Abandoned Luna Now Untouchable (Cecilia) novel Chapter 178

Cecilia

I was suddenly pulled against a wall of solid muscle.

Sebastian’s dominant scent invaded every pore of my body!

The pressure around my waist tightened gradually, and cool, stender fingers gently tilted my chin upward until 1 met his eyes, narrowed and gleaming with dangerous intensity.

“Why are you so eager to get her out?” His voice was unusually gentle.

He meant Harper. The girl. I’d just dragged out of the house like a human shield.

‘To protect me.” I grimaced, my expression pleading.

Sebastian leaned down, his face hovering inches from mine.

His warm breath carried the scent of whiskey as it brushed against my cheek. “What do you need protection from, Ms. Moore? What danger are you facing that I can’t handle myself?”

His voice was deep and indulgent, almost tender, but the grip on my waist told a completely different story.

Oh crap. He’s genuinely angry.

I quickly wrapped my arms around his, “Don’t be upset. Let’s go somewhere else, and I’ll explain everything.” | offered him my sweetest smile.

He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against mine for a brief, possessive moment before pulling back with a wounded tone. “Ms. Moore, I saw everything with my own eyes. What could you possibly explain?”

With that, he released me and walked away. I steadied myself.

Watching his retreating figure, I had a moment of disbelief.

Sebastian stopped by the car.

When he noticed I hadn’t followed, he turned, standing with elegant poise, his expression unreadable as he gazed at me.

I sighed internally.

“Sebastian.” I softened my voice.

When he remained silent, \ bit my lip and tried again with a deliberately sweet tone, “Sebas~”

Sebastian’s wounded expression finally eased somewhat, though not completely.

He said flatly, “Get in the car.”

“Sure thing. I haven’t been drinking-l’ll drive.” Knowing I was in the wrong, I eagerly played the role of servant, retrieving the car keys from his pocket and opening the door for him. The back door…

His expression darkened again.

With a blank face, he walked to the passenger seat and got in. I was speechless.

Wasn’t sitting in the back safer for him?

I felt a surge of frustration.

slid into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine, the low hum barely covering the sigh I let out.

We’d gotten out of the neighborhood in one piece, which already felt Like a minor miracle.

But five minutes into the drive, the silence broke.

“I don’t want to go home,” Sebastian said, his voice low and dramatic, like he was auditioning for a sad indie film.

I shot him a glance. “Okay… and where exactly would Your Brooding Highness prefer to go?”

“Anywhere but that apartment.”

I raised a brow. “You’re pouting.”

“I’m unhappy.”

I exhaled through my nose. “Do you want me to buy you a pint of Ben & Jerry’s or something? That usually works for emotionally unstable men in movies.”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even blink.

Just stared out the window like I’d killed his goldfish.

I groaned. “Fine. Where do you want to go?”

He rattled off an address like he’d been waiting for me to ask. I slowed and tapped it into the GPS.

We passed a convenience store. I was about to keep going when he spoke again.

“Didn’t you say something about ice cream?”

I blinked. “Seriously?”

“Sebastian? Please. We’ve known each other since we were kids. He’s practically family.”

“Family?”

The word dripped off his tongue like it personally offended him.

I winced. “Okay, fine. Mr. Foster. I’ll call him Mr. Foster from now on.

Happy?”

His fingers slipped between mine, warm and deliberate. “I heard you’re planning to meet him again.” I tensed. “It’s just coffee.”

He leaned in slightly, voice low, almost amused. “Next time, bring me along.”

A pause. His eyes locked on mine.

“I’d Like to meet Mr. Foster. I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.” My brain short-circuited somewhere between panic and a very inappropriate mental image.

I squeezed his hand back, hard enough to prove a point.My smile dropped, replaced with the kind of serious expression people wear when swearing oaths in courtrooms.

“Meeting? What meeting? There’s no meeting. That was just dinner-table diplomacy. Empty words. If I see him again, I’ll change sidewalks.

Heck, I’ll move ZIP codes.”

His eyes lit up, storm clouds clearing in real time.

The corners of his mouth lifted. He was sunshine after rain.

I exhaled, finally.

Crisis: averted.

He raised our joined hands to his lips, brushing a kiss over my knuckles.

Then his other hand came up to my cheek-warm, slow.

His thumb traced my skin as he leaned in, breath soft but charged.

The look in his eyes said everything: smug, sweet, and maybe just a Little possessive.