Trapped in the boss's embrace (by Katrina A) novel Chapter 90

Chapter 90 Locking the Door

Damian stared at her, dumbfounded.

Finally, he arched an eyebrow. "Is this your way of getting revenge?"

"Of course not!"

Beatrice clutched her chest dramatically. "I'm trying to help you! Who else would haul ice cubes up all those stairs? Your professional secretary, that's who! I can't believe you'd doubt my good intentions, Mr. Crowley. I'm wounded!"

Her expression was exaggerated, as if she had suffered an enormous injustice.

Damian lifted his arms out of the water and rested them on the edge of the bathtub. "Then I am grateful to you for being so kind to me. Should I present you with an award for the Most Thoughtful Secretary of the Year?"

"If you do, I'll accept it."

Beatrice was composed.

Damian stared at her face and suddenly laughed out of anger.

He had been soaking for over an hour, and his handsome face had lost all its color from the cold. Meanwhile, his dear secretary "considerately" threw a few more ice cubes into the bathtub.

"I think I'm good now." He started to stand.

"Don't you dare!"

Beatrice rushed over and pushed him back down by his shoulders, her face dead serious. "Your opinion doesn't matter right now. That drug could kick back in any minute, and trust me, it'll hit twice as hard the second time around."

He leaned back in the bathtub with an expressionless face.

"Have you ever considered that this method might be completely ineffective?" His tone carried a barely noticeable hint of dissatisfaction.

"How could it be ineffective? Didn't you say you're feeling much better? This proves that the effect of the drug is gradually wearing off," Beatrice retorted. She even gently patted his shoulders as if to comfort him. "Mr. Crowley, hold on a little longer. Trust me. It will work."

She then straightened up and seemed to be smirking.

Just as Beatrice was about to step back, her wrist was suddenly grabbed. A powerful force pulled her down into the bathtub.

Startled by the sudden impact and the ice water, she couldn't help but let out a scream. "What are you doing? It's so cold!"

She struggled to climb out.

Under the water, Damian's large hands clasped around her waist. "So you are aware of how cold it is, aren't you?"

Beatrice's teeth were chattering from the chill. In frustration, she tried to push his hands away. "Why did you pull me in? Release me! Let me out!"

He asked, "Is it really that cold?"

Beatrice shouted, "Of course it is! This is ice water!"

She was eager to get out!

Damian slightly tightened his grip on her waist and drew her nearer. "But do you think I'm cold?"

Beatrice fell silent.

She ceased her struggling, glanced around, and then gazed at Damian. "Our situations are different. You were drugged, and you need the ice to bring down the heat. I don't think you can feel the cold.

"But if you really can't stand the ice water, Mr. Crowley, get up.

"Anyway, I'm doing this for your own good. You won't be so unreasonable as to vent your anger on me, right?"

Damian sneered but said nothing.

He fixed his deep eyes on her quietly.

Beatrice felt a shiver down her spine.

The chill seemed to intensify within her.

Beneath the water, a sudden cramp seized her leg, and the sharp pain compelled her to alter her position. She transitioned from sitting sideways to straddling, inadvertently bringing their faces directly in front of each other.

Damian was slightly taken aback.

Beatrice was embarrassed.

She tried to break free from his grip. "I want to get out!"

His hold on her waist tightened, as if he intended to crush her waist. The warmth from his palm penetrated her skin despite the icy water. His face inched even nearer. "I believe you're correct. I'll endure a bit longer, and you should keep me company."

Beatrice couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Her heart was pounding.

Damian lost his rationality again.

They were pressed together, not an inch between them, the tension crackling like a live wire. Every breath, every slight shift felt magnified. And of course she could feel his hardness, every inch of it.

Beatrice leaned against the bathtub, her face flushed.

She closed her eyes. At that critical moment, a dirty joke crossed her mind... His extraordinary anatomy could be lethal.

Behind her, Damian's breathing was heavy.

The ice water was melting apace, and it even seemed to grow warmer.

Beatrice neither dared to look back nor to move...

After what felt like an eternity.

"Is there enough ice?"

Damian's voice came from behind, sounding as if he had suffered a serious internal injury and was extremely exhausted.

Beatrice immediately replied, "Yes! Yes! I'll get some right away!"

Damian leaned back and lay in the bathtub with his head tilted back.

Beatrice crawled out of the bathtub with her limbs... Finally, she stood in the kitchen, dripping with water and unable to recall how she had made it downstairs.

She considered simply leaving the villa.

After ten minutes of debating, Beatrice grabbed the ice and headed upstairs, her jaw clenched.

The plan was simple: drop the ice at his bathroom door and sprint back to her room, deadbolt locked.

But when she got there, his door was already locked.

She stood there, ice in hand, completely baffled. Wait a minute—shouldn't she be the one locking doors and hiding?

*****

Beatrice didn't wake until nine the next morning. She'd spent the early hours lying awake, straining to hear any noise from the next room. After thirty tense minutes of silence, she'd tried to relax with a warm shower, but sleep wouldn't come. It was nearly six when she finally dozed off.

Now, fully dressed, she crept to his bedroom. She lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated. Instead, she leaned in, ear pressed against the door, listening for movement.

The door suddenly swung open.