We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 172

Chapter 172

I was walking confidently toward the entrance when a familiar

cramping sensation suddenly gripped my lower abdomen.

Oh no. Perfect timing.

“Cedar? Is something wrong?” Aiden’s perceptive eyes caught my

momentary falter.

I pressed a hand discreetly against my stomach. “I’m fine. Just a little

uncomfortable. Wait here for me, okay?”

Thankfully, I always kept sanitary pads in my bag. I hurried toward

the restroom, but before I could reach it, I heard a concerned voice

behind me.

“Excuse me! There’s… you have a stain‘ on your pants.”

I turned to see a stylish woman in a cream–colored pantsuit hurrying

toward me, concern etched across her face. Glancing down, I

confirmed my worst fear–an obvious red stain had bloomed across

the back of my light–colored pants.

Perfect. Just perfect. I had an important business presentation in

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minutes, and now this.

“Do you have a change of clothes? If not, you’re welcome to come to

my office. I keep spares for emergencies,” the woman offered kindly.

It had been ages since I’d encountered such genuine helpfulness.

“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. I’m Cedar Wright, by the

way.”

“No problem at all. These things happen to all of us,” she smiled

warmly. “I’m Emma Pierce.”

I blinked in surprise. “Emma Pierce? From the Pierce family?”

Her smile brightened. “Am I that famous? How did you know?”

The truth was, I’d only learned about her during my pre–meeting

research. Emma Pierce, 26 years old, the princess of Pierce Group,

living a life most Chicagoans could only dream about. If Ridley was

Chicago’s most eligible bachelor, Emma was the woman most envied.

“I’m Cedar Wright from Nest Design,” I explained, embarrassed. “I’m

actually here to present our smart home solutions for your new

i

development. I wasn’t expecting to meet you like this…”

“You’re my meeting? That’s wonderful!” Emma clasped my hands

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enthusiastically. “This is my first major project since Dad brought me

into the business. I was worried about working with some

intimidating executive, but you’re about my age. What a relief! You’ll

have to guide me through anything I don’t understand–and please

don’t laugh if I ask silly questions, okay?”

Her genuine warmth was disarming. Despite her privileged position,

she was asking for my help and guidance. I’d read that Emma Pierce

was known for her charitable work—including funding a shelter for

homeless youth after witnessing a tragedy one winter–but

experiencing her kindness firsthand was different.

By the time I’d changed into the pants she lent me (designer, of

course, but thankfully a simple cut that worked with my blouse), we’d

established a comfortable rapport.

When we entered the conference room together, Aiden was already

seated, his small frame looking comically professional in the

executive chair.

“Aiden! It’s been too long,” Emma beamed, taking the seat beside him. “So your dad gave you this project, and my dad gave me mine. Looks

like we’re partners in crime.”

She extended her hand, which Aiden shook with formal politeness.

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