Chapter 51

DAHLIA

“No.”

His voice was calm. Final. He didn’t even look at me—just adjusted his grip and walked toward the car like he hadn’t just bodily removed me from the restaurant in some overdramatic movie moment.

I squirmed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you’re being stubborn.”

“That’s rich, coming from—Sebastian, put me down.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m not hurt, I’m—”

“You flinched when I touched your shoulder.”

That shut me up.

His jaw was set like stone as he reached the car. The door was already open. He didn’t dump me in—he set me down gently, with care that made my chest twist—but still, I was glaring at him as he buckled me in like some fragile little thing.

“Seatbelt,” he said softly, like it was some kind of apology.

I didn’t look at him. I just yanked the strap into place and turned my face to the window.

We drove in silence for about five minutes. Tension buzzed between us like static. My a