Cruel Billionaire Boss: Forced Marriage Pregnancy Romance by Zara Blaze

Author:Zara Blaze [Blaze, Zara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13 - Dominic

I leaned back in my office chair, my gaze drifting to the cityscape beyond the window, though my focus wasn’t on the view. The Monday morning hum of the office buzzed faintly outside my closed door, but my thoughts were tangled in the weekend. Specifically, in her.

Saturday had been... rough. The tension between us started with the conversation at the gazebo and escalated at the gym. But Sunday was different. It started early, at 5:30 a.m., at the gym. Emily was already there when I arrived. I replayed those small details in my mind, the steady rhythm of her breath, the subtle flex of her muscles, the way she exhaled forcefully after each set, etched into my memory.

After our session, we quickly whipped up some oatmeal before heading to the showers.

Later, I was lounging in the living room when Emily walked in, her hair still damp from the shower, wearing baggy sweatpants and an oversized sweater. But something about the way she hid behind the loose fabric made me pause. It dawned on me that she wasn’t just wearing those clothes for comfort. She was hiding those curves, that beauty she was insecure about and didn’t seem to want to embrace. She deserved to feel confident, and I was going to make sure she did. I decided that I’d take her shopping soon, not to change her, but to show her she could be her most confident self in anything she wore, or nothing at all, if I had my say.

The rest of the day unfolded in ways I hadn’t expected. Emily suggested a movie marathon, and by the time she settled onto the couch, her messy bun and no-fuss outfit made her more captivating than any movie star. As the hours passed, I stopped pretending to care about the screen. I was too focused on her. The way her nose crinkled when she laughed, the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear without thinking, or how her voice became animated when defending her favorite characters. It was like a movie of her own, but more vivid, more real. I found myself comparing her presence to the characters on the screen, realizing she was far more vibrant than any Hollywood creation.

By 5 p.m., Emily announced it was time to clean up. “Lucy will be home soon, and if she sees this mess, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I like the way you think,” I teased.

We worked quickly, stuffing bags of chips and candy wrappers into the trash, wiping down the table, and fluffing the couch cushions like two kids covering up evidence of late-night snacking.

When we were done, Emily sighed in relief. “Crisis averted,” she declared.

“For now,” I quipped, earning a playful shove.

Then she took charge in the kitchen, insisting on cooking dinner. I couldn’t help but notice everything about her movements, how graceful she looked as she chopped vegetables, how the light from the kitchen overhead caught the subtle curve of her neck.

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