Page 13 of Forever His Favorite
“Yes!” Lucas leaned forward, his eyes flashing dangerously, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
Emily closed her eyes briefly, inhaling shakily through her nose. Her fists balled at her sides, knuckles whitening as she shoved his arm off her with a forceful jerk. “My husband has a bad temper. If he finds out you’re harassing me, stalking me, he’ll lose it. You don’t want that.”
Lucas’s face contorted, jaw tightening, lips curling into a low, guttural snarl. “Husband? That fucking Sebastian Graves is your husband? Are you kidding me? Do you think I’m going to believe that? A hasty damn marriage—what else is it but a goddamn attempt to piss me off?!”
Emily’s lips parted, but no words came. Her heart thudded against her ribs, each beat echoing in her ears. Spinning on her heel, she stormed toward the car.
Lucas lunged after her, a surge of motion that seemed to carry every ounce of his frustration. She twisted at the last moment, yanking the car door open and slipping inside with urgency. She slammed it shut with a loud thud.
“Drive,” she ordered the driver immediately, her voice tight, breathless.
“Emily!” Lucas roared, his fist pounding against the window with a force that made the glass vibrate. His face was flushed with rage, his veins standing out on his neck.
The driver obeyed immediately, pressing the accelerator as the car jerked forward, tires screeching softly against the asphalt.
Lucas stood rooted in the spot, chest heaving, fists balled so tight his knuckles turned white. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, and his entire body shook with seething rage as the red taillights disappeared into the night.
***
Sebastian’s house was livelier than usual.
The warm, savory scent of food lingered in the air, wrapping the living room in a cozy, indulgent haze. The low table was a chaotic spread of every kind of junk food imaginable—steaming bowls of noodles, golden fries, crispy fried chicken, greasy burgers, and even vibrant bowls of spicy stir-fried vegetables, their aroma tantalizing.
On the floor, Harold and Emily sat cross-legged in their night suits, their hands busy with spoons and forks as they attacked the food with the reckless enthusiasm of children sneaking a forbidden feast. Crumbs clung to their pajamas, and tiny droplets of sauce dotted the carpet, unnoticed in their hunger-driven focus.
Harold’s cheeks puffed out like chipmunks as he chewed, voice muffled through a mouthful of noodles. “Are you serious? Lucas actually said he still doesn’t believe that your marriage is real?”
Emily blew gently on her steaming soup, winding noodles carefully around her fork. Her brows knitted tightly, frustration flickering in her dark eyes. “Can you believe it? He thinks I’m just pretending—like this marriage with Sebastian is nothing more than a trick to make him jealous. He doesn’t believe there’s anything real between us.”
Harold shook his head, pushing a few fries onto his fork. “Thanks to my brother, you got saved from that delusional man. Otherwise, who knows how far his madness would’ve gone? Even after everything, he still thinks you’d go back to him?”
Emily let out a long sigh of relief, finally savoring a bite of her food. She nodded quickly, her lips curving slightly. “Right? Thank God! I can’t even imagine having a peaceful meal like this if I’d stayed with him. Five years… and it was nothing but suffocating.”
Harold grabbed a bowl of spicy stir-fried veggies and dumped a portion onto Emily’s plate with exaggerated seriousness. “Exactly, Miss Emily. And just so you know, I risked my life bringing all these dishes into my brother’s house. He’s been on a business trip since the last two days, but if he finds out we stuffed ourselves with junk food in his living room, he’ll kill us both! He hates unhealthy food.”
Emily bumped her shoulder playfully against his. “Relax. We’ll throw out the evidence before he’s back. By tomorrow, it’ll probably be on the other side of the city.” She giggled, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes.
With a wicked grin, she slid the plate of mini-burgers toward Harold. He met her look, just as conspiratorial, and snatched one up with a grin of his own.
“After we finish eating, how about a movie?” Emily suggested lightly. “Then you can head home.”
“Cool!” Harold said quickly, nodding with enthusiasm before returning to his food.
But the warm, relaxed atmosphere shattered in an instant. A chilling prickle ran down their spines, a sensation that set their nerves on edge.
Emily’s hand froze mid-air, noodles dangling from her fork. Harold’s chewing halted abruptly. Slowly, their eyes lifted—first to a pair of polished black boots, gleaming in the lamplight; then to long legs in perfectly tailored slacks; and finally, the towering figure of a man whose presence seemed to suck the warmth from the room.
Sebastian.
He stood motionless, silent, and imposing, the sharp lines of his tailored suit emphasizing his broad shoulders and commanding frame. His gaze sliced them with quiet authority.
Both Harold and Emily froze, their utensils suspended in mid-air, noodles dangling limply from Harold’s fork. Their mouths hung open, caught red-handed.
Emily swallowed hard, her fork clattering faintly against the bowl as she stammered, voice tight. “H-how come you’re here so early?”
Sebastian’s dark eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He tilted his head slightly, voice low, smooth, and cold as ice. “This is my home too, Mrs. Graves. Do you mind if I come home early?”
Emily and Harold exchanged a panicked glance. The shock finally wearing off, they both snapped to their feet in unison,standing stiffly like schoolchildren caught red-handed, backs straight, shoulders tense.
