Page 23 of Obsessing Over His Favorite

“No! Get off me!” she cried, pushing at him with all her strength. She wriggled beneath him, trying to escape, but he was too strong—too heavy—and didn’t stop.

She struggled underneath him, her voice rising. "You’re forcing yourself on me, Lucas Cantrell!" she screamed.

That stopped him cold.

Every muscle in his body turned to stone. Then, his face twisted with fury as he pulled away from her like he’d been burned.

His expression was stormy.

“Emily,” he said, voice dangerously low, “you’re really crossing a line now. Stop throwing your tantrums. If you don’t want to sleep with me, then fine. Just don’t crawl into my bed begging for it later like you always do!”

His voice roared through the dark room before he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter 5 Stop Stalking Me

“Mr. Cantrell, Ms. Jones is waiting inside,” Dillon said, holding open the car door.

Without a word, Lucas stepped out and marched up the stairs of a modern, upscale house. He entered after punching in the code and headed straight to Amelia’s bedroom, which overlooked the garden.

His footsteps echoed through the quiet house.

Inside, Amelia quickly yanked the hot pack off her forehead and shoved it under the blanket. When Lucas entered, she greeted him with red cheeks and watery eyes.

She coughed lightly. “Lucas. You came.”

“What happened?” he asked, striding to the bed. He reached out, pressing the back of his hand to her cheek. Her skin was warm. “You feel like you’re burning up. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know... I’ve been feeling awful since I got home,” she murmured. “I’m sorry for calling you this late, but I didn’t have anyone else. I don’t have a family, Lucas. I only have you.”

She looked up at him, eyes glossy and lips quivering. She reached out, her fingers curling around his.

“Emily didn’t get the wrong idea again, did she?” Amelia asked softly, her voice dripping with concern. “If she’s mad again, maybe I should come over tomorrow... talk to her. Beg her not to be angry with you.”

“It has nothing to do with Emily,” Lucas muttered, pulling his hand out of her grip, his voice dry. “Your mother asked me to look after you before she passed. That’s what I’m doing.”

“But still… thank you for coming,” she said softly. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed against his stomach as she looked up at him with teary eyes and a soft, helpless expression. “You’re always so kind to me.”

He pulled away from her the next moment, taking a sharp step back. “I’ll call a doctor,” he muttered before turning and walking out.

Amelia watched him leave. As soon as the front door shut behind him, she turned her head toward the window.

Outside, a man with a camera standing in the shadows gave her a subtle thumbs up.

A smirk curved her lips in victory.

***

The next evening, an envelope was dropped off at Lucas’ residence when he was at the office.

Emily found it resting at the doorstep, her name written in bold letters across the front. She frowned, puzzled, and picked it up, glancing around. No note, no return address.

She carried it upstairs, heading into the bedroom. Sitting at her dressing table, she carefully opened it.

Her breath caught.

Ten photographs slipped out and scattered across the tabletop, landing face-up on the table. Emily blinked, picking up the first one. Then the next. And the next.

Each picture was worse than the last.