Abandoned Luna Now Untouchable (Cecilia) novel Chapter 224

Cecilia’s pov

“Just like that?” I whispered, voice strangled. “You’re suggesting we… team up to make a baby? Like it’s some kind of weekend project?” He’d said it so casually–like suggesting we grab coffee of repaint the guest room.

Just tossed it out there as casually as discussing the weather.

Team up? For a baby?

A BABY.

Did he think babies happened through sheer mutual agreement, like signing up for a gym membership?

‘Sebastian lowered his newspaper, one brow arched. “Team up for what?”he asked, as if he genuinely hadn’t been listening.

Tang beamed. “To make a baby!”

I choked on air. Oh my God.

Sawyer, who’d only just recovered from his spoon-dropping episode, reached for his orange juice–only to splutter violently when Tang’s words registered.

He looked like he was trying to calculate how much therapy this conversation would require.

Sebastian, meanwhile, went quiet.

Not because it was absurd. But because it… wasn’t. Not to him.

Like he was actually weighing it–running some internal checklist about blood compatibility, pack politics, genetic viability.

After what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“That’s not entirely my decision to make,” he said, his gaze shifting deliberately toward me.

I stared back, willing my face into something that wasn’t outright panic.

He sighed. “That’s not entirely my decision to make,” he said, gaze shifting deliberately toward me.

I met his eyes, unblinking.

“Don’t be so traditional,” I said, voice dry as bone. “Science has come a long way. I don’t need a mate to make a child anymore. Just good timing, a willing clinic, and maybe a turkey baster.” The rustle of his newspaper stilled. Completely.

His fingers tightened slightly at the edge of the page, and he lowered it-just enough for our eyes to meet over the top.

His gaze wasn’t amused anymore.

I mentally high-fived myself. That’s what he gets for entertaining Tang’s ridiculous suggestion.

The breakfast table, which had been comfortably chaotic, suddenly felt…. dense.

Like London weather–gray one moment, pouring the next, then unexpectedly blinding with sun.

Tang looked confused.

Sawyer shot him a look that said, in no uncertain terms: You sweet, naive summer child.

After breakfast, we headed to the branch office.

Day two of the inspection. And just like that–I was famous.

Not the good kind.

By coffee break, people were “checking in,” dropping hints, and casually reliving my drunken antics like they were auditioning for open mic night.

The office rumor mill was in overdrive.

I had one response:

“Oh really? That’s unfortunate. I don’t remember any of that.”

Selective amnesia: still the best strategy in a PR emergency.

One “I don’t recall,” and the gossip line flatlined.

If they still don’t buy it? Not my circus, not my monkeys. I’m just here for the paycheck and the last slice of sanity.And just like that, I survived the day.

The next four days were just as packed.

Site inspections, asset inventories, operational briefings, financial reviews–Sebastian was in back-to-back meetings, presentations, and one-on-ones with senior leadership.

When the workday ended, the social obligations began.

Evenings were a blur of receptions, functions, and networking events.

Sawyer and I were exhausted

In some ways, even more exhausted than the CEO himself.

The rest of the head office staff, having completed their assignments, got to explore London, take a break.

Sawyer and I? We were on the Sebastian Black Tour. No intermissions.

No escape routes.

Honestly, I didn’t mind the chaos.

It kept me too busy for messy feelings, questionable crushes–and the minor detail that I’d apparently flirted with someone not even technically human.

By the time I got back to the villa each night, I barely had enough energy to shower before collapsing into bed.

On the plus side, I was sleeping like the dead.

And it hadn’t been a complete waste–at these events, l’d met a handful of useful contacts.

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