Trapped in the boss's embrace (by Katrina A) novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97 Burn the Bridge

Beatrice forced a smile that looked worse than a sob.

Who'd even want to join a competition like that?

"Can't I just sign up for something decent for once..." she muttered, tilting her head up, her voice as thin as a thread.

"Of course," Damian replied with a reassuring nod. His smile was gentle, his eyes gleaming with a light that seemed to carry the sparkle of stars. His voice was deep, warm, and as sweet as fine wine. "You can do anything you want."

Beatrice had managed to hold herself together until now. She hated turning into a sniffling mess for others to gawk at. But in that moment, something shifted. She felt like she could let go, be selfish, be fragile, be indulged. A warm, bittersweet feeling spread from deep within her, melting the brittle wall she'd built to keep herself upright.

Tears clouded her vision until the world blurred into a haze.

She let go of all her strength, no longer fearing that she might stumble and fall, and she wasn't afraid of suddenly stepping into a void and plunging off a cliff.

She leaned against him, silently unleashing the turmoil within, letting it all pour out without restraint.

Damian, understanding her pride, took off his suit jacket and gently draped it over her head, shielding her as he led her out of the restaurant.

In the car, she continued to sob silently, her shoulders trembling with the aftermath of her emotions.

Emotions were like that. Either they were suppressed, or once released, they didn't subside easily. They were like tides, raging when they came, and only after running their course could they bring calm to the shore.

Time passed without her noticing.

Eventually, Beatrice calmed down.

The storm had passed, leaving her heart lighter, the air around her hushed. She realized she was still in the car, clinging to...

Wait, clinging?

In that instant, her mind snapped into full clarity.

Her gaze shifted, and she realized her arms were wrapped around his waist, her face resting against his chest.

It was just like how she cuddled with the pillow every night when she went to bed. The motion was so natural, the action so bold, and the result so problematic.

Her mind raced. Options? She could either pull away and pretend nothing happened, or fake being asleep until he woke her. The second option seemed safer—after all, he hadn't mentioned anything when she'd dozed off on him during that business trip...

Just as she was trying to figure out how to make the situation less awkward, a voice came from above her head.

"Stop thinking so much," he said, gently patting her head. "We'll be here all day at this rate. Let's get food first—you can cuddle me again later."

Beatrice's eyes went wide, and her body stiffened from head to toe.

Then, with a quiet crack, her composure shattered in an instant, crumbling within her.

Five minutes later, she found herself sitting at the table in a restaurant.

The place was a courtyard-style private dining spot, serene and refined, so quiet she could hear the soft trickle of the man-made stream outside.

Damian was across from her, ordering food.

On the surface, she sat perfectly composed, blending into the tranquil scene like a picture of peace, but deep down, her mind was a whirlwind of chaos.

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?

This is so awkward! Ahh!

I shouldn't have leaned into his arms! I shouldn't have hugged him!

"Prawns?" Damian asked casually, breaking her spiraling thoughts.

"Yeah," she stammered, her heart skipping a beat as she scrambled to answer.

"How about dessert?" he asked. "Would you prefer a rose-flavored cake, or avocado?"

"Both..."

"Both?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well..." She had meant to say either was fine, but since he said so, she resigned herself to agreeing. "Mm, yes."

At last, he ordered six dishes in total.

Once he was done, he looked up at her.

Beatrice grabbed her water, taking tiny sips while pretending to admire the view. But her nerves betrayed her—her teeth kept clicking against the glass.

"That glass..."

Damian's voice broke through the silence.

She glanced at the glass, puzzled. "Huh? What's wrong with the glass?"

"It's not edible," he said seriously.

His tone and expression were like a parent trying to stop a toddler from putting rocks in their mouth.

Beatrice was at a loss for words, staring at the glass in her hand, so embarrassed that she felt like her soul was about to escape her body.

Thankfully, the food arrived fairly quickly.

Without missing a beat, she buried her head in her food.

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