The CEO's Empathy Pregnancy Pains

Michael was just as shocked to see such a captivating sight. Emily was perched on the edge of the bed, her hair still damp, wearing a flimsy nightgown that barely clung to her shoulder, showing off a lot of skin. The gown's hem was hiked up to her thighs, leaving her legs completely exposed.

They both froze for a moment, but Emily snapped out of it first. She quickly fixed her clothes and stood up, her face turning bright red, unsure of how much he had seen.

"What are you doing here?" Emily asked, her voice shaky. Apart from that one time he was drugged, this was the first time he had come into her room while sober. They usually slept in separate rooms.

Michael looked away. He had seen plenty of beautiful women, but he had to admit, Emily was the most stunning and graceful of them all.

He cleared his throat and finally met her eyes. "Did you go to the hospital today?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

It was then that Emily noticed he was holding an ice pack and a towel. She looked at him, confused, not sure what he was planning. As he moved forward, she backed up until she had nowhere to go and fell back onto the bed. "What are you going to do?" Emily's heart pounded as he got closer, her ears burning.

Michael looked at her flushed face and found her unexpectedly cute. "Hold still, you need some ice." He placed the towel on her bruised face, and the sudden coldness calmed her down. It was these rare moments of kindness that had made her fall for him, tricking herself into thinking he might care for her. But she wasn't going to fall for it again.

"Thanks, I can do it myself." Emily took the towel from him, stood up quickly, and moved a few steps away, avoiding his eyes.

"Do you feel like throwing up now?" Michael asked bluntly.

Emily tensed up. 'Why is he bringing this up again? Did he figure something out?'

"What are you trying to say? This is ridiculous," Emily shot back, trying to bluff her way out.

Michael stared at her for a few seconds, finding no clues. But to confirm his suspicions, he spoke firmly and coldly, "From now on, you're sleeping with me."

Emily thought she misheard. She looked at Michael, not understanding what was going on with him tonight. "What?"

"Emily, you heard me. Pack your stuff and come to the master bedroom now." Michael looked at her with a serious expression. He needed to figure out why his emotions were so tied to Emily.

Emily was confused, her brows knitting together. "Aren't you obsessed with cleanliness?" She couldn't believe she was worried about his cleanliness fetish at a time like this.

"You're overthinking it. We're just sharing a bed. I didn't touch you before, and I won't now," Michael said, sounding a bit annoyed.

Emily instinctively glanced at her abdomen. 'If you didn't touch me, how could I have this baby?' She scoffed internally and looked up at him. "Mr. Smith, we're about to get divorced. Isn't it a bit inappropriate to sleep together now?" Emily decisively refused. She didn't know what had gotten into him, but she was too tired to deal with him tonight. "Please leave. I need to rest," Emily said, pointing to the door without any courtesy.

But Michael never cared about what others wanted because he was Michael. He had the money and the power, never needing to consider anyone else's feelings, only his own.

Plus, they weren't divorced yet. So without a second thought, he bent down and scooped Emily up. She gasped at the sudden loss of balance and clung tightly to Michael's neck.

"What are you doing? Put me down," Emily was genuinely angry, struggling and hitting him. But Michael ignored her, carrying her all the way to the master bedroom.

This wasn't her first time in his master bedroom. Over the past two years, apart from working on designs late at night, she had spent most of her time taking care of him, from coordinating his outfits to ensuring his diet was healthy. She was familiar with his room, having personally arranged everything from his suits to his ties and socks. So when Michael let go of her, she immediately went to open the door, but it was already locked. "Michael, what are you doing? If you want company, go to Sophia. Let me out," Emily said coldly, glaring at him.

"Why aren't you calling me Mr. Smith now? It seems like you were pretending all along. Emily, we haven't signed the divorce agreement yet, and you're already telling me to be with another woman. Are you that eager to get divorced?" Michael's face darkened as he stepped closer to her.

Emily was infuriated. "Mr. Smith, you are not only good at business, but also quite adept at falsely accusing others," Emily retorted impatiently. Emily was cornered by Michael, her hands pinned above her head against the wall. She turned her head away to avoid his gaze.

Michael knew she was referring to him being the one who first brought up divorce. Thinking of this, he felt a sense of emptiness and released her.

"The divorce will happen, but before that, I need to figure something out," Michael said, turning towards the bed.

"What is it?" Emily asked.

"Don't ask. Your job is to sleep here from now on," Michael snapped irritably.

Emily really didn't want to stay in the same room with him, but the door wouldn't open. She took a deep breath and walked towards the sofa, resigning herself to spending the night there.

Emily thought she had made it through the night peacefully, but when she woke up in the morning, she found herself in Michael's bed. She was startled and then quickly got up and hurried back to her room.

Fortunately, Ava told her that Michael had left early in the morning. She was relieved that she didn't have to explain why she was in his bed or worry about him seeing her vomit several times that morning.