The Platonic Trap novel Chapter 60

Celia smiled brightly, looking the picture of innocence. "Since I won our little game, Charles, would you mind doing me a tiny favor?"

...

When Ken and Alistair arrived at the scene, the first thing Ken saw was Celia sobbing hysterically.

She was drenched to the bone, wrapped tightly in a silver emergency blanket provided by the tactical unit. Her eyes were bloodshot, and massive tears cascaded down her pale cheeks without end.

"Ms. S—"

Before Ken could step forward, Celia spotted them.

"Uncle Alistair!"

Like a terrified child finally finding safe harbor, she threw her arms wide and launched herself directly into the billionaire's firm, lean torso!

The crisp, intoxicating scent of cedar enveloped her. Celia buried her face in his chest, sobbing violently, completely unable to contain her terror.

Her small frame trembled uncontrollably, her soaking clothes instantly ruining his bespoke suit.

Alistair's brows furrowed, but he didn't push her away.

"Uncle Alistair... I was so terrified..."

She was like a drenched, shivering kitten. Desperate for warmth, she just kept burrowing deeper into his arms.

He smoothly unbuttoned his massive suit jacket and draped it over her. It smelled of cold snow and rich cedar, incredibly warm and dry.

"Your team can handle the rest of the cleanup," Alistair ordered, giving a curt nod to the commanding officer of the tactical unit. "I want a detailed debriefing report on my desk once the interrogation is finished."

"Understood, Mr. Zucker."

With his orders given, Alistair looked down at the girl in his arms.

She was still crying. His suit jacket swallowed her whole, leaving only her wet, messy hair visible as she clung to his waist like a lifeline, her shoulders shaking violently.

Alistair knew exactly how trauma worked. If she didn't receive psychological intervention immediately, an incident like this could leave permanent mental scars.

Without a second thought, Alistair leaned down and scooped her up into a princess carry.

She was impossibly light, incredibly soft, and soaking wet—like carrying a fragile, storm-tossed cloud.

He had never held something so delicate in his life.

He wasn't even sure how much pressure to use, terrified he might break her if he held too tight.

His jaw tightened slightly as he offered a low, steadying reassurance. "It's over now."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify