Author’s pov
Outside, the sumr sun blazed without rcy, making the air shimr over the asphalt.
Inside the car, even the A/C couldn’t cool the heat simring beneath Sebastian’s gaze.
Across from him, Cecilia’s heartbeat quickened, her cheeks flushing a soft pink under the weight of his eyes.
Sebastian’s lips curved into an unapologetic smile--equal parts charming and dangerous.
He leaned over and gave her cheek a light, teasing pinch.
"Fine, fine. No eating anyone alive in broad daylight," he said with a lazy grin. "But I’m still hungry--for food, of course."
With that, he turned his attention back to the road, pulling smoothly into traffic.
A few minutes later, they passed a sleek Thai restaurant with minimalist décor visible through tall glass windows--urban, modern, and totally Instagrammable.
"How about that place?" Cecilia asked, pointing. "Thai food’s light enough for this brutal heat."
"Perfect," Sebastian replied, sliding into a nearby parking space like he owned the block.
They got out and crossed the sidewalk, taking their ti, the air between them crackling with an energy that had little to do with the temperature.
Across the street, a white sedan sat there, its engine humming quietly.
Inside, Amara sat stiff as a board, her posture as rigid as her jaw.
She’d been following them since they left the office, losing them briefly in traffic before spotting Sebastian’s ridiculously flashy car again. Sleek. Black. Absurdly expensive. Of course.
Her eyes narrowed as she watched the pair walk casually into the restaurant--no briefcase, no conference calls, no associates.
Just the two of them, strolling shoulder to shoulder, like a couple.
She gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles went white.
So this was the "business eting"? A lunch date with the woman who didn’t know her place.
She grabbed her phone, took a few shots through the windshield, and began typing with vicious intent.
Godmother,
Sebastian’s ditching work again. He claid a business eting, but he’s at a restaurant with Cecilia Moore. Alone.
Miles away, Luna Regina read the ssage with a deepening frown.
Back at the restaurant, Cecilia had no clue about the drama brewing across the street.
To her, it was simply a hot sumr day, and a nice lunch.
She had no idea that the mont she stepped through those doors, soone had already begun cooking up the next Chapter of office gossip.
Cecilia’s pov
Sothing in the air made pause--an instinct, maybe.
A shiver without a reason.
But I was too distracted by the man sitting across from --all white linen, rolled-up sleeves.
Sebastian had already ordered several dishes without even glancing at the nu.
He handled it the way he did everything else: like the world had been pre-programd to accommodate him.
Smooth. Efficient. Unbothered.
"It’s twelve forty-five," I said, checking my watch.
"You’ve got maybe thirty minutes to eat before we need to head back. You have that board eting this afternoon."
Sebastian smirked. "Cece, I already told you--I don’t bite. You don’t have to be so nervous."
Which, of course, was exactly what soone who absolutely bites would say.
Despite his words, he got up and slid into the seat beside .
I glanced at him, my heartbeat ticking up a notch, tongue darting out to wet my lips without conscious thought.
I placed the soup in front of him. "Here. It’s a bit stuffy--I’ll open a window."
The window creaked open easily, a warm southern breeze slipping in, carrying the scent of sunbaked streets and magnolia trees.
When I turned back, my path was blocked.
Sebastian stood there, arms braced on either side of the windowsill, effectively caging in.
He wasn’t touching , but it felt like he was everywhere.
"Cece," he murmured, voice low enough to lt steel, "did you slip sothing in my soup?"
His eyes burned. "I only took one sip, but I’m feeling incredibly... hot."
He leaned in, lips brushing mine. "I really want to kiss you."
A shiver shot straight through .
I swallowed hard, and with the kind of reckless courage that only cos from knowing we were alone, I rose on tiptoe and pressed my lips to his.
Like striking a match in a dry forest, the spark exploded.
His arm wrapped around my waist, yanking against him.
His mouth slanted over mine, claiming, coaxing, devouring.
Outside, sunlight blazed, cicadas scread.
Inside, it was just him--his mouth, his hands, the way he made my pulse trip and tumble like a drunk girl in high heels.
My breath hitched. My fingers curled in his shirt like they were holding on for dear life.
My spine arched. My knees forgot how to behave.
Knock knock!
The sudden rapping at the door startled so badly I bit Sebastian’s lip.
He flinched.
"Shit--sorry," I breathed, eyes wide.
Yet rather than anger, he rely frowned toward the door.
I pushed him away, embarrassed, and quickly fixed his shirt buttons before straightening my own clothes.
"Co in," he called, voice tight with irritation.
The door opened.
The restaurant owner entered, followed by a frost-faced Amara.
Her eyes imdiately locked onto Sebastian’s injured lip, and her expression contorted with hatred.
She looked ready to tear apart with her bare hands.
"Don’t tell you just happened to be dining here too?" Sebastian’s voice was glacial as he stared at Amara.
I remained silent.
She had obviously followed us here.
Didn’t she realize that stalking only pushed n further away?
Luna Regina’s strategy of placing Amara close to Sebastian seed increasingly counterproductive.
"Yes, actually," Amara replied, her composure cracking. "I saw your car and thought I’d say hello. Is that a problem? Or am I interrupting sothing... intimate?"
Sebastian’s expression darkened with annoyance. "Yes, you are interrupting my lunch with my girlfriend. Get out!"
The harshness of his dismissal broke sothing in Amara.
Tears welled in her eyes and began streaming down her face in complete silence, making the restaurant owner shift awkwardly.
I exhaled uncomfortably.
With the way she was crying, you’d think we’d run over her dog and reversed for good asure.
If I returned to the office with her looking like this, the gossip mill would short-circuit from sheer overload.
Amara kept sobbing, full-body, Oscar-worthy sobs.
Sebastian, clearly at the end of his rope, grabbed my hand to leave.
"No, you can’t go!" Amara lunged forward, arms outstretched.
Sebastian dodged her like a pro, but she pivoted--straight toward .
And unlike Sebastian, I wasn’t fast enough to avoid impact.
Suddenly, I found myself trapped in a tear-drenched, snot-slicked embrace, her mascara-streaked face saring a Monet-level tragedy all over my dress and freshly blow-dried hair.
Help. Why was I in this rom-com horror scene?
And this dress? Basically a month’s paycheck.
"Let her go!" Sebastian snapped, his voice low and dangerous, patience officially out of stock.
But I could see the dilemma etched into his face--he wouldn’t manhandle a crying woman, not even a deranged one.
When he tried to gently pull her arm away, she yelped like he’d dislocated her shoulder, and he imdiately let go.
That’s when it hit .
My Alpha boyfriend had a fatal flaw--he was completely powerless against weaponized tears.
Despite the absurdity of it all, I couldn’t stop myself--I laughed.
The sound made Amara freeze mid-wail.
Then she doubled down, sobbing even louder, like she was trying to drown us all in her grief.
She clung to tighter like I was a life raft and she was the Titanic.
Then ca the shrieked accusations:
"What are you laughing at?! I knew the second I saw you--you’d seduce him! You shouldn’t be together!"
"Amara, please stop crying," I attempted reason.
"You’re known for your cool, elegant beauty. Your makeup is running--you look like a horror movie extra.
Please. Pull it together. Ugly-crying won’t get you a rewrite."
At the ntion of her ruined makeup, she made a sound sowhere between a sob and a growl--then promptly buried her face deeper into my chest.
Sebastian’s eyes widened like he’d just witnessed a car crash in slow motion.
I froze.
I looked down at the head pressed against my boobs and had one singular, horrifying realization:
Was I being emotionally held hostage and physically assaulted by my boyfriend’s deranged ex?
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