Page 22 of Addicted To His Favorite
“There are so many men here. Now that you’re single, isn’t it supposed to be fun? But looking at you, just one glance says, ‘Stay the fuck away from me.’”
Emily rolled her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “I’m just not in the mood.”
Jeremy raised a brow, leaning closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “What do you mean? How do you expect to get over Lucas if you keep pushing men away like this? You haven’t touched anyone since you left him, have you? You’re so conservative—only slept with Lucas your whole life.”
Emily choked on her drink at those words, heat rushing to her cheeks as her mind flashed back to the night she’d spent with Sebastian less than twenty four hours ago.
To hide her embarrassment from Jeremy’s sharp gaze, she glanced sideways and caught the eye of a handsome young man in his early twenties. He was watching her intently while sipping whiskey, then gave her a smile and raised his glass in a silent toast.
He looked like he wanted to come over and talk to her—but she quickly averted her eyes and turned back to Jeremy.
“Stop talking about me like that,” she scolded. “Why did you even invite me here tonight? You're heartbroken because some girl left you again?”
Jeremy grinned smugly. “Exactly. The best way to get over an old love is to find a new one. And the best way to get over your old man is to find another man.”
Then he winked and made a subtle hand gesture.
From the couch across the room, several men rose in unison as they walked over.
They were dressed similarly—slim black slacks paired with crisp white shirts left open at the chest or sleek black suit jackets, unbuttoned just enough to reveal the sharp lines of muscular collarbones and teasing glimpses of toned abs beneath.
“You hired escorts?” she gasped, eyes wide and horrified. Her crossed leg slipped off the other in shock. The cocktail glass nearly slipped from her fingers, wobbling dangerously before she caught it just in time.
Chapter 7 Luxe
Emily’s gaze swept over the group of impeccably handsome men lined up before her.
At that moment, the young man who’d been watching her from the bar earlier sprang up from his seat, whiskey glass still in hand, and hurried to join the line of escorts.
Emily’s heart hammered as her eyes roamed over the line of men.
Each one was breathtaking—sharp jawlines dusted with just the right amount of stubble, broad shoulders filling tailored jackets that hung open, revealing sculpted chests and taut abs beneath.
Some wore crisp shirts, unbuttoned low enough to expose sun-kissed skin and the hard planes of their torsos, muscles rippling with every slight movement. Their confident postures and smoldering eyes promised danger and desire, like predators dressed to captivate.
Just as she began to feel overwhelmed by the sight, the men started peeling off their shirts, dropping them on the floor, standing bare-chested before her.
Their sculpted torsos emerged, bathed in the dim glow of the bar’s moody lighting—smooth skin stretched over taut muscles, each standing bare-chested before her like statues carved for display.
All except the youngest, the one who’d jumped down from the bar stool. His eyes flickered nervously toward the others, hand hovering uncertainly over the buttons of his shirt. Two were undone at the top, but the rest remained fastened. His fingers trembled; he didn’t follow suit like the others.
Jeremy reclined casually on the couch, a smug grin twisting his lips as his gaze landed on the hesitant newcomer, eyebrows knitting together.
“I only called four men,” Jeremy said dryly, folding his arms across his chest. “Why are there five?”
The young man laughed awkwardly, his voice hurried. “I’m new here... figured I’d join in.”
Without warning, the men closed in around Emily, surrounding her as she sat frozen on the couch.
Across the room, Leon—who had come to meet some clients—spotted Jeremy and the other men encircling Emily.
His eyes narrowed, sharp with concern. Without drawing attention, he slipped quietly out of sight, pulling his phone from his pocket. His fingers trembled slightly as he retreated to a dim corner, as if his life depended on it.
Meanwhile, in his high-rise office, Sebastian sat rigid at his desk. The clock struck ten, its sharp chime ringing through the silent room. His pen scratched quickly across the paper as he hastily signed the last of the stacked files.
The door creaked open softly, and Adam stepped in, dressed casually in contrast to Sebastian’s usual sharp suits. Adam directly strode over to the desk.
“You’re still here? Staying all night again?” Adam raised an eyebrow.
