The Platonic Trap novel Chapter 79

Completely oblivious to the man standing just beyond the doors, Talbot stared down at Celia.

The girl's eyes were swimming with tears. She bit her trembling lower lip, the corners of her eyes flushing a delicate, heartbreaking pink, looking utterly devastated.

Seeing her break down, Talbot frowned deeply, the cruel insults dying in his throat.

"Celia, what right do you have to act like the victim here?" Talbot scolded, though his voice lacked its previous venom. "Evelyn doesn't come from money. She fought tooth and nail to build her life, and because of your petty jealousy, she was thrown in a cell! This is going to be on her permanent record!"

"You're a spoiled heiress who's never had to work a day in her life. Do you honestly not feel the slightest bit of guilt for what you've done to her?"

Celia obviously didn't feel a shred of guilt.

Considering the fact that in her past life, Evelyn had reclaimed her status as the true Stafford heiress and partnered with Talbot to lock Celia in a psychiatric ward, Celia felt she was being practically saintly right now.

She could hear the steady, commanding footsteps approaching from behind.

Lowering her long lashes, Celia spoke in a breathless, fragile whisper. "But Talbot... I'm your fiancée. Dragging her to a hotel suite right in front of me... it's just so humiliating..."

To Talbot's massive ego, her soft, pleading tone was a total surrender.

Sighing heavily, he rubbed his temples in exasperation. "Celia, why is your mind always in the gutter?"

"I already told you, I just brought her here so she could shower and freshen up. Did I ever say we were sleeping together?"

He shot her a look of supreme disgust. "I guess dirty minds see dirt everywhere."

Celia kept her head bowed, playing the silent, broken fiancé perfectly.

Taking a deep breath, Talbot arrogantly held out his hand toward her. "Give it to me."

Celia blinked, looking up at him in feigned confusion. "Give you what?"

"The cufflinks you bought for me," Talbot demanded impatiently. "Weren't you trying to apologize? Where are they?"

A flash of perfect, helpless panic crossed Celia's eyes as she frantically shook her head. "No... they aren't for you..."

She was still injured. Her right arm was cradled awkwardly against her chest, the pristine white fabric of her blouse blooming with fresh, unmistakable spots of blood.

She hadn't changed her bandages this morning.

"Uncle Alistair..."

Glancing up at the devastatingly handsome man behind her, Celia quickly dropped her gaze back to the floor, sounding utterly defeated.

Alistair didn't acknowledge her right away. Instead, his freezing gaze swept over Talbot, before briefly landing on Evelyn, who was still cowering silently in the background. "It appears a few nights in a cell did absolutely nothing to improve your moral compass."

Evelyn physically flinched, shrinking into herself and not daring to breathe a word.

Talbot's jaw tightened. Despite his fear, his bruised ego wouldn't let him back down completely. "Mr. Zucker, you're misunderstanding the situation. I was simply asking Celia for what belongs to me."

"What belongs to you?" Alistair repeated slowly, the words rolling off his tongue like a death sentence.