His Plump Mate (Book 1: The 'His' Series) novel Chapter 167

**Chapter 166: Coverture**

**Cecilia’s POV**

With the speed of a startled deer, I dashed out of Sebastian’s office, my heart racing in my chest as I stumbled down the corridor. Each click of my heels echoed against the polished floor, each step feeling more precarious than the last—as if I had just consumed an entire bottle of whiskey. My treacherous Jimmy Choos, those beautiful yet cruel shoes, seemed to conspire against me, finally exacting their revenge for my reckless flight.

In a sudden twist of fate, my ankle buckled beneath me, sending a jolt of pain shooting up my leg. “Shit!” I hissed, desperately grasping the wall for support, my breath hitching as I fought through the agony. I limped back to my office, leaning heavily against anything that could bear my weight, feeling utterly defeated.

Fantastic. Just one encounter with Alpha “Emotionally Unavailable and Inconveniently Gorgeous,” and here I was, falling apart at the seams. Note to self: Women should lock their hearts tight—perhaps with industrial-grade steel, a padlock, or maybe three.

By the afternoon, I had swapped my heels for a pair of comfortable flats, applied ice to my swollen ankle, and had downgraded my gait from a tragic lurch to a mildly pathetic shuffle. I had plans to visit a sports therapy clinic after work, the very place my dad used to frequent for his tennis injuries. The weekend loomed ahead, and I had already called my parents to inform them that I would be crashing at their place.

Because my apartment? Well, it had officially earned the status of a “cursed zone.”

As the workday drew to a close, Beta Sawyer approached my desk with news that sent my stomach plummeting. “Next Saturday, the Alpha is heading to the London branch,” he announced, his tone casual yet laden with implications.

My mind short-circuited. “Can I… not go?” I blurted out, my voice a mix of desperation and disbelief.

Beta Sawyer chuckled softly, his eyes filled with sympathy. “What do you think? Not only are we going, but the Alpha is selecting additional staff to accompany us. London’s operation is significantly larger than Denver’s. You should take it easy this weekend; it’s not going to be a walk in the park.”

Panic flooded my system as I felt the color drain from my face. I began mentally cataloging the impending disasters: my ankle, which was only partially functional, the gala I was supposed to attend next Friday, and then this trip immediately after. But what truly terrified me was the thought of being in close quarters with Sebastian for several days.

At least in the office, the structure of work hours provided a semblance of safety. But business trips? Those were a different beast altogether. Memories of our previous trips danced in my mind, alongside the complexities of our recently “evolved” relationship. My vision began to narrow as anxiety gripped me.

“Cecilia? Are you alright?” Beta Sawyer’s concerned voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. He looked genuinely worried as he assessed my expression, caught between loyalty to his Alpha and friendship with me. Poor Beta—sometimes he was an unwitting accomplice in Sebastian’s games.

“I’m fine,” I managed to say, forcing myself to regain my composure. “Just twisted my ankle earlier. It’s a bit sore.”

His eyebrows shot up in alarm. “You hurt your ankle? Did you damage the bone? You should really get it checked out!”

“I’ll go after work,” I assured him, though my voice lacked conviction.

“No, go now,” he insisted, straightening his shoulders in a way that suggested he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Don’t wait. If the Alpha asks, I’ll handle it.”

A wave of gratitude washed over me. “Sawyer, you really are my battle buddy in all this.”

He looked away, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. “It’s nothing, really.” His expression seemed to say, *…except when I occasionally defect to the enemy side.*

I left work early, relieved that my left ankle didn’t hinder my driving.

I made my way to Mountain Peak Sports Therapy, a clinic my father had visited whenever he sustained an injury during his weekend tennis matches. Back in high school, my parents had relocated closer to my school, and this place had become our go-to for muscle strains and sprains.

As soon as I stepped inside, Dr. Han, the owner and chief therapist, recognized me. “If it isn’t Professor Moore’s daughter! Cecilia, right?” he greeted, his face lighting up with recognition.

I nodded, a smile breaking across my face. “You remember me, Dr. Han.”

“How could I forget? Every time you came with your father, those boys from the barbershop next door would wander over. Your dad guarded you like you were the Crown Jewels.”

“He was so overprotective,” I chuckled, recalling those memories fondly.

“Not at all! If I had a daughter as beautiful as you, I’d chase away any guy who came within thirty feet of her.” His comment made me laugh, momentarily dispelling the tension that had settled in my chest. We chatted for a few more minutes before I explained my ankle situation.

Settling into the treatment chair, I felt a sense of relief wash over me as he began to examine my injury. “The bone is fine,” he confirmed with a reassuring smile. “It’s not serious. I’ll massage it with some therapeutic oil and apply a cold compress with anti-inflammatory herbs.”

He stood to gather his supplies, and I instinctively pulled out my phone to check for any messages. Suddenly, the door swung open behind me, and the atmosphere shifted. No greeting. No small talk. Just the sound of steady, purposeful footsteps.

*From me,* I corrected silently, *and failing spectacularly.*

“Come here.”

The color drained from Sawyer’s face, as if someone had pulled a plug.

He took a hesitant step forward, then another, stopping just within reach.

I stood—slow and deliberate. Leaned in.

And flicked him. Hard. Right between the eyes.

“How thoughtful of you,” I said mildly, brushing imaginary dust from my sleeve.

Sawyer was still rubbing his face when I turned to the window, my phone already back in hand.

*She’s avoiding us,* Soren snarled, growing restless. *Find her.*

A few taps later, her location popped up.

Sports medicine clinic?

*Injured, not menstruating,* my wolf concluded. *The Beta lied.*

My jaw tightened.