Trapped in the boss's embrace (by Katrina A) novel Chapter 135

Chapter 135 The Alcohol Is Kicking In

Beatrice just stood there, eyes glued to the open bag, and her breath hitched like a hiccup.

Her eyes were dancing with panic.

Holy moly! What the heck are these ultra-thin, ribbed, strawberry-flavored condoms?!

It was like time hit reverse as the memory of herself in a total tizzy flashed through her mind. She'd been on the phone, snatching stuff off the shelves left and right.

She'd chucked all sorts of things into her basket, paid up at the counter, and then hightailed it back to the lakeside with the bag.

If only I'd taken a second to check what I was grabbing... Oh crap, crap, crap!

"This, this, this... I-I got the wrong stuff," she stammered, her voice as weak as a kitten's meow.

Beatrice bent down in a hurry to shove those boxes deeper into the bag and quickly tied it up.

"Got the wrong stuff?" Damian arched an eyebrow, his face screaming disbelief. "More than once?"

Beatrice felt like she could just jump into the lake and disappear. "Uh... it was a real mess at the time."

"Mess, huh? Did the convenience store turn into a blind-pick game or something?"

Beatrice felt like she was backed into a corner. "I was on the phone, okay! I wasn't paying attention to what I was grabbing. I just, you know, picked stuff at random."

"Ah, so you went to the convenience store just to make a phone call?" Damian exclaimed.

But then his eyes turned as cold as ice. "Who was on the other end of the line that had you so zoned out?"

Beatrice felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. "Violet."

Damian let out a chuckle.

Then he turned his body and stared off at the twinkling lights along the shore in the distance.

The silence between them felt like a cool mist.

Beatrice plopped down beside him.

Fine, he's upset.

Alright, I'll fess up. I made that call just to steer clear of him.

And the icing on the cake? He found out because of this darn bag of condoms.

After a while, she put on a nonchalant act. "Mr. Crowley, want some snacks? I got chocolate."

Damian gave her a cold look. "You mean the one that was right next to those strawberry-flavored condoms?"

Beatrice felt her cheeks go hot.

Can we just drop it?

She was desperate for a change of subject. "How about a drink? I got a bunch of different kinds, even bottled water."

"Aw, weren't you just the sweetest to get me some wine? I was starting to think I'd miss out on that Patrón from Mr. Belmont, and here you are, making it up to me," Damian said, his words laced with sarcasm, playfully jabbing at her.

Fuming, she rummaged through the bag, pulled out a bottle of wine, popped the cap off, and thrust it at him. "Fine, yeah! I'm making it up to you, so chug it down."

Damian winced at the strong scent of the alcohol. "Ms. Lawson, how does poisoning me benefit you?"

Beatrice rolled her eyes.

As if it would kill you!

Determined to make her point, she took a big swig, intending to toss it back at him and say, "It's fine. See? Not poisonous." But as the liquid burned its way down her throat, she gasped.

Whoa! That packs a punch!

Beatrice considered herself to have a decent tolerance, having sipped strong liquor at dinners before, but nothing prepared her for this fiery encounter.

Coughing, she covered her mouth.

With a gentle hand, Damian patted her back. "You shouldn't have chugged it. You alright?"

Beatrice waved him off, insisting she was fine. "I tried it for you. This wine… never mind. You might want to skip it; it's kind of harsh on the throat."

Wouldn't want to mess up that precious body of yours, huh?

I bet your parents would hang me at the company's gate if anything happened to you.

Damian suddenly laughed. "Well, that shows you have a bit of conscience."

He reached across and grabbed the odd assortment of items from her bag.

"What are you doing?!" Beatrice lunged to snatch it back, her nerves fraying as if he had just taken her gold.

"Relax, I'm just gonna grab you some water to swish your mouth with," Damian said in a calm tone.

"I can handle it myself!"

Beatrice clutched the bag tight, tying a couple of knots to make sure it was secure, and then quickly stashed it by her feet.

Damian raised an eyebrow, finding it amusing.

Off in the distance, a figure was making its way along the lakeshore.

There, they hopped into a small wooden boat tied up near the shore.

The boat was covered with a light-blue sheer fabric that fluttered gently in the evening breeze.

During the day, it must've been tied back, but now it just swayed freely, looking like it was dancing in the wind.

As soon as Beatrice plopped down, she leaned over, feeling a bit woozy.

"So, what's your take on this place?" Damian asked as he settled down beside her.

Damian's face fell.

The romantic vibe had just been killed by talk of ghosts.

"Mr. Crowley, don't you think this whole setup is kinda spooky? And this boat is rocking like crazy."

"Is it really?" he asked.

"Absolutely! It's making me feel sick to my stomach."

"No way! I only had a sip, and I can handle my liquor," Beatrice insisted.

Damian chuckled. "Alright, alright, Ms. Lawson, you're the best drinker. Must be some ghost messing with you from below."

As she leaned more against the railing, he worried she might fall overboard and instinctively pulled her back.

Beatrice had been feeling secure, but the sudden tug sent her right back into his arms.

Her cheek pressed against his chest, her heartbeat a wild drum in her ears.

Looking up, her head brushed his throat, and her gaze locked onto that tempting patch of skin she'd been dying to taste.

Before her brain could catch up, she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and nipped at his throat.

Damian stiffened up, his breath catching in his throat.

How did this shy woman turn into such a firecracker?

Lost in a haze, she let her hands roam freely, exploring every inch of him with growing boldness.

Suddenly, his fingers tangled in her hair, cupping the back of her neck.