Page 7 of Addicted To His Favorite
A muscle in his cheek twitched. The usual fire in his chest was now a bitter, burning void. His fingers—unsteady—wrapped around the next drink, the glass cool against his skin, trembling slightly as he brought it to his lips.
“Why hasn’t she come?” he muttered under his breath, voice hoarse, thick with alcohol and disbelief. “After what happened on stage… why hasn’t she come to yell at me yet?”
Usually, she’d be the first to run to him, to fix things, to argue or cry or ask him why.
By now, she always came. Even if they argued, even if it was ugly, Emily always showed up—to fix it, to fight it,something.It never took more than a few minutes before she gave in.
But not this time.
It had been over an hour since the incident on the stage. And still… nothing.
A cold sweat clung to the back of his neck. He reached for his phone, hands shaky. Opened their last thread.
Her last message stared back at him:
‘It’s none of your business anymore. You don’t have to apologize. There’s nothing to apologize for.’
His chest seized. The weight of those words sat heavy on his ribs. His thumbs hovered, then typed:
‘Emily, let’s talk. Come home and I will explain everything.’
He hit send—
Red exclamation point.
She had blocked him.
He stared at it, frozen. Then his fingers clenched tight around the phone until his knuckles turned white as a wave of disbelief and anger rose in his throat.
A sharp breath escaped him. He downed another drink. Then another. The alcohol only made the sting worse.
His body sank into the couch, limbs loose but heart pounding erratically. His head fell back against the cushion, eyes unfocused, thoughts spiraling.
“Why don’t you understand me?” he whispered, voice barely audible. “Do you really want to ruin everything?”
His chest rose and fell in jagged rhythm, mouth dry, heartbeat loud in his ears.
Chapter 3 Someone Special
With fingers that still trembled from Sebastian’s touch, Emily dabbed concealer over the dark bites he’d left on her neck. The marks stung slightly under her fingertips.
She layered more makeup until they were barely visible, swallowed hard, and left the room.
The hallway outside was quiet. But the moment she stepped into the grand ballroom, the sound of the emcee’s voice rang out sharp and clear.
“Mr. Graves, please join us on stage to introduce your new project—Eternal Grace.”
Emily froze.
In the distance, Sebastian was already walking toward the spotlight—tall, composed, commanding. Applause rippled across the hall, but he barely acknowledged it. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, cold and unreadable.
Emily’s heart thundered in her chest.
The emcee’s voice filled the room again.
“Mr. Graves will be launching and leading the Eternal Grace Project—an exclusive luxury jewelry line blending timeless tradition with modern artistry, created for ultra-elite clientele.”
Gasps swept through the audience like a current.
