Page 35 of Obsessing Over His Favorite
As if sensing her thoughts, Lucas continued, “I don’t want you getting into another argument with Amelia,” Lucas added, proving her thoughts were right on target. “Focus on your job.Don’t worry about what she’s doing or who she’s talking to—that’s none of your business now. Your work is to assist me, manage my schedule, and handle all office-related duties. That’s it. Understood?”
She gave a short nod. All she needed right now was money. The position didn’t matter—especially when she couldn’t even remember what she'd done in the past.
“I’ve arranged for your old desk and office to be yours again. It’s right across from mine,” he said, pointing toward the smaller office opposite his. “Everything’s ready. Get started.”
“Got it,” she muttered, then turned and walked out without a glance back.
Lucas’s eyes followed her retreating figure. That tightness was back—low in his chest and annoyingly persistent.
No smile. No spark in her eyes. No warmth, no softness. No playful glance or teasing remark.
‘What happened to her?’
She used to be clingy—constantly flirting, smiling at him, always trying to be near. But now, she was cold, distant.
She used to light up the room the moment she saw him. Now… she wouldn’t even look back.
He exhaled through his nose, adjusting his cuffs with measured precision. “It’s just a matter of time,” he muttered, watching her disappear into her office. “She’s probably already dying to be close to me. She never lasts more than a few hours—let alone a full day.”
He smirked to himself, the trace of arrogance failing to mask the flicker of doubt in his eyes.
***
Emily sat down at the sleek desk in her office, letting out a slow breath as she opened the drawers. Jewelry designs, appointment notes, and presentation layouts were all mixed together. She focused on organizing Lucas’s schedule, packing every hour with meetings, calls, and appointments.
Let him be too busy to bother her.
Later, as the office quieted down, she slipped away toward the Design Department.
Amelia’s desk sat near the far end.
‘I accused her of stealing. But why? What did she do that made me so sure enough to cause a scene in front of everyone?’
She reached Amelia’s desk and found it covered in papers—sketches, designs, and product drafts. Necklaces, bracelet sets, luxury watches—meticulously drawn out.
As she flipped through them, an odd sense of familiarity crept in.
‘Why do these designs feel familiar?’
She glanced at the dates marked beneath the sketches. They were recent, all signed by Amelia. And yet, something about them tugged at her memory.
‘I’ve seen these before.’
She pressed her lips together, thoughts spiraling, chest tightening with that creeping sense of déjà vu.
From across the room, Dillon’s gaze never left her. He’d been watching her all day and had already caught her subtle detour. The second she lingered near Amelia’s desk, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
He turned and strode toward Lucas’s office.
He pushed the door open and approached the desk with quick steps.
“Mr. Cantrell, Ms. Crawford is poking around Ms. Jones’ desk,” Dillon informed Lucas curtly.
Lucas exhaled sharply through his nose, the veins on his neck tensing.
“Send her to my office,” he ordered coldly. “Now.”
Dillon smirked, pleased, and pivoted back down the corridor.
