Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 44: Guilty Conscience

Chapter 44: Guilty Conscience

The chauffeur drove up in a sleek black Bugatti, stepped out, and opened the door for Damien, who gracefully got into the car.

As the vehicle sped away, Damien closed his eyes, taking a moment to rest.

The day’s work had left him exhausted, and the thought of returning to the villa unexpectedly brought a sense of tranquility.

Back at the villa, Emma Hart paced the living room, her expression uneasy.

She worried whether the morning’s incident might have aroused Damien’s suspicions.

If he did suspect something, how would she explain?

Mrs. Harris, observing Emma’s agitated state, voiced her concern, "Miss Emma, are you feeling alright?"

"I’m... fine."

Suddenly, there were sounds from outside – he was back!

Emma frantically picked up a glass from the table, then put it down, pacing back and forth before finally settling on the sofa, only to pick up the glass again in a restless manner.

She reassured herself, ’Act normal, just like any other day...’

Damien Sterling entered the living room with long strides, heading straight towards Emma.

It was unusual for him; he typically went directly upstairs. Did he sense something was amiss?

Emma couldn’t bring herself to look at Damien, unsure of what to do.

"For you," Damien suddenly presented a bottle of lotion.

Emma, taken aback, eyed the attractive pink bottle, "What... what is this?"

"It’s a special moisturizer for pregnant women," Damien said, his eyes shifting subtly.

Taking it, Emma replied, "Oh, thank you."

Damien’s gaze fell on the glass in Emma’s hand, observing her awkwardly holding both the glass and the moisturizer.

His voice deep and questioning, "What are you drinking?"

Emma, startled, replied, "Ah? What?"

"The glass."

After his question, Damien turned emotionlessly and walked upstairs.

Emma Hart watched Damien Sterling’s cold silhouette recede, his icy aura making the air in the living room seemingly freeze in an instant.

Was he suspecting something, or was it just her own guilt making her paranoid?

Looking down at her empty glass, her thoughts were interrupted.

Mrs. Harris had prepared the meal, and Damien emerged from his room, now dressed in light mocha casual wear.

Emma gazed at him from the dining table, noting how the soft color and his relaxed hair softened his usually sharp and indifferent demeanor.

Yet, that enigmatic expression lingered on his face – some traits are indeed hard to change.

Emma diverted her gaze from Damien, fearing he might misinterpret her attention as infatuation.

After dinner, Damien had already retreated to his room, his work never ceasing, even outside the office.

Emma remained in the living room, reluctant to retire to her own space.

"Miss Emma, why haven’t you gone to your room yet?" Mrs. Harris inquired.

Emma, with a feigned casualness, picked up a magazine and flipped through it. "Oh, I’m not quite sleepy yet."

But inside, she was unsure if Damien had grown suspicious of her.

She feared that the closer she got to him, the more likely he would spot her flaws.

"Mrs. Harris, did he ask you anything when he came back?" Emma inquired cautiously.

Mrs. Harris, looking puzzled, shook her head. "He didn’t ask anything."

As Mrs. Harris spoke, her phone rang, a message lighting up her face, "Miss Emma, I need to take this call from my son. I’ll be right back."

Emma Hart nodded, aware that Mrs. Harris had a son who had just been admitted to college, supporting two children’s education single-handedly.

The old clock in the living room chimed, indicating it was nearly ten o’clock.

Suddenly, Emma looked up and saw Damien Sterling standing on the staircase, statue-like, his usual indifferent gaze fixed on her.

Startled, Emma shivered involuntarily, her breathing becoming shallow.

Damien’s voice, cold as ever, broke the silence, "You should sleep; the baby needs to rest."

His tone was devoid of concern, sounding more like a command, a warning.

Emma knew that any further prompting from him would not bode well for her.

Reluctantly, she hastened upstairs.

Her hurried steps on the staircase elicited a stern warning from Damien, "Slow down!"

Emma’s pace slowed; the stairs weren’t the danger – it was Damien’s voice that frightened both her and the baby in her womb.

In the bedroom, Damien sat back at his desk, apparently having come down specifically to send her to bed.

Emma lay straight on the bed.

Damien, who had just been flipping through documents, paused, his expression darkening, brows furrowing, "Take a bath."

"I today..."

"Take a bath, now!" Damien repeated.

With a pout and a sigh of resignation, Emma got out from under the covers.

She had begun to understand his rules, like how he disliked repeating himself.

A sense of unease had plagued Emma all day, and now she desperately needed to unwind.

In the bathroom, clear water cascaded from the large showerhead, quickly filling the room with steam.

Emma always let the water run for a while before showering because... the bathroom glass was transparent, and Damien was in the same room.

Unbeknownst to Emma Hart, the clear sound of cascading water was distracting Damien Sterling from his work.

Her graceful figure, partially obscured by the steamy glass, cast a tantalizing silhouette that only added to the allure, unsettling Damien even more.

Exiting the bathroom, Emma clutched a white towel around her chest, droplets of water trickling down her hair and falling onto the plush carpet.

Her bare feet pressed against the soft fabric...

Those feet... Startled, Emma looked up to meet Damien’s icy stare, recognizing the dangerous desire he was struggling to contain.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

In response, Damien reached out and yanked away her towel.

His strength, combined with Emma’s slight frame, caused her to spin, winding up directly in his embrace.

Annoyed, Emma glared at Damien.

What was he up to now?

Damien’s eyes flashed, keenly observing Emma’s unblemished back – no sign of the rash she claimed.

She had lied.

Embarrassed and exposed before Damien, Emma bit her lip and snatched the towel back, hurriedly covering herself.

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