Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 189: Picking Her Up

Chapter 189: Picking Her Up

In the darkness of the night, disdain wrapped around the man’s handsome features as intermittent stars cast a dim light, flickering now bright, now shadowed. The man’s brows were knotted in frustration, deeply inhaling the smoke, yet unable to ease the tension in his forehead.

The driver, sitting upright at the wheel, dared not utter a word. It had been ten minutes since they returned, with Damien Sterling chain-smoking one cigarette after another.

"Why hasn’t she returned yet?" Damien asked, irritation lacing his voice as he tapped the cigarette in his hand, directing his impatience towards the driver in front.

Glancing at his watch, the driver replied cautiously, "Though it’s a short drive from where we were, walking would take at least thirty minutes." After speaking, he kept a wary eye on Damien through the rearview mirror, anxious not to upset him further.

Damien’s gaze drifted to the road in front of the mansion. "Why are the streetlights off?" He couldn’t understand why he felt so agitated tonight, as if everything around him was irksome.

The driver noted that it wasn’t that there were no streetlights, but after ten o’clock, they operated intermittently. "Mr. Sterling, actually..."

But Damien wasn’t listening. Before the driver could finish, Damien curtly interrupted, "Get someone to turn on all the lights!" The driver hurriedly left the car to carry out Damien’s orders, sensing his mood was foul tonight.

Losing interest in his cigarette, Damien’s slender fingers were about to bring it to his lips when he thought of her, possibly still walking on the road. Though she could move freely, her clothes were somewhat tattered, which only added to his irritation.

With a rough flick, Damien discarded the cigarette, his fingers dipping into his pocket. Even in the pitch darkness, his dark eyes seemed to glow. Glancing at the screen, the absence of any calls darkened his mood further. "Such a strong woman," he thought.

Tapping his fingers on the leather seat inside the car, Damien reached for another cigarette from the pack, intending to light it but then, resignedly, put it down. Even this addictive habit had lost its appeal to him.

The image of her lingered in his mind, refusing to fade.

At this moment, Emma Hart, still a good twenty minutes away from the villa, stumbled forward. The place was so deserted it felt like a no-man’s land; half a day had gone by without the sight of a single passing car. Damien Sterling’s quest for solitude really was remarkable—it was the epitome of seclusion.

Utterly deserted.

Clutching her dress, Emma found her outfit too form-fitting for comfort, making her hesitant to even breathe deeply for fear the seam on her back might also tear. The large tear on her leg had already left her feeling cold, and her shoes were unbearably uncomfortable.

Looking ahead, the road seemed endless, and Emma was visibly frustrated, regretting her earlier prideful altercation with Damien Sterling. No sooner had this thought surfaced than she scolded herself internally a hundred times over. Was Emma Hart to be easily defeated by such minor adversities? It was just a short walk; she shouldn’t let that man get the better of her so easily.

Deciding to take action, Emma removed her high heels and carried them in her hand, continuing her journey barefoot.

At the villa’s entrance, Damien Sterling was about to alight from his car when his driver quickly got out to open the door for him. Once Damien had stepped out, the driver turned to park the car in the garage.

Suddenly, Damien stopped in his tracks and spun around, startling the driver who quickly removed his hand from the car door and looked at Damien, puzzled and stuttering, "Mr... Sterling, sir... What’s wrong?"

Damien glanced at the driver, his lips moving slightly before he turned away, his voice carrying back, "Go pick her up!"

"Pick up who?" the driver blinked in confusion, looking up at Damien. Seeing a sudden intensity in Damien’s eyes, the driver quickly understood, "Yes, Mr. Sterling, right away." The driver hurried into the car, but Damien called out to him, "Don’t say it was me who sent you."

Damien’s instructions, though he felt somewhat undignified giving them, marked a new beginning for him.

Not only was Damien surprised at his own actions, but the driver was equally taken aback, having never seen Damien Sterling show such consideration for any woman before.

Twenty minutes had passed.

The driver, following Damien Sterling’s instructions as if by coincidence, picked up Emma Hart, who was resting by the roadside.

Seated in the back of the car, the warmth of the heater enveloped Emma, making her feel cozy as the car moved smoothly. Emma wanted to ask something, her curiosity piqued by the serendipity of the encounter—was it merely a coincidence, or was the car sent by that man? Yet, she hesitated, wondering if such a question might seem too self-centered.

Standing at the doorstep, Emma was unsure whether to enter. Where else could she go if not here? And if that man refused to let her be, fleeing to the ends of the earth would be in vain.

Mrs. Harris appeared at the door, walking towards Emma with a long coat in hand. She draped it over Emma, urging, "Emma, come inside."

"Where is he?" Emma asked, wrapping the coat tighter around herself.

"He’s already left," Mrs. Harris responded.

"Left?" Emma frowned, puzzled. Shouldn’t that man have stayed to settle their score? His absence only fueled Emma’s apprehension.

Entering the villa, wrapped in the coat, Emma hurriedly reached for her phone. If that man didn’t clarify things, what other means would he resort to? Beyond her family, Emma couldn’t think of any. Her phone, however, was out of battery. Frantically searching for a charger in the living room, Emma turned to Mrs. Harris with urgency, "What did he say when he left?"

After a moment’s thought, Mrs. Harris said, "He asked me to make some ginger soup." She then fell silent, knowing well that Damien had explicitly instructed her not to mention the soup was prepared at his behest.

Caught in an awkward moment, Mrs. Harris offered Emma a tentative look, adding, "That’s all... nothing more."

"Nothing more?" Emma murmured, her eyes darting around restlessly as she twirled the charger’s cord around her finger. The fact that nothing was said, yet ginger soup was prepared, puzzled her. What game was this?

"Ah-choo!"—Could someone be talking about her, or perhaps missing her?

As soon as her phone had enough power to turn on, Emma saw several missed calls—all from Damien Sterling. He had called her multiple times.

About to press her mother’s number to inquire if anything was amiss, the sight of those missed calls made Emma’s finger hesitate, then retreat from the screen. Could he truly be capable of such actions?

With a sigh, Emma set the phone aside.