Trapped in the boss's embrace (by Katrina A) novel Chapter 50

Chapter 50 She Overthought It

Beatrice’s cheeks flushed red.

She stammered, trying to explain, “Oh, I thought you meant… cleaning. I can’t move around easily right now, so I said I couldn’t do it.”

Damian remained silent.

Arms crossed, he leaned against the desk, giving her a look that said he saw right through her but wasn’t rushing to call her out.

After a moment, he suddenly chuckled, dragging out his words teasingly, “Ms. Lawson, you really think highly of yourself.”

Beatrice felt her face heat up instantly as if it were on fire.

Is he saying I overthought it? That he has no interest in me at all?

Her face burned even hotter, and she had no idea how to respond.

Awkwardly, she lowered her head and flipped open the folder in front of her, hastily changing the subject. “What do I need to do? I’ll get started right away.”

Damian didn’t dwell on the matter.

Chapter 50 She Overthought It

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He walked over, sat in the chair across from her, and gave her a few work–related instructions.

After that, he resumed his work.

The study fell into silence, with only the sound of pages turning.

For a whole hour, Beatrice kept her head down, completely focused, and so much so that she lost herself in the work.

Damian occasionally glanced at her, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Meanwhile, Gordon, who had been busy in the kitchen, stepped out at one point. Finding the place oddly empty, he was confused.

Why hasn’t Mr. Crowley come back?

It never occurred to him that Damian would bring Beatrice to work.

After all, she was still recovering from her injuries.

It wasn’t until he finished preparing dinner and set the table that he finally called Damian.

Five minutes later, Damian wheeled Beatrice out of the study.

She looked completely drained, dazed even as if she wanted to escape but didn’t dare to.

Chapter 50 She Overthought It

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When they reached the dining area, Gordon cheerfully pulled out a chair.

Damian pushed Beatrice over and bent down to lift her into the seat. But then he hesitated, tilting his head to ask, “If I carry you, you won’t overthink it, will you?”

His tone was serious, but there was a clear trace of amusement.

Beatrice was mortified.

Gordon, unaware of the underlying teasing, simply thought Damian was being excessively gentlemanly.

“I can just stay in the wheelchair,” Beatrice said with an awkward smile.

“Looks like you’re overthinking it again,” Damian said as he straightened up.

Beatrice screamed inside. NO!

Dinner was over–the–top lavish, and Gordon’s cooking was better than any pro chef’s.

She poured all her embarrassment into eating, slurping soup, and grabbing dishes like there was no tomorrow.

Damian barely got any meat before she snatched it.

Watching her eat with such gusto made Gordon incredibly satisfied.

For any cook, seeing someone enjoy their food was the best reward.

But Damian had never eaten with that kind of enthusiasm before.

“Is it really that good? Here, have another piece. You can have it all.”

Damian passed the last piece of meat to her.

Beatrice finally paused and looked up, meeting his amused gaze.

She suddenly realized she might have been too unrestrained.

Awkwardly, she slowed down her eating pace.

Gordon refilled her bowl with chicken soup.

As she thanked him, she didn’t hold back her praise. “Gordon, were you a chef before? Your cooking is amazing!”

Gordon grinned so widely that his face almost split.

Beatrice then asked him about the recipes.

The two chatted away, hitting it off immediately.

In the end, Gordon said, “If you like my cooking, just come over every day.”

For any cook, seeing someone enjoy their food was the best reward.

But Damian had never eaten with that kind of enthusiasm before.

“Is it really that good? Here, have another piece. You can have it all.”

Damian passed the last piece of meat to her.

Beatrice finally paused and looked up, meeting his amused gaze.

She suddenly realized she might have been too unrestrained.

Awkwardly, she slowed down her eating pace.

Gordon refilled her bowl with chicken soup.

As she thanked him, she didn’t hold back her praise. “Gordon, were you a chef before? Your cooking is amazing!”

Gordon grinned so widely that his face almost split.

Beatrice then asked him about the recipes.

The two chatted away, hitting it off immediately.

In the end, Gordon said, “If you like my cooking, just come over every day.”

Chapter 50 She Overthought

“Sure!” Beatrice agreed without thinking, then quickly realized

something was off and corrected herself. “Wait, I can’t come every day. That would be too much.”

Just as she finished speaking, a calm voice drifted over.

“No need to feel bad about it.”

Beatrice turned to look at Damian.

Hearing this, Gordon made a final decision. “Then it’s settled. From now on, I’ll cook extra.”

Beatrice was stunned.

She had only been making casual conversation, she didn’t expect things would turn into her dining here daily.

She felt like Damian’s words were actually a jab at how much she had

eaten.

After dinner, Beatrice wanted to leave immediately.

But remembering the unfinished work in the study, she hesitantly asked, “Mr. Crowley, can I take the work home to finish?”

Damian replied, “No need.”

What he meant was that she didn’t have to do it anymore. But to Beatrice, it sounded like, “You can’t leave until you finish.”

“Alright then…”

She maneuvered her wheelchair and headed back to the study.

Damian was momentarily taken aback before chuckling softly.

Yet, he didn’t stop her.

Beatrice worked in his study until she had completed all the tasks he had assigned her. By then, it was already ten at night.

She had eaten too much at dinner and had been resisting the urge to doze off.

Now that she was finally done, exhaustion hit her like a wave, making her eyelids droop.

“Mr. Crowley, I’m heading out,” she said, wheeling herself to the door and yawning.

In her sleepy state, she lost control for a second and bumped into the table.

Her knee hit the edge, pulling at her wound, jolting her wide awake.

Damian jumped up, noticing her pained look.

“Did you pull your wound?” he asked, crouching down and lifting her skirt to check.

If it reopened, he’d need to call a doctor.

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Beatrice took a deep breath. “It pulled a bit, but I don’t think it tore.”

Damian confirmed there was no bleeding, but his eyes lingered, moving from her wound to her smooth, fair legs.

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