Abandoned Luna Now Untouchable (Cecilia) novel Chapter 33

Cecilia

I rose early, the sky outside still painted in soft shades of gray-blue.

Amara remained asleep, her breathing slow and shallow beneath the sheets.

My stomach growled-sharp and insistent.

I hadn’t eaten since that single bite of cake on the yacht. By three a.m., I’d been-wide awake, hunger gnawing like a restless beast.

After a quiet meal in the near-empty hotel restaurant, I found myself wandering.

The hotel grounds opened into a sprawling tropical garden, wild and carefully curated all at once.

Palm fronds swayed high above, casting shifting shadows across the mossy stone path.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, green leaves, and something sweeter-like jasmine after rain.

stepped beneath the canopy of trees, the morning breeze tugging at the hem of my dress.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves in fractured gold, warming my skin in patches.

For a moment, I closed my eyes.

-No voices. No commands. No eyes watching me like I was something to be claimed.

Just wind, and birdsong, and the faint sound of the world waking up.

The quiet. The breath between storms.

This is what mattered. The world remained vibrant, passionate, and fresh-with or without men or romance in my life.

Footsteps approached-measured, deliberate.

A shadow fell across my face, dimming the morning light behind closed lids.

The air shifted, dense with heat and something unmistakable: the raw musk of a male who had just finished running.

Not cologne.

Alpha Sebastian.

I opened my eyes-and froze.

Sebastian stood inches away, chest rising beneath sweat-darkened black fabric. His skin glistened faintly under the filtered sun.

Everything about him radiated control-except his eyes.

Those eyes were fixed on me:

“Cecilia” he said, voice low, rough at the edges.

“Something wrong with your eyes?”

I stepped back instinctively, heat blooming in my cheeks.

“The sun,” I murmured. “It was too bright. I felt a little dizzy.”

He didn’t move. “Keep staring like that, and you’ll forget how to breathe.” I turned away, embarrassed, suddenly too aware of every inch of my body.

“Do you always run in the mornings?” I asked, desperate for distraction.

A quiet hum of affirmation. He wiped his neck with a towel, gaze never leaving me.

Then, without warning:

“It was you. On the third deck. Watching.”

I blinked. “Watching?”

His silence answered for him.

My chest tightened.

“I wasn’t watching. I went up-l saw you and Amara and I left. I didn’t stay.”

“Doing what?” His tone was flat, but the tension beneath it was tangible.

I swaltowed. “You know what.”

Say it.”

I hesitated. His stare didn’t waver.

“Kissing,” I said. “You were… kissing.”

There. I said it. I hated how raw it sounded in my own voice.

“You saw wrong.”

raised my chin. “Right. Of course. My mistake.”

He didn’t look away. “You don’t believe me.”

“I do.”

“You’re lying.”

The words struck like a blow-not loud, not cruel, but certain.

I opened my mouth. Closed it again.

He stepped closer, and I couldn’t help but feel caged-by his presence, his shadow, the weight of something unspoken.

Sebastian’s gaze didn’t waver.

“I don’t kiss women I don’t want,” he said quietly.

Then, after a pause-measured, deliberate-he added:

“And most of the time… I don’t want women.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “Last night shook you.”

“It was too much,” I admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

I thought of Sebastian’s words-of what he claimed he didn’t want-and my gaze drifted,

– just for a moment, to Sawyer.

Refined, composed, and undeniably handsome.

He caught the look. “Why are you staring at me like that?” I blinked and looked away. “It’s nothing.”

He leaned toward my screen. “What are you looking at?”

“Factory records,” I said. “Payroll. Attendance.”

He frowned. “Something wrong?”

I nodded slowly. “There’s a discrepancy. Every day, two workers are missing from the physical count. Yet the clock-in logs and payroll show full attendance.”

He took the tablet, brows furrowing as he reviewed the data. The mismatch was subtle, easy to miss-buried in the details of appendices most accountants wouldn’t scrutinize.

“In ten years,” I said quietly, “those two ghosts have collected nearly six hundred thousand dollars.”

Beta Sawyer Jooked up. “You think it’s internal?”

“I think it’s systematic. Someone in the factory, maybe someone in accounting. Maybe both.”

“We should tell the Alpha.”

“He’s got the summit tomorrow morning. Let me go down to the factory first. Quietly.” He nodded. “Good call.”

Just as Beta Sawyer and I were speaking, the door to the private room opened behind us.

Footsteps-soft, unhurried-emerged into the hallway.

That sudden shift in presence.

The kind that makes your skin tighten and your breath slow without knowing why.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse.

A man.

His movement stilled the moment he heard us.

His expression flickered-first with tension… then something colder. Sharper.

Not fear.

Something closer to calculation.