Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 58: Always in His Arms

Chapter 58: Always in His Arms

"Are you done?" Emma asked impatiently, disliking the lustful look in Damien’s eyes.

"Don’t move!" Damien instructed, applying the last bit of ointment to her neck, but Emma felt he was doing it deliberately and twisted her neck in irritation.

"Didn’t you hear me?" Damien glared at Emma.

What was he planning to do now? Strangle her again?

Defiantly, Emma continued to twist her neck.

"Emma Hart!" Damien’s final warning.

Looking at the defiance in Emma’s eyes, it was as if she was determined to challenge him to the end.

The clarity of right and wrong in her gaze was so transparent, so lucid, and it was this clarity that he found so enthralling.

Without warning, Damien’s kiss forcefully claimed Emma Hart’s lips.

The showerhead in the bathroom was turned on, releasing a cascade of water that filled the room with a soothing "whoosh" sound.

The impeccable voice of Damien Sterling was somehow highlighted against this backdrop.

Finding the water not cold enough, he adjusted it several times before resigning to turning it to the coldest setting.

Damn it, he thought, never before had a woman ignited such a fire within him.

Just a slight lean towards her lips had sent a stirring sensation through his lower abdomen.

He quickly rolled off her, knowing well that if he stayed any longer, he couldn’t predict what would happen next.

Damien Sterling was never one to be easily controlled, especially when it came to his desires, which he usually saw no need to restrain.

But in her case, he found himself preferring a cold shower, letting the bone-chilling water suppress the heat that consumed his body.

Emma Hart had thought that after their encounter, Damien Sterling would impose restrictions on her freedom.

Surprisingly, he showed no such intentions, which brought her a significant sense of relief.

Having finally gained her freedom, the last place Emma wanted to be was confined in that cage-like villa.

Nor did she wish to frequently visit her old home where her grandmother would incessantly nag her about various matters.

Emma made sure to venture out appropriately and return to her gilded cage on time.

Meanwhile, in Damien Sterling’s office, his cellphone rang.

Busy with his tasks, Damien glanced at it briefly before answering.

"Mr. Sterling, Miss Emma hasn’t shown any unusual behavior recently."

"Apart from her daily strolls through the shops or the garden, there’s nothing much to report."

"Over the past three days, she’s only been home once, and that was for less than half an hour," reported the voice on the other end.

"Is that all?" Damien asked, his brow furrowed in thought.

The caller affirmed confidently, "That’s all."

"Alright, I’m informed," Damien responded.

Elsewhere, Emma Hart’s phone rang. It was Mrs. Harris on the line.

"Hello? Miss Emma, Mr. Sterling mentioned he’d be home early for dinner tonight. Where are you? Let me come to you. He’s quite fond of a particular shop’s durian pastries. I’ll buy some for him."

"Durian pastries?" Emma glanced back at the long queue behind her, "Is it the shop on Financial Street?"

"Yes, exactly that one."

"Then I’ll pick them up; I’m not busy, and I’m right next to the shop anyway."" Emma responded, ending the call and making her way to the back of the long line.

After all, she had nothing else pressing to attend to.

She found it amusing that this man shared her taste for durian, a small yet curious similarity between them.

Dark clouds densely packed the sky, and Emma Hart looked up, feeling a sense of oppression that eerily mirrored the temperament of a man in a rage.

Clutching the durian pastries, she walked along the street, not realizing how late it had gotten.

She had intended to call home, but as fate would have it, her phone was out of battery.

Fine droplets of rain began to descend from the sky, prompting Emma to seek refuge in a nearby storefront, sheltering under the awning.

The rain in this place always seemed to fall with such urgency, quickly transforming into a downpour as if the heavens were weeping bitterly.

The storm intensified, thunder rumbling and lightning flashing, as people rushed by with their umbrellas.

There, huddled against the storefront’s roller shutter, each thunderclap sent shivers down Emma’s spine.

She had always been terrified of thunder; as a child, her mother would comfort her and cover her ears during storms.

But now grown up, who was there to offer her such solace?

The relentless rain showed no signs of stopping.

Her phone was dead, and not a single store was open as far as the eye could see.

Passersby were too hurried to ask for help, and the thunder grew louder.

Emma, who had dressed lightly, not anticipating the rain, was now shivering from the cold.

When would this rain ever cease?

Cars sped by, heedless of those on the sidewalk, and one vehicle splashed water all over Emma.

"Hey! Watch how you’re driving!" she exclaimed, staring at her drenched self.

As if her troubles weren’t enough, now soaked and already carrying a child, she felt an added heaviness in her waist.

In the distance, the headlights of a black car flickered as it approached.

Emma thought of stepping aside to avoid another drenching.

But as the bright lights shone on her, she felt a sudden dizziness, a sense of instability.

Leaning against the wall for support, her hand steadied her trembling frame.

To her surprise, the black car stopped, and the man inside stepped out onto the curb.

His assistant hurriedly opened an umbrella to shield the man’s head from the rain.

As the man approached, Emma’s vision blurred even more.

But that silhouette, it bore an uncanny resemblance to Damien Sterling.

As the figure approached, her body involuntarily leaned forward.

"Emma Hart!" The voice that called out to her amidst the storm was unmistakably Damien Sterling’s.

Emma Hart found herself enveloped in the embrace of Damien Sterling, who carefully took the durian pastries from her hands.

A flicker of perplexity and concern deepened the furrows between Damien’s brows. "You braved this weather just for these?" he questioned.

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