Chapter 219
Cecilia’s pov
“Not talking. Not interested in talking. Absolutely refusing to talk p>
Each sentence cut sharper than the last.
I shoved lightly against Sebastian’s chest and rose from my seat, needing space like I needed air.
“I’m going to the restroom. Excuse me p>
He didn’t move.
One arm was braced against the table, the other behind my chair.
Blocking my way with that maddening, immovable calm.
His gaze flicked over my face–not angry, not even cold. Just tired. Like he was bracing for a storm he’d already accepted.
“Fine,” he said at last, his voice dipping into that gravelly register that curled around my spine like smoke. “You don’t want to talk? Then don’t. Just…listen p>
“Alpha, I’m not kidding. I need to pee. This isn’t some dramatic standoff–it’s biology p>
He caught my hand before I could escape and rose to his full height in one fluid motion. “Then I’ll walk you there p>
I blinked at him. “Seriously? You think I need an armed escort to a bathroom stall p>
He didn’t even crack a smile.
“Maybe not. But I’ll still be there. Monsters or not. From now on p>
That. Right there. That woke the fire in me.
From now on? As if we were still the same as before.
I smiled–a dagger wrapped in silk “Well, if playing bodyguard gets you off, Alpha, knock yourself out p>
I slipped past him, his fingers still curled around mine until we reached the tiny lavatory door. Only then did he let go, and even then, it felt reluctant.
I gave him one last glance and shut the door in his face.
The lock slid into place with a metallic finality that was far more satisfying than it should’ve been.
Then I sat.
On the closed toilet lid. Fully clothed. Elbows on knees. Head in hands.
And I stayed there.
For thirty full minutes.
I finally stepped out of the bathroom.
Any longer and people would’ve thought I had food poisoning.
Sebastian was still there, waiting.
The shadows under his eyes had deepened into bruises. Worry lines carved across his usually perfect forehead. He looked like hell.
Good, whispered the petty little voice in my head. Serves him right.
I swept past him wordlessly.
“Cece p>
His fingers wrapped gently around my wrist, his voice low and stupidly earnest.
“Do you need anything? Water? Food p>
I deflated like someone had poked a hole in whatever pride balloon I’d been floating on.
Was he planning to hover for the rest of the flight? Just trail behind me in a $5,000 suit until I cracked?
I turned to face him. “Fine. I’ve got nowhere to be. Say what you need to say, Alpha. I’m all ears p>
We moved to the rear of the cabin. I picked two seats–one for me, one for him–spaced just far enough apart to scream: do not get cozy.
He noticed.
The flicker of hurt in his eyes was quick, but it was there. Still, he respected the boundary and sat without protest.
Then…silence.
For someone so desperate to explain himself, he suddenly looked like he’d forgotten the English language.
I didn’t rush him. This wasn’t about playing hard to get or being petty about unanswered texts or ghosted gala invitations.
Please. I’ve survived worse betrayals than being left hanging at a charity event.
Way worse.
The truth? I liked it better when Sebastian kept things casual. Cold, even. When he treated us like two adults messing around with no strings and zero expectations. It was safer that way. Cleaner.
Because if I let it become more, if I let myself start hoping, I knew where that road led.
And I wasn’t volunteering for another Xavier-shaped crater in my chest.
His voice finally cut through my thoughts.
“I messed up last night,” he said, soft but certain.
“It’s fine,” I replied breezily, like I was discussing spilled coffee. “No need to beat yourself up. I got out just fine. No rescue mission required p>
He shook his head. “When I realized Mrs. Dahlia was connected to the Moonveil Ascendancy, I went to the mansion. I didn’t know my mother would be there. I was going for you, Cece p>
“Oh. Well, that changes everything,” I said with a smile so fake it could’ve been sponsored by Barbie.
“I heard a message come in, but I didn’t check. My mother called at the same time. I didn’t know it was you p>
“Of course. Total coincidence p>
I nodded with exaggerated understanding. “Must be tough, juggling royal bloodlines and basic phone etiquette p>
He flinched a little but kept going. “I’m not making excuses. Once I knew you were safe, and my mother–” He paused. “I got pulled in. But I should’ve handled it better p>
He looked at me like he was hoping to find something–an opening, a reaction, anything.
I gave him a smile. Bright. Polished. Lethal.
The one I’d spent a year perfecting after Xavier.
The one I used to exile people, emotionally and permanently.
“Affection?” I laughed, light and sharp. “Sebastian, I like you because you’re hot and emotionally unavailable. Not because I think you’re going to leap tall buildings in a single bound p>
He blinked.
“I mean, if my mom had a medical emergency, I’d probably forget your name too,” I said with a casual shrug, though my eyes didn’t quite match the tone.
“But hey, points for effort–you did send Tang to grab me. That was… borderline considerate p>
I tilted my head, letting the silence hang for just a second longer than necessary.
“So really, no hard feelings. We’re good. Ancient history p>
He stared at me like I’d kicked his dog.
I could tell he wanted to say something else–maybe a dozen somethings–but he didn’t.
He just watched me.
Watched me smile that perfect, glossy, I’m-fine smile that meant I wasn’t fine at all.
We returned to our seats, and whatever strange tension had followed us from the apartment to the plane had now shapeshifted into something colder, tighter–professional courtesy, with a side of emotional frostbite.
Across the aisle, Sawyer had been happily playing cards with Tang, looking like a man on vacation. That ended fast.
“Alpha, should I push the meeting back a few hours? You could use some rest,” he asked, hopeful.
Sebastian didn’t even blink. “Ten minutes. That’s when we start p>
“Oh. Right. Of course p>
Sawyer’s casual smile died a quiet death.
Sebastian pressed the intercom and requested black coffee and ice water from Mia, the flight attendant.
Sawyer looked like someone had just canceled Christmas.
He shot me a pleading glance that read:
Couldn’t you have just fake-forgiven him and saved us all?
The cabin, once warm and softly lit, now felt like the emotional equivalent of a meat locker.
Every breath was cold. Every glance, subzero.
I ignored it all.
I worked. I answered emails. I updated files like a good little consultant bot.
For the next seven hours, we slipped into a hyperfocused hell loop of spreadsheets, conference calls, and rapid-fire Slack messages.
Bathroom breaks and tray-table meals were the only signs we were still human.
Sleep? Not on Sebastian’s schedule.
Poor Mia developed under-eye circles darker than my coffee from the sheer volume of his drink orders.
But I wasn’t playing that game.
When my work was done, I ate.
When I was tired, I slept.
And if Sebastian so much as raised an eyebrow about it, he could enjoy my resignation letter as a PDF in his inbox.
Sawyer wasn’t so lucky. Or brave.
By the fifth hour, he was visibly wilting–tapping out reports like he was typing underwater.
During the final stretch, he kept glancing at me across the aisle like I was some mythical creature for managing to nap mid-chaos.
Eventually, he gave up.
His head dropped forward, and he passed out mid-sentence, keyboard lighting up with gibberish.
Finally, silence.
Then–a faint thud. My blanket had slipped to the floor as I shifted in my sleep.
Through a haze of half-dreams, I sensed movement.
A shift in the room. A presence.
Footsteps.
Someone picked up the fallen blanket.
The fabric settled gently over me again.
A pause.
A breath.
And then–warmth.
The softest brush against my cheek. So familiar it could’ve been a dream.
But it wasn’t.
The contact shocked me awake like a caffeine IV to the soul.
I knew it was him.
Sebastian.