The Platonic Trap novel Chapter 122

"Teach me how to organize these files and track the project's progress."

Truthfully, this project was merely a minor offshoot of a subsidiary under his command. It absolutely did not warrant his personal involvement.

Letting out a low chuckle, his voice was raspy and cool. "Celia, this counts as pulling strings."

She resumed fiddling with his cufflinks, her voice soft and slightly hoarse. "Only an idiot wouldn't use connections when they have them."

Pausing for a moment, she added, "Besides, I really need you."

Rubbing his thumb against his index finger, he allowed her to play with his sleeve.

Outside, the torrential rain finally showed signs of letting up.

His gaze remained cool, his tone entirely even. "Alright."

...

The storm was too heavy that night, so Alistair stayed at the Manor.

After taking the medication prescribed by her doctor, a wave of exhaustion washed over Celia. Bidding him goodnight, she headed up to her room on the third floor to rest.

Alistair's bedroom was on the second floor, adjacent to his study.

Inside the study, his eyes were cold and focused as he reviewed the documents in his hands.

He hadn't paid much attention to the project Larry Lambert was managing. It was merely a new trial run; whether it lost money or not, it would serve as a learning experience for Zucker Corp.

In other words, he had never expected it to be profitable.

Tonight, he was going through all the files related to the project, re-organizing them from scratch.

—Using this as a teaching tool for her wasn't a bad idea.

Closing the folder, he turned to his laptop and began drafting the operational direction for the project's next phases, outlining exactly what he intended to teach her.

Ken Linden had stayed behind in Seaport City to handle the remaining trivial matters and wouldn't be back in the Capital for a while.

Once he finished, Alistair shut the laptop and went to his bedroom.

He didn't stay at the Aerie Manor often, so most of the furnishings here were brand new.

After showering, he changed into a bathrobe, using a towel to dry his damp hair.

His gaze naturally dropped to his own arm.

Reacting a beat too late, she nodded slowly and mumbled an agreement.

After changing into proper clothes, she made her way down to the dining room and took the seat right next to him.

"Why are you up so early?" she asked, her voice thick and nasal from the congestion.

Taking a sip of his milk, he replied calmly, "The staff mentioned you haven't been eating breakfast these past few days, so I had the chef prepare it early."

Celia muttered a low retort. "Capitalist..."

He heard it clear as day. A slow, effortless smirk tugged at his lips. "This capitalist bought you your favorite artisan pastries from South Street."

Glancing at the pastries, she softened her tone. "You're the best..."

His smirk deepened slightly. "Take a sick day today. You don't need to go into the office."

Celia wanted to argue, but he shut it down immediately.

After breakfast, Alistair drove to the office, instructing her to get some extra rest.

She had just started walking up the stairs when Larry Lambert's call came through.