Page 6 of Forever His Favorite
“Mrs. Graves,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with steel. “Do I need to remind you that you are my wife now? Harold is my brother, and he has no choice but to honor that. He should never dare look at you with anything but respect.”
Emily bit her lip at his words, her thoughts twisting. ‘He’s not entirely wrong… Harold may only be my friend, but he’s also Sebastian’s brother. I can’t afford to disregard that bond.’ A faint, tense smile tugged at her lips before she finally gave him a small, reluctant nod.
The heavy silence in the room shattered when the front door clicked open. Leon entered, the sharp rhythm of his polished shoes echoing against the marble floor, his crisp suit and composed demeanor radiating quiet authority. He approached with a respectful nod, stopping just short of Sebastian.
“Mr. Graves, your car is ready. The meeting is in thirty minutes,” he said evenly.
Sebastian’s gaze lingered on Emily, the icy edge in his expression melting just slightly. His hand rose, engulfing her face in his palm. His thumb brushed over the curve of her cheek, tilting her chin up until she had no choice but to meet his piercing eyes.
“I am leaving for now,” he said, his stare holding her captive. “Are you going to just see me leave like this?”
Emily’s breath caught at the intensity of his gaze, her cheeks warming. A shy, almost nervous smile curved her lips as she rose on her toes. She pressed the lightest kiss to his mouth—soft, fleeting, and timid, but enough to leave her skin tingling and her face burning long after she pulled away.
For once, he didn’t make a fuss, didn’t pull her closer or deepen the kiss. Instead, he allowed her to pull back. His hand lingered a beat longer on her waist before sliding off.
Straightening, he cast Harold one last sharp, warning glare—so cold it sent a shiver down the younger man’s spine—before turning on his heel and striding out with Leon.
The heavy front door slammed shut behind them, echoing through the spacious living room.
Both Emily and Harold sank onto the plush couch at the same time, their shoulders slumping as if a storm had just passed. They exhaled in unison, the tension leaving them in a rush.
“He finally left,” Harold groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. His other hand fell limply onto the soft cushion beside him, and his legs stretched out, kicking at the rug. “Thank God. Why is he so damn scary?”
Emily let out a small, nervous laugh, her fingers twisting the edge of the throw pillow beside her. She let out a small laugh, though it carried a nervous edge. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and nodded in agreement despite herself.
Harold’s gaze drifted downward, stopping at the jewelry strewn across the glass coffee table. Emily hadn’t had the chance to put it away after the party; the necklace, bracelet, and earrings lay scattered in their open boxes, catching the soft glow of the chandelier overhead. Harold blinked, brows knitting together in visible confusion.
“I never expected my brother to know how to give perfect gifts to girls, Miss Emily,” Harold said, disbelief threading his voice. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
Emily blinked, puzzled. “What do you mean?” Her brow furrowed, and she shifted slightly.
Harold’s eyes met her gaze. He pointed toward the jewelry, his expression turning solemn. “This is the Graves family’s personal collection. Sebastian had this entire set made by our family’s personal jewelry designer just for you. Didn’t you know that?”
Emily’s hands rose instinctively to the necklace, fingertips brushing over the delicate craftsmanship as she stared at it in stunned silence.
Earlier, she had slipped the jewelry on with little thought, assuming it was just a gift—maybe even something she’d have to return after the event.
But now, she immediately recognized the significance. This wasn’t just jewelry. It was a statement. A public declaration. A symbol that she already belonged to the Graves family.
Her chest tightened, a swirl of emotions pressing within her ribs. Warmth spread slowly, tingling down her arms and across her shoulders, tugging at the corners of her lips.
For the first time, she felt something deeper.
Not just valued. Cherished. Special.
***
Emily’s sleep was interrupted by a barrage of notifications pinging repeatedly on her phone. Her lashes fluttered open groggily as she reached across the nightstand, squinting at the glowing screen. Notification after notification piled across the top bar until the device felt almost hot in her palm.
Her heart gave a small kick. Frowning, she unlocked it.
The headlines screamed at her in bold fonts.
“Popular Designer Amelia Jones Issues Statement Claiming Mr. Sebastian Graves and Ms. Emily Crawford Used Their Wealth and Influence to Oust Her from the Industry.”
“Ms. Amelia Faces Industry Ban; Allegations Point to Sebastian Graves and Emily Crawford for Career Sabotage.”
“Amelia Jones Claims She’s Being Targeted in Revenge Scheme by Emily Crawford and Sebastian Graves”
