Page 80 of Addicted To His Favorite
Emily exhaled shakily, her lips twitching into the faintest smile. She leaned her head back against the wall, steadying herself.
Soon, everyone gathered at the dining table. Diana, George, and Adam sat together on one side, while Emily sat across from them, with Sebastian beside her.
The meal began quietly, only the soft clink of silverware against china breaking the stillness.
Emily was almost done with her dinner when she felt it—Sebastian’s knee brushing against hers beneath the table. At first, it was light, almost accidental. Then, slowly his leg pressed firmly against hers, sliding up and down in an unhurried rhythm.
Her breath hitched, pulse leaping. She kept her gaze on her plate, pretending to eat, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.
A moment later, his hand followed. It slipped under the edge of the tablecloth, his fingers brushing her thigh—light at first, then tracing higher.
Emily’s eyes darted to him, wide, warning, pleading. But Sebastian continued eating dinner, his expression a perfect mask of composure. The faint, knowing curve of his mouth was the only sign of the chaos he was igniting under the table.
She shifted in her seat, trying to escape his touch, but the movement only made his fingers trail higher. Heat flooded her body, her pulse hammering so hard she could barely hear the clatter of dishes around her.
“Emily,” George’s voice broke through the haze, his fork pausing mid-air. He frowned. “Why are you twitching so much? Eat properly—you’re disturbing everyone at the table.”
Emily froze. Her face burned. “S-sorry, Dad,” she murmured quickly, ducking her head. “It was just… a little twitch in my leg.” She shoved food into her mouth, desperate to hide her mortification.
Beside her, Sebastian nearly smiled. His lips twitched with amusement as he calmly ate another bite of creamy risotto, chewing with infuriating leisure.
Emily clenched her jaw, fury and embarrassment mixing. Her hand shot under the table, pinching his thigh hard. Sebastian jolted, coughing on his wine at the sharp sting.
Diana leaned forward in concern. “Are you alright, Sebastian?”
“Yes,” he cleared his throat smoothly, regaining composure. “Just went down the wrong way.”
George, curious, set down his glass. “Tell me, Sebastian, what kind of work are you in? Adam mentioned construction—said you built Max Mall and some hotels. Are you from Manhattan originally?”
Sebastian wiped his mouth politely before answering. “Yes, Mr. Crawford. Construction is one of our businesses. We also manage jewelry, malls, finance, and several other services. I handle a portion of the companies under the Empire Group.”
George and Diana both froze, staring. Diana’s brows furrowed. “Empire Group? As in… the largest construction and finance conglomerate in the country?”
George let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “That can’t be right. The Empire Group belongs to the Graves family, doesn’t it? Their three heirs manage it. Unless…” He trailed off, eyes narrowing in uncertainty.
Sebastian set down his knife and fork, his gaze steady as he said evenly, “That’s correct. I’m Sebastian Graves. My brothers oversee the remaining divisions of the group.”
Silence fell over the table.
George and Diana’s eyes widened in shock, realization crashing into them.
George turned toward Adam in disbelief. “How didyoubecome friends with someone like him?”
Adam didn’t even pause his eating. “We’ve been friends since high school. Then college too.” He smirked proudly, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? I’ve got such a great personality. Sebastian practically begged to be my friend.”
George and Diana exchanged a look, both sighing and shaking their heads at their son’s blatant narcissism.
Adam, oblivious, turned his head toward Sebastian. But Sebastian wasn’t paying attention—his gaze was fixed on Emily, who sat stiffly with her head lowered.
“Sebastian?” Adam called once.
No answer.
His brows knit tighter. “Sebastian?!” This time louder, sharp with annoyance.
Sebastian’s eyes snapped to Adam.
“What are you staring at?” Adam frowned.
