Trapped in the boss's embrace (by Katrina A) novel Chapter 126

Chapter 126 What a Coincidence

"Ahh—!"

The sudden scare hit like a viral jump-scare—zero warning. Beatrice and the crew shrieked, stumbling back in panic.

Who wouldn't freak out?!

A massive, snarling dog lunged at them like it was auditioning for Cujo—one wrong move, and you were either dead or limping for life.

Even Theodore, the jacked track star, nearly sent Violet flying into the river in his scramble to escape.

Thankfully, Beatrice yanked her back. Spotting a gnarled tree nearby, she hauled Violet up like they were contestants on Survivor. Meanwhile, Theodore and Nico dove under the riverbank like it was a WW1 trench.

Total. Freaking. Chaos.

"Yo, chill out!" Ethan yelled.

But it was too late—they were already in full panic mode, zero chance of reasoning with them.

From her shaky perch, Beatrice saw Ethan standing there, completely unfazed, as the rabid-looking mutt bared its fangs.

"Ethan! Run, you idiot!" Her voice cracked, half-shriek, half-desperate plea, as she clung to the tree for dear life.

"Relax, it's not gonna bite me," Ethan said, sounding more amused than concerned.

He turned to the dog, still barking like its life depended on it. "Alright, Sugar, knock it off."

Sugar didn't care. If anything, it barked louder, drool dripping like it was sizing them up for dinner.

Ethan gave it a gentle nudge with his foot, then lovingly patted its head. "Keep yapping, and I'll turn you into a eunuch before you can blink."

"Woof... whine..."

The dog let out a pitiful whimper, deflated, and plopped down at his feet.

Ethan smirked, crouching to scratch behind its ears. "Good boy."

The tree-huggers and river rats gaped.

He calls this monster Sugar?

And he just... threatened it?

And it actually listened?!

Violet, still trembling, pointed at the beast. "That... that thing yours?"

Beatrice cut in, "Ethan came with us, remember? He didn't bring a freaking attack dog."

Violet blinked. "Then why's it obeying him? Is it scared of losing its... y'know?"

Beatrice just stared, speechless.

Taming a dog with threats? That makes as much sense as a TikTok conspiracy theory.

Ethan waved at the group. "Alright, drama's over. Either climb down or stay up there—your call."

Nobody moved.

What if Sugar only listened to Ethan?

They weren't about to test their luck with a hands-on demonstration.

One wrong move, and Sugar might decide their throats looked chewable.

The commotion drew a crowd—neighbors, passersby, even some nosy folks from across the river, all staring like they'd just missed the main event.

Beatrice cringed. 

If the dog doesn't kill me, this social disaster will.

But if she thought clinging to a tree while being gawked at was peak humiliation, she was dead wrong—fate had a nastier "hold my beer" moment in store.

The dog's owners finally showed up—three guys, footsteps crunching closer.

Beatrice, still locked in a stare-down with Sugar, barely glanced up—then froze.

Her brain short-circuited.

Wait... who the hell is that?

Heart pounding, she stole another look—and went completely still.

Clutching the tree, her face went blank.

Is Sugar's scare messing with my head?

Or is this some adrenaline-fueled comic book moment where Superman swoops in to save me?

Lost in her meltdown, a dazed voice floated up from below.

"Beatie... you seeing this?"

"Yup."

"Real?"

"Dunno—where's the cape and tights? Not exactly Superman material."

He didn't even glance back. "Jump. It's three feet."

Violet snorted at his brutality.

Ethan jogged over. "Violet, just hop. I'll catch you."

Meanwhile, Killian hauled Theodore and Nico out of the riverbank sludge.

Beatrice splashed her face under the outdoor faucet. At this point, her dignity was long gone.

"So... my tree pose was at least kinda graceful, right?" she asked Killian, clinging to one last shred of hope as he handed her a towel.

"Uh... sure. It was..." He hesitated, scrambling for diplomacy. "Cute?"

Beatrice flatlined.

RIP my soul.

Near the house, Violet—stress-eating like a champ—was already demolishing a peach offered by the homeowner.

Damian, arms crossed, eyed the group. "So. What brings you out here?"

Violet, ever unbothered, took the lead. "Just a little city-escape picnic. You? This place doesn't exactly scream you."

"Visiting a friend," he said smoothly.

"Ohhh, what a coincidence running into you," she replied, all faux innocence. 

We're not spilling the real tea.

Over by the crate, Ethan was forcing Theodore's trembling hand to pat Sugar's head—the guy looked ready to sob.

Nico tugged Violet's sleeve. "Let's bail to my uncle's place."

"Bet. Let's roll," she agreed, hopping up.

Beatrice was fully prepared to ghost without another word to Damian—Violet had the exit covered. But of course, Mr. Formality himself had to have the last word.

He caught her under the shade of an oak, voice low. "Suburbs are chill. But watch out for ticks. And raccoons. They're vicious."

"Got it, Mr. Crowley," she muttered, nodding stiffly.

His voice—smooth, warm, laced with that stupid, knowing amusement—drifted over her, mingling with the peach-scented breeze.

It was like gulping fizzy peach soda on a summer day, all sparkling sweetness and sharp bubbles.

And damn it, her heart fizzed right along with it.