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Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

Chapter 367: Just a Vacation Home, Right ? (Page 1/2)

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Chapter 367: Chapter 367 Just a Vacation Home, Right ?Cecilia ’s pov

The rain still hadn’t let up.

If anything, it hit harder now that we were out from under the pines.

They’d acted like a roof, and the second we left their cover, it felt like the storm doubled down.

What should’ve been a forty-minute ride turned into a miserable, hour-and-a-half crawl.

Then we saw it.

Gold. Actual gold.

Tall golden gates creaked open like they’d been waiting for us.

Past them sat a massive estate, wrapped in mist and wildflowers like it had been plucked out of a wedding planner’s Pinterest board.

It was painted navy and ivory. Picture-perfect. The kind of place you’d see in a luxury home magazine.

Beautiful, sure. But fake. Staged. Like someone built it to impress, not to live in.

My jaw clicked. I stared out the window. ”You own that ? Here ? In Colorado Springs ?”

Sebastian didn’t even blink. He turned toward me, calm and smug like he’d been waiting for the question.

”Welcome to my grandmother’s house.”

What.

I sat up straighter. My whole spine locked. ”Your what ?!”

I reached for the door handle. ”Stop the car. I’m serious. Pull over. I need a hotel. Right now.”

The driver didn’t react. He just kept driving, like ignoring my meltdown was part of the job.

Then the rain stopped.

Sunlight broke through the clouds like it had something to prove.

And there it was. A rainbow. Bright, dramatic, and way too proud of itself, hanging over the house like it was here for the show.

Traitor sky.

I pressed my forehead to the window, mentally drafting my escape plan.

Sebastian, naturally, noticed.

”It’s just my grandmother,” he said, voice maddeningly calm.

”She’s your grandmother, Sebastian. I’m in wet jeans and a hoodie. That’s barely acceptable for takeout, let alone meeting a matriarch.”

I took a deep breath. ”Honestly, I should go visit my own family. Same storm, less pressure. My grandma bakes cookies. Yours runs political fundraisers in heels.”

He turned slightly.

”Ms. Moore. This isn’t a vacation.”

Oh, we’re back to ‘Ms. Moore’ now ? Fantastic.

I gave a dry laugh.

”Right. Corporate field trip. Martha Locke’s birthday plus handpicked mates on display. I’m just the intern who thought she was off-duty.”

Ad slot: Chapter read

”Actually, no,” he said, voice steady, like this was already decided.

”We’re here to finalize the Cloud Valley contract. Sawyer’s buried in three deals, and you’re back on call. Your time off ended the second we passed those gates.”

I clenched my jaw. ”You’re serious. You’re seriously putting me back on the clock ?”

”Technically, you were never off. You’re still on assignment. I don’t recall signing a leave request.”

Oh, excellent. Bureaucratic gaslighting. Fun.

”Cool,” I said, voice ice. ”You want work mode ? Great. But I call boundaries. And I reject whatever sleeping arrangement you’ve orchestrated.”

”Accommodation is free,” he said, too fast, too smug. ”Saves the Pack budget.”

I nearly growled. ”I’ll pay out of pocket.”

”What a shame.” He leaned in slightly. ”Unfortunately, my people care about optics. You walking out would look... unprofessional.”

His voice wasn’t loud or angry. Just calm. Certain. Like gravity pulling you whether you like it or not.

”I’m done. I quit.”

”Nope.” He didn’t even blink. ”Not an option.”

”You don’t get to decide that! What are you, King of the Universe ?”

”I’m your boss ,” he said calmly. ”And the files you’re holding ? Classified. Walk off with them, and that’s theft.”

”I swear...” I bit it back before I said something that might cost me employment... or bail.”Those notes are mine. My research. My work.”

”And I trust you,” he said, maddeningly serene. ”But you’re not leaving. Not tonight.”

I didn’t even realize the car had stopped until the silence wrapped around me like a trap.

He didn’t move. Just stared, steady and unreadable.

That quiet kind of dominance that didn’t need volume. Just presence.

Then he did something unexpected.

He placed a hand over mine.

”We’re still doing ‘you’ and ‘me’ ?” he murmured. ”When did we go back to that ?”

I stared down at our hands like they belonged to strangers.

Slowly, I pulled away. ”We never stopped. You just forgot.”

Silence stretched between us, taut and quiet.

Then he exhaled and looked toward the house. ”She’s waiting.”

I frowned. ”Who ?”

He nodded toward the massive oak double doors.

I followed his gaze and groaned.

A woman stood on the wet slate steps. Long beige dress, high neckline, soft waves cascading over her shoulders.

She looked like someone straight out of a fancy home magazine, .

That’s when it hit me.

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