Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 231: Tossing Flowers? Let Me Help You

Chapter 231: Tossing Flowers? Let Me Help You

"A banquet?" Emma Hart pondered, the thought sending a wave of discomfort through her. Why attend and invite awkwardness? "I’d rather not go," she decided after a moment of contemplation.

Oliver Westmore watched Emma closely, a smile breaking across his face as he lifted his head slowly, clearly pleased with her decision. "Alright, we’ll do as you wish. So, where to now?"

"Let’s go for dinner," Emma suggested, realizing she hadn’t eaten much since leaving work. The day’s events had whetted her appetite.

"We’ll go have dinner then. I was going to ask what you’d like, but you girls always say ’anything works,’ so I’ll make the choice for us—how about hot pot?" Oliver teased, his face wearing a doting smile as he sought Emma’s approval.

"That might leave us smelling of the meal," Emma noted thoughtfully.

"How about Japanese cuisine then?" Oliver proposed with a grin.

"No, the raw stuff isn’t to my taste, and I don’t like wasabi."

"Not all Japanese dishes come with wasabi, you know," Oliver joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Emma started to respond, but Oliver patiently interjected, "Then let’s have... Chinese food?"

Emma thought about the vast array of Chinese regional cuisines. Choosing Chinese meant deciding between dishes like Sichuan or Cantonese—another tough decision. She shook her head, feeling overwhelmed.

Waiting for another suggestion from Oliver, Emma looked up to find him silent, his gaze affectionately fixed on her. His eyes, filled with warmth and indulgence, overflowed with unspoken affection, making Emma realize her casual ’anything’ wasn’t so casual after all.

"Um... perhaps, just anything then," she said, slightly embarrassed.

"Then again, it seems my options weren’t varied enough. Let’s head to a multi-cuisine restaurant where you can have whatever you like," Oliver suggested, trying to accommodate her indecision.

Emma nodded, understanding that the meal wasn’t the priority—it was the company. Despite being hungry, she didn’t truly know what she wanted.

As Emma distractedly scrolled through her phone, which remained silent of any incoming calls, she absentmindedly nibbled on some food, twirling her chopsticks.

"Is it not to your liking? Look around, see what else you might want," Oliver asked, noticing her disinterest and leaning down to catch a glimpse of her discontented expression.

"Ah?" Emma blinked, looked up, and waved her hand dismissively. "I’m done eating."

"What’s wrong? Are you feeling alright?" Oliver Westmore asked with urgent concern.

Emma Hart felt she ought to be moved by such attentive care—wasn’t having someone so considerate better than anything? Yet, her emotions weren’t as strong as expected. "Thank you, Oliver," she replied earnestly, suddenly feeling it unfair to dine with him just to spite Damien Sterling.

"Don’t mention thanks or talk of debts. Feelings don’t work that way; no one owes anyone, and no one forced me to do any of this," Oliver responded gently.

"But... I don’t believe people just give without expecting something in return. Your kindness towards me leaves me unsure how to reciprocate," Emma confessed, her voice tinged with frustration. She didn’t want to owe anyone anything, yet Oliver’s unyielding kindness made it difficult for her to just accept it without feeling obligated.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Damien Sterling, causing her to quickly retrieve it, as if she had been waiting for it. "Where are you?" the message read, its tone cold and distant.

Such an annoying tone! In defiance, Emma tossed her phone aside, refusing to respond.

Oliver, noticing her actions, poured her some water and cautiously asked with a smile, "Who was that?"

"Ah, it’s nothing," Emma said, her gaze drifting away.

After that text, however, Emma became restless, occasionally glancing at her watch but too embarrassed to mention it to Oliver, who seemed unaffected and continued chatting freely.

Her phone buzzed again with another message from Damien, "Be home in half an hour." The words on the screen were stark, demanding her return within the hour—why should she listen to him?

Emma almost threw her phone in irritation but hesitated, her hand pausing mid-air as if pulled by some internal conflict. Despite not wanting to see Damien, the thought of leaving Oliver made her uncomfortable.

"Um... I think I should head back; I’m not feeling very well," Emma said, her voice filled with reluctance, as she apologetically looked at Oliver.

Oliver immediately set down what he was holding, his concern palpable. "What’s wrong? Are you okay?"

Emma shook her head, "It’s nothing, really."

Oliver Westmore drove Emma Hart partway home, stopping a safe distance from Damien Sterling’s residence to let her out.

As she prepared to leave the car, Oliver called her back. "Emma," he began, extending a bouquet towards her. "Take these with you. They shouldn’t stay with me."

Emma looked into Oliver’s hopeful eyes and nodded, accepting the flowers. She stepped out and watched him drive away, then gazed down at the bouquet in her hands. She glanced at the nearby trash can—she couldn’t just throw them away, could she? But if Damien saw them, it would surely spark another argument. Wasn’t that just inviting trouble?

Holding the beautiful bouquet near the trash can, Emma felt reluctant to part with it. Suddenly, lights flashed behind her. Shielding her eyes, she turned to see a black car pulling up, its headlights blinding.

Out of the glaring light, Damien Sterling stepped out and approached. His sudden appearance shouldn’t have been a surprise since this road was a route he often took.

Emma hurriedly hid the bouquet behind her back, wider than her own frame. As Damien drew closer, even in the dim light, his eyes seemed to cast a dark glow.

Frowning, Emma realized the flowers were too large to hide effectively. Resigned, she held the bouquet in front of her as Damien reached her.

Looking down at the flowers in her hands, Damien snatched them away and glanced at the trash can behind her. "Planning to throw these away?"

Before Emma could respond, Damien had already tossed the bouquet into the bin. "I’ll help you with that," he said, dismissing any further discussion.