Page 51 of Obsessing Over His Favorite
He stormed down the corridor, footsteps echoing like gunshots against the marble floor. His jaw was tight, fists clenched at his sides. He wasn’t heading for the elevators. He veered sharply—to the door directly across from his own.
Emily’s office.
Without knocking, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
Empty.
His eyes scanned the large room, his breath shallow, searching for her. Her laptop was still on the desk, a cup of tea sat untouched, but she wasn’t there.
But she wasn’t there.
His body tensed, the flicker of irritation bursting into something hotter.
He turned on his heel and stormed out, yanking open the door to his own office next.
“Emily?” he barked, expecting her to be there—maybe pouting on the couch, arms crossed like she always did when she got emotional.
Silence.
He scanned the room. No trace of her.
His eyes flicked toward the washroom. He strode across and pushed it open.
Empty.
His agitation, once simmering, now boiled over. His breathing quickened. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
Just then, Dillon appeared in the doorway, having followed the trail of his boss’s rising fury. His voice was careful, uncertain.
“Mr. Cantrell?”
“Where’s Emily?” Lucas turned to him slowly, his expression darkening by the second.
Dillon stiffened, caught off guard. “Sir… didn’t you tell her she was fired?”
Lucas’s jaw clenched so hard the muscle twitched. “Don't you know her? When has she ever left me alone? She always comes back. Did she go home?”
Dillon shifted, folding his hands behind his back as tension deepened in his brow. “Mr. Cantrell… I don’t think she went home.”
Lucas’s gaze sharpened. “Did you ask the staff?”
“No, sir,” Dillon replied, his voice tight. “But I saw her getting into a car outside the building when I was returning from a meeting.”
Lucas’s shoulders stiffened. “Whose car?”
Dillon hesitated, then spoke quietly. “I recognized the plates. It belongs to Mr. Jacob Nox.”
Lucas’s expression changed instantly.
The color drained from his face, replaced by a dangerous calm. His body stilled. His hands dropped to the edge of the table, gripping it tightly.
“Jacob Nox?” he repeated, voice dangerously low.
“Yes, sir,” Dillon answered. “She got into his car. It drove off. She never came back.”
Lucas remained frozen, but the look in his eyes made the room feel ten degrees colder.
Jacob Nox.
