<h4>Chapter 178: Chapter 178 Possessive Alpha</h4>


    Cecilia’s pov


    I was suddenly pulled against a wall of solid muscle.


    Sebastian’s dominant scent invaded every pore of my body.


    The pressure around my waist tightened gradually, and cool, slender fingers gently tilted my chin upward until I met his eyes, narrowed and gleaming with dangerous intensity.


    "Why are you so eager to get her out?" His voice was unusually gentle.


    He meant Harper. The girl I’d just dragged out of the house like a human shield.


    "...To protect me." I grimaced, my expression pleading.


    Sebastian leaned down, his face hovering inches from mine.


    His warm breath carried the scent of whiskey as it brushed against my cheek. "What do you need protection from, Ms. Moore? What danger are you facing that I can’t handle myself?"


    His voice was deep and indulgent, almost tender, but the grip on my waist told apletely different story.


    Oh crap. He’s genuinely angry.


    I quickly wrapped my arms around his, "Don’t be upset. Let’s go somewhere else, and I’ll exin everything." I offered him my sweetest smile.


    He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against mine for a brief, possessive moment before pulling back with a wounded tone. "Ms. Moore, I saw everything with my own eyes. What could you possibly exin?"


    With that, he released me and walked away. I steadied myself.


    Watching his retreating figure, I had a moment of disbelief.


    Sebastian stopped by the car.


    When he noticed I hadn’t followed, he turned, standing with elegant poise, his expression unreadable as he gazed at me.


    I sighed internally.


    "Sebastian." I softened my voice.


    When he remained silent, I bit my lip and tried again with a deliberately sweet tone, "Sebas~"


    Sebastian’s wounded expression finally eased somewhat, though notpletely.


    He said tly, "Get in the car."


    "Sure thing. I haven’t been drinking--I’ll drive." Knowing I was in the wrong, I eagerly yed the role of servant, retrieving the car keys from his pocket and opening the door for him. The back door...


    His expression darkened again.


    With a nk face, he walked to the passenger seat and got in. I was speechless.


    Wasn’t sitting in the back safer for him?


    I felt a surge of frustration.


    I slid into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine, the low hum barely covering the sigh I let out.


    We’d gotten out of the neighborhood in one piece, which already felt like a minor miracle.


    But five minutes into the drive, the silence broke.


    "I don’t want to go home," Sebastian said, his voice low and dramatic, as if he were the tragic hero in a Gothic novel.


    I shot him a nce. "Okay... and where exactly would Your Brooding Highness prefer to go?"


    "Anywhere but that apartment."


    I raised a brow. "You’re pouting."


    "I’m unhappy."


    I exhaled through my nose. "What do you need? A pint of ice cream? A hug? A dramatic monologue about the moon? Tell me what soothes the savage Alpha."


    He didn’tugh. He didn’t even blink.


    Just stared out the window like I’d killed his goldfish.


    I groaned. "Fine. Where do you want to go?"


    He rattled off an address like he’d been waiting for me to ask. I slowed and tapped it into the GPS.


    We passed a convenience store. I was about to keep going when he spoke again.


    "Didn’t you say something about ice cream?"


    I blinked. "Seriously?"


    He didn’t answer. Just fixed me with a stare that was both petnt and immovable.


    I sighed, made a dramatic U-turn, and pulled into the nearest convenience store.


    Five minutester, I tossed him a pint of mint chocte chip and put the car back in drive.


    We drove in rtive silence until the GPS announced our arrival.


    A sprawling modern house, secluded and sleek. Of course. Nothing less for the grand performance of his sulk..


    It was surrounded by high white walls thatpletely obscured the interior.


    As we approached, security cameras automatically scanned us, and the ck iron gate opened.


    Once inside, I could see a well-maintained garden surrounding a ss and steel structure--not particrly tall, but designed with striking elegance, like a luxurious greenhouse.


    Him having multiple properties wasn’t surprising.


    But this ce didn’t seem like his style at all. I parked the car.


    We got out and entered the ss structure.


    When the lights came on, the interior was breathtakingly beautiful, the ss surfaces gleaming magnificently under the illumination. I looked around in wonder.


    Sebastian had already sat down.


    "Okay," I said quietly, "about earlier--I didn’t know Simon was going to show up."


    He gave a slow nod, but didn’t look at me. "Sure. Totally normal for a guy to just randomly tag along to his mom’s dinner invite."


    I frowned. "Sebastian. It wasn’t nned. My mom didn’t even know."


    He finally nced at me. "But you two seem... familiar."


    I blinked. "We used to live next door. He was around when we were kids."


    "So he’s the childhood friend with a long-lost crush."


    He said it like he was reading from a viin origin story.


    I raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously doing this right now?"


    He leaned back, arms still crossed. "Just trying to get the full picture. You looked...fortable around him."


    "Sebastian? Please. We’ve known each other since we were kids. He’s practically family."


    "Family?"


    The word dripped off his tongue like it personally offended him.


    I winced. "Okay, fine. Mr. Foster. I’ll call him Mr. Foster from now on. Happy?"


    His fingers slipped between mine, warm and deliberate. "I heard you’re nning to meet him again."


    I tensed. "It’s just coffee."


    He leaned in slightly, voice low, almost amused. "Next time, bring me along."


    A pause. His eyes locked on mine.


    "I’d like to meet Mr. Foster. I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine."


    My brain short-circuited somewhere between panic and a very inappropriate mental image.


    I squeezed his hand back, hard enough to prove a point.My smile dropped, reced with the kind of serious expression people wear when swearing oaths in courtrooms.


    "Meeting? What meeting? There’s no meeting. That was just dinner-table diplomacy. Empty words. If I see him again, I’ll change sidewalks. Heck, I’ll move ZIP codes."


    His eyes lit up, storm clouds clearing in real time.


    The corners of his mouth lifted. He was sunshine after rain.


    I exhaled, finally.


    Crisis: averted.


    He raised our joined hands to his lips, brushing a kiss over my knuckles.


    Then his other hand came up to my cheek--warm, slow.


    His thumb traced my skin as he leaned in, breath soft but charged.


    The look in his eyes said everything: smug, sweet, and maybe just a little possessive.