Cecilia Meaning Novels & Stories

If this was the Uncle M they were talking about, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be helped again. “Cecilia,” the man called out, and the woman nodded, going to him. “He is one of the only people allowed to call her that.” Sheryl whispered next to her. “She doesn’t like just anyone addressing her by her given name. According to her, the name makes her look soft, and soft is the last thing she wants to be perceived as.” “It’s been long.” Uncle M said, holding unto her arms. “How have you been?” “I have been swamped with work and all, but overall it’s been fine. How about you?”

“I told you already.” I smirked. “You did, but I don’t believe a single word of it.” I retorted. I entangled my fingers in her hair and pulled her head further back. “I’ll give you one last chance,” I whispered. “Who are you?” Cecilia blinked at me. “I-I’m an Omega that was sold to the auction house.” She whispered. “And your hair?” I asked. “Covered in soot from the fireplace.” She replied. “I slept there when the nights were cold.”

"No, no! I mean.. I mean. It's an honor to me, My lady.... Can I call you 'Chili' instead? I'm still impressed with your appetite in Dandelion." "Cecilia… Ce… Cilia.. Chili! Wow! You have good sense. Yes, you are right. I like spicy food." Beside, she feels like it was special and original. Old Cecilia doesn't like spicy things. It's look like that name was especially made for her. For once, she feels like she was being a part of this world as herself. Not a daughter of powerfull Duke. "Me too. Too bad the Capital doesn't sell it."

"I am Alpha Ezekiel, this is the Bloodhound pack. And you are a rouge in my house, surrounded by my warriors, and my pack of 1500 men. You're not the one with the power here, I am. So when I ask a question I except it answered. Now. Who. Are. You?" I clenched my jaw in frustration, he was right. I had no power. No choice. He could do anything to me right now. And I wouldn't have any help or any way to stop him. I nearly reached at the thought. I was fucked. Royally. With that in mind I responded to his question; "Cecil." "And where did you came from? Are there any more like you?" He fired the questions in quick succession. "The East Coast, I travel alone and have not come across another fema

The man stepped back, then sat down and leaned against the headboard. Cecilia was silent for a few seconds, as if trying to remember where she’d left off at the bar earlier. “Maria. I hate Maria!” she cried out. “Ahh. So her name is Maria. That lucky one?” “Riiiiggghht. She’s lucky she married a conglomerate heir. Even being born as the child of a mistress is already too lucky for her. Thanks to that, she became a conglomerate heir’s daughter.” Cecilia laughed sarcastically.

I asked. "Everything. Cecilia is a professional model, Caucasian, five nine, with a soft, luminous complexion that photographs exceptionally well. She’s twenty-four, currently Miss Atlantic Elegance, and has picked up two international runway awards in the past three years.” We look each other in the eye and she doesn't waver. Her cheeks were tight, just enough to tell me she wasn’t thrilled about being put through this little exercise. “Her father is a retired diplomat, her mom runs a private art foundation. She’s well educated, well mannered and notably no history of public or private relationships.” she added, raising a foot to take off the shoe, but changed her mind.

Her forehead was creased. Istra responded, "Could be to become their servant or bride." "Bride?" She could not believe her ears. "Or someone they sense having a dark soul." He stated. Cecilia went mute with shock and fear. Someone having a dark soul? What did he mean by that? She was not a wicked person. She didn't have a dark soul; She could never possess one. Mustering courage, she said. "I don't think I'm for any of the aforementioned. Let's go get this scent off of me."