Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 241: Sit Down and Eat Properly

Chapter 241: Sit Down and Eat Properly

Under the watchful eye of Damien Sterling, Emma Hart had gradually developed various good habits. She had no choice but to live like an elderly person, taking care of her health, or Damien would summon her upstairs for a stern reprimand.

Still, there were many things that Emma couldn’t manage to finish in the design department, such as deciding on the health soups to drink.

Completely immersed in her design drafts, Emma couldn’t let down Amelia Davidson, who had entrusted her with a significant responsibility. Driven by the good habits instilled by Damien, Emma reluctantly set an alarm to avoid missing his reminders and brewing trouble for herself.

When the alarm went off, Emma checked her phone, which alerted: "Time to go upstairs for your soup!"

Alright, Emma stood up, grabbing her phone and headed upstairs.

Sometimes, she wondered if Damien was genuinely busy all day or just pretending, as his secretary would bring in documents, and Damien would briefly admire her legs and face before signing off with a simple OK.

Emma walked into the office as usual, picked up the bowl on the desk, and drank the unidentified soup—whether she wanted to or not mattered little; if Damien said drink, she drank.

Wiping her mouth, Emma cleaned the soup dribbling from her lips without looking up, preparing to leave.

"Can’t you see the napkin?" Damien’s voice carried a hint of shadow, his eyes darkening. What was she rushing for? He had been watching her, yet she seemed utterly oblivious to his gaze. Was he that insignificant to her?

Emma turned her head and wiped her lips again, looking down at her seemingly clean hands. "My hands are pretty clean."

Emma failed to grasp Damien’s point.

Damien Sterling gave Emma a disdainful glance, truly, she was a carefree girl.

For over two decades, Damien had never imagined that his life would intertwine with such a woman.

"Come back here."His voice was cold. "Sit back down!"

Emma halted her steps, returned to Damien’s desk, and turned her face towards him, pouting, "What’s the matter?"

Emma Hart watched the brooding expression on the man’s face, puzzled by what might have caused his sudden stern demeanor, though she figured that was just typical of Damien Sterling.

"Don’t you know you should sit down to eat?" he said sternly.

"I do," Emma replied, lifting her face. She had her hands full, juggling design drafts and dealing with Damien Sterling.

"Then sit down and eat properly," the man glowered at her with dissatisfaction.

Emma glanced at the white porcelain bowl in front of her, nodded with her chin, and looked up at Damien. "I get it, but it’ll have to be next time, the bowl is empty now."

With that, Emma turned and sprinted towards the door. "It won’t happen again, Mr. President!" she called out as she ran.

Leaving the office felt like escaping, as surviving around Damien Sterling meant being a bit thicker-skinned and more agreeable—everything else would be easier.

The less she defied this man, the better.

Emma bounced away lightly, her mood seemingly uplifted. Damien watched her rabbit-like figure with resignation. Why was she so cheerful?

Picking up his phone, Damien looked at his reflection in the black, glossy screen, furrowing his brows. Was his expression not stern enough, not fierce enough? It seemed like she was no longer intimidated by him.

Damien made a fierce face at his reflection in the dark screen and chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving the door through which Emma had just exited. A smile crept onto his face despite himself.

When Emma returned to her seat, Amelia Davidson paid another visit, wearing knee-length light beige boots with a modest five-centimeter heel that flattered her legs while adding a feminine touch.

Amelia always insisted on heels, even for driving, declaring that a woman ought to wear them to maintain her poise. Thus, even in her late thirties—or nearing forty—Amelia never compromised on things that could diminish her elegance.

Tight jeans and an off-white sweater complemented her flowing hair. From just her silhouette and figure, anyone would believe if told she was only in her twenties. Maintaining such grace at her age surely took effort.

Emma Hart playfully tapped Amelia Davidson on the shoulder and exclaimed, "Hey!" She then quickly darted to the other side, hoping to startle Amelia.

However, Amelia had already seen through her little trick and, smiling, pulled out a box of prunes. "You said these were delicious last time in my car, so I bought you a box."

Emma took one, about to pop it into her mouth, but remembering the unfamiliar soup she had just drunk, she suddenly lost her appetite and placed the prune back in the box, giggling, "I don’t really feel like eating right now."

The scent of the rich soup she had consumed wafted from her mouth.

Amelia leaned closer and sniffed, teasingly asking, "Did you sneak off to eat something tasty?"

Emma laughed awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as she pulled up a chair and sat down. "No... not really."

"That’s strange, it smells like some kind of soup," Amelia mused aloud.

"What brings you here, sis?" Emma quickly changed the subject to distract Amelia from probing further.

Amelia leaned on the table and slapped her forehead, remembering, "I came to remind you about something important! The manager of our new collaboration is a peculiar old man who values originality highly. So, unlike before, we absolutely cannot borrow any ideas this time, not even a tiny bit."

Emma nodded. She had entered the design field quite late, and most of her designs were her own original ideas, given her limited exposure to other works. This seemed to be an advantage now—her mind wasn’t cluttered with others’ ideas, which should help avoid plagiarism and borrowing.

Returning to her computer to continue working, Amelia suddenly slammed the laptop shut.

Emma looked up at her, puzzled, "What’s the matter, sis?"

Amelia leaned over, tapping on the computer, "My silly little sister, your sense of security is too lax! You’ve been away from your desk so long and didn’t even lock your computer, which I bet isn’t password-protected, right?"

"Password?" Emma looked around, somewhat unconcerned. "It’s just colleagues around here, and besides, I don’t really have any secrets on this computer."

Amelia sighed in exasperation, looking skyward before focusing back on Emma, "Everything you’re working on is a trade secret. How do you know others aren’t coveting your work?"