Chapter 230

Cecilia's pov I woke slowly, my head fuzzy and pounding just enough to make me hate myself. The ceiling above me wasn't familiar. This wasn't my room. Panic flared, sharp and immediate. Before I could do more than grip the sheets tighter, I heard footsteps. I turned my head--and nearly choked. Sebastian stepped out of the walk-in closet, fully dressed in a deep navy three-piece suit that looked like it had been tailored by a god and paid for in blood. He looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ, not in the same room as me--bed-headed, hungover, and very much wearing nothing but a robe. Wait. Scratch that. I was the one in the robe. A thick, plush hotel-grade one that definitely wasn't mine. "...Morning," I croaked, my voice embarrassingly rough. "Morning," he replied, calm as ever. "You got drunk at the party last night. Then threw up in your room. I moved you here--yours needed a, let's say, biohazard-level cleaning." I blinked. Twice. My brain was still slogging through molasses. "