Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 98: A Dark Expression

Chapter 98: A Dark Expression

Damian Sterling paused for a moment, wishing she would ask him for things more smoothly; he’d prefer that.

"Alright, meet me at the entrance later. I’ll take you out to eat."

"To eat?"

"What’s the matter?"

"I..." Emma Hart struggled to find the words, looking for an excuse, but Damian had already grown impatient, "Cancel whatever it is, wait for me."

Buzz...

The call ended.

Emma stared at the now grayed-out name on her screen, reflecting on how Damian was consistently self-directed, hanging up without ensuring his message was fully understood.

Indeed, always the same...

Turning around, she saw Oliver Westmore waiting, showing no sign of impatience. Emma marveled at how two equally handsome men could be so different.

Damian’s directive echoed in her ears.

Embarrassed, Emma approached Oliver, "I’m sorry, something came up. Can I take you out some other time?"

"Oh..." Oliver’s brow furrowed slightly, "Then, how will you make it up to me for standing me up?"

"Marry you?" Emma recalled his earlier jest, smiling. For some reason, Oliver’s presence had a comforting glow about it, making even a joke like this feel natural, as if they were old friends.

"Sure, I accept," Oliver continued, "How about you add another meal and make it two?"

Emma agreed readily, "No problem, even three."

"Then it’s settled! Do you need a ride?"

Emma hesitated, and Oliver, glancing at his watch and with an apologetic tone, added, "Actually, today might not work. Let’s plan for another day."

Emma nodded quickly, relieved. She had worried that Damian seeing her with an overly enthusiastic Oliver might complicate things.

Fortunately, Oliver had other commitments, but then she remembered they had plans to dine together, and Oliver had seemed free.

In a moment, she realized his considerate nature, not wanting to put her in an awkward position.

Downstairs, Damian Sterling’s conspicuous car was already parked, a sight Emma Hart had grown accustomed to.

Each time, she’d hurry into the vehicle, minimizing the chance for gossip.

As Emma slid into the car, Damian was preoccupied with his phone.

"You don’t need to go out of your way to have dinner with me, especially with your busy schedule," Emma said, her tone diplomatic—a skill she’d honed from spending so much time around Damian.

It wasn’t that she was concerned about him neglecting work; she simply preferred to avoid his company.

"That’s none of your concern," came Damian’s curt reply.

Emma glanced at his stoic face and decided against further conversation.

She didn’t bother asking where they were dining or what they’d eat, knowing well that Damian had his plans and rarely heeded others’ suggestions.

As expected, the bright blue Bugatti stopped in front of a newly opened Japanese restaurant.

Damian stepped out first, with Emma following, feeling more like an attendant than a companion.

The staff, upon noticing Damian’s arrival, scrambled to inform the manager, "Mr. Sterling is here, please come this way, right this way."

A younger waiter noted, "But the private room is already booked, and they’re about to arrive."

The manager shot the waiter a stern look, "Who could be more important than Mr. Sterling? We’ll rearrange that table. Enough, let’s proceed."

With a forced smile towards Damian, the manager apologized for the inconvenience caused by the inexperienced staff, though Damian paid him no heed.

Emma, trailing behind, sensed the palpable awkwardness. The manager’s obsequiousness, while she followed in silence, wasn’t to her liking.

The interior of the room they entered was distinctly more upscale than the rest of the restaurant, from the décor to the accessories, befitting a VIP suite.

The manager stood respectfully to one side, casting a glance at Emma Hart before turning his attention to Damian Sterling.

Even though Damian didn’t look up, the manager maintained a smile, "Mr. Sterling, shall we proceed with the usual standards?"

Damian’s silence served as confirmation.

The manager, wearing a smug expression, began to detail Damian Sterling’s usual preferences.

"Mr. Sterling, the sashimi you enjoy is flown in fresh this morning, along with tonkotsu ramen and eel rice. Even the wasabi is handmade to ensure all ingredients are fresh and healthy..."

Just as the manager continued his enthusiastic spiel, believing his attentiveness to Damian’s tastes would earn approval, Damian abruptly looked up.

The manager, interpreting this as a sign of acknowledgment, was about to bask in expected praise.

"I’m hungry."

Emma almost laughed out loud at this blunt interruption.

Such disregard for the manager’s efforts was typical of Damian, whose lack of concern for others’ feelings was strikingly evident.

Yet, if he were any different, he wouldn’t be Damian Sterling.

Comparing him to Oliver Westmore, Emma couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between them as she looked again at Damian’s indifferent expression.

"Can’t you be a bit nicer to people?" Emma regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth, realizing the audacity of her challenge.

She quickly lowered her head, feeling as though she was provoking him again.

Damian maintained his icy demeanor, his aristocratic brows twitching slightly, a sign of his untamed spirit. "I don’t have time for that."

"But that’s just basic politeness," Emma couldn’t help but retort, momentarily forgetting her place.

Damian’s expression darkened, unused to being contradicted. He was accustomed to absolute obedience, his word final, his rule supreme.

Pausing his actions, Damian fixed Emma with a deep, penetrating stare.

Emma, feeling the intensity of his gaze, quickly averted her eyes, acknowledging the discomfort of meeting his look directly.

Seeing Emma lower her gaze, Damian resumed his activity, and after a moment, coldly stated, "Others being polite to me is sufficient."

True to his domineering nature, he embodied the solitary grandeur of a sovereign.

Emma inwardly scoffed at his arrogance, daring not to show her disdain.

The conversation was quickly overshadowed by the arrival of dishes, as the manager politely knocked and entered the room with the same professional smile.

After serving the food, the manager quietly left.

Soon after, a commotion arose nearby.

A sharp voice complained, "I just called to make a reservation. How can you just give it away to someone else? What, is our membership not high enough for the VIP room?"

Likely another instance of someone wielding their wealth.

Emma glanced at Damian, knowing the upcoming scene would likely end with the manager appeasing the disgruntled patron or merely mentioning Damian’s name to ensure compliance.

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