damien’s intentions, Emma hesitantly raised her arm, finally returning it to the position it was before.

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