The Platonic Trap novel Chapter 81

With a slightly cold tone, Alistair Zucker deftly unwound the gauze, his movements clean and efficient.

Celia raised an eyebrow slightly, picking up on the subtle shift in his mood.

Suppressing the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, the young woman maintained her pitiful expression. Hearing the man's brief reply, she let out a quiet, muffled "Oh."

His long, articulated fingers discarded the old bandages, retrieved an ointment from the medical kit, and squeezed it onto a cotton swab.

Taking the hint, Celia leaned forward, offering her arm toward him.

Alistair didn't say a word. He loosely cradled her arm with one hand while applying the medication with the other.

The massive room was completely silent, save for the sound of their shared breathing.

Because of his half-kneeling posture, the impeccably tailored suit he wore bunched around his waist in elegant creases.

For practicality, Alistair had rolled up his sleeves a few inches, revealing a pristine white dress shirt underneath, devoid of any cufflinks.

The white buttons glinted sharply in the sunlight.

Celia lowered her gaze, her eyes trailing from the man's forearm up to his devastatingly handsome face.

It was a face of such severe, transcendent beauty. Celia had seen her fair share of attractive men, but none of them could hold a candle to Alistair.

The sunlight slashed across his features, casting half his face in shadow. He had a strong, high bridge of the nose and eyes that were deep and impassive.

He was entirely focused on treating her wound, completely missing the calculating gleam in her eyes and the faint smirk on her lips.

"Hiss—"

Celia drew a sharp breath, instinctively trying to yank her arm away.

The hand supporting her arm instantly locked down, his long fingers closing in an inescapable grip.

Her arm was slender and pale; Alistair's hands were large, easily wrapping all the way around her forearm.

His grip turned her skin slightly white.

Alistair immediately realized this and loosened his hold, though he still didn't let her pull away.

Celia bit her lip softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she put on a pitiful voice. "It hurts..."

Alistair's thin lips pressed into a tight line.

"He ruined the surprise. He spoiled the gift I got for you, so I'm upset," she told him earnestly.

He stopped wrapping the bandage.

A brief flash of emotion crossed Alistair's eyes, gone as quickly as it came. He lowered his gaze slightly, resuming his movements.

"What gift?"

"This."

Using her uninjured hand, Celia grabbed her slightly scuffed purse and fished out a blue velvet box. Cupping it with both hands, her eyes sparkling, she offered it to the man in front of her.

The wound was fully dressed.

Alistair stared at the small box presented to him, completely still.

He was still half-kneeling on the floor.

If someone who didn't know the situation were to walk in right now, they might have thought it was a marriage proposal.