Chapter 165: Learning

Cecilia

When I finally dragged myself back to consciousness, my first coherent thought was that every single muscle in my body hurt.

Not the sharp, alarming kind of pain that meant something was wrong—just this deep, pervasive ache that radiated from my core outward, settling into my hips and thighs and lower back with the persistence of someone who'd run a marathon without training.

I shifted experimentally under the covers, and immediately regretted it when the movement sent a fresh wave of soreness through me.

The space beside me was empty, Arthur's side of the bed cool to the touch in a way that suggested he'd been gone for hours.

I understood, logically—he had a company to run, responsibilities that didn't pause just because he'd spent the previous evening fucking me senseless in my office and then again in his car.

But understanding didn't stop the small pang of disappointment that settled in my chest at his absence.

Then my brain, still foggy from sleep and exhaustion, helpfully reminded me of what I'd said yesterday: Tomorrow. I'll keep my promise then.

Heat flooded my face immediately, embarrassment mixing with a kind of horrified self-awareness that made me want to bury my face in the pillow and never emerge.

What had I been thinking? Making promises like that when I clearly had no idea what my limits actually were, when Arthur's stamina apparently operated on some superhuman level that left me a trembling, incoherent mess?

I groaned into the pillow, my face burning hotter as memories from yesterday played through my mind with vivid, mortifying clarity.

The office. God, the office. I'd actually let him—we'd actually—on my desk, with the door unlocked, where anyone could have walked in and seen—

My hands came up to cover my face even though I was alone, as if that could somehow shield me from the memory of my own choices.

You're an idiot, I told myself firmly. An absolute idiot who clearly overestimated her own abilities and severely underestimated Arthur's.

Another memory surfaced—the car, pulled over on some random residential street, me straddling his lap in the driver's seat while he—

I made a sound that was half groan, half whimper, and seriously considered just staying in this bed forever rather than facing the reality of what I'd done.

A soft knock at the door made me freeze, my hands still covering my burning face.

"Miss Locke?" Mrs. Chen's voice came through, gentle and carefully neutral. "Are you awake? Would you like some food?"

I lowered my hands slowly, taking a breath to steady my voice before responding. "Yes, please. That would be—that would be great, thank you."

"Of course, miss. I'll bring something up right away."

True to her word, Mrs. Chen appeared less than five minutes later carrying a tray laden with what looked like extremely healthy, easy-to-digest options—broth, soft bread, fruit that had been cut into small pieces, herbal tea that smelled faintly medicinal.

"Mr. Winston specifically requested these items," she said as she set the tray down on the bed table, her movements efficient and practiced. "He said you'd need something gentle after—" She paused delicately. "After your busy day yesterday."

My face, which had just started to cool down, immediately flamed hot again. "Thank you, Mrs. Chen."

She smiled with that particular knowing quality that made me want to sink into the mattress and disappear. "Of course, miss. Please let me know if you need anything else."

The food was delicious and soothing, and as I ate I found myself pulling out my phone, snapping a quick photo of the tray and sending it to Arthur with a simple message: Thank you for breakfast. Or lunch.

His response came almost immediately: It's 2:47 PM. How are you feeling?

Sore, I typed back honestly. But okay. The food is perfect.

Good. Rest today. I'll be home by six.

I set the phone down, a warm feeling spreading through my chest despite the lingering embarrassment. Arthur taking care of me, even from the office, making sure I had exactly what I needed—

My phone buzzed with a notification, pulling me from my thoughts.

Daniel's name flashed on the screen, and I opened it to find that he'd sent me approximately twenty different documents overnight, each one labeled with helpful titles like "Basic Investigation Techniques," "Legal Boundaries for Private Investigators," and "Evidence Collection Best Practices."

Curiosity immediately overrode my exhaustion and soreness. I reached for my laptop, settling it carefully on my lap as I pulled up the first document.

Introduction to Investigative Methodology, the header read, and I was immediately absorbed, my eyes scanning the text with growing interest as Daniel laid out the fundamental approaches to conducting thorough, ethical investigations.

Time slipped away as I moved from one document to the next, my mind cataloging information about surveillance techniques, interview strategies, the legal frameworks that governed private investigation work.

I made notes in the margins, highlighted passages that seemed particularly relevant, lost myself completely in this new world I was preparing to enter.

I only became aware of Arthur's presence when I felt fingers gently tugging at my hair, the touch so familiar and affectionate that I looked up automatically—

And found him standing beside the bed, still in his work clothes but with his tie loosened and his jacket gone, looking at me with that particular expression that was equal parts amusement and exasperation.

"Arthur!" I immediately closed the laptop and practically threw myself at him, my arms wrapping around his waist as I pressed my face against his chest. "You're home! I missed you so much!"

His arms came around me automatically, holding me close, but his gaze had already drifted to the laptop. "Did you?" His voice carried that dry tone that meant he was about to tease me. "Couldn't tell from the way you've been glued to that screen."

"I was only absorbed for a little while," I protested, my voice muffled against his shirt.

"A little while?" Arthur repeated, and I could hear the smile in his voice now. "Ceci, baby, look outside."

I pulled back just enough to follow his gesture toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean, and my breath caught at what I saw.

The sea had turned silver-white under the moon's reflection, the water glittering like scattered diamonds against the darkness. The automatic lights had sensed the approaching night and illuminated the grounds with soft, warm glows that made the entire estate look like something out of a dream.

"Oh," I said weakly, my face heating as I realized just how much time had passed. "I—I was very focused."

"Clearly." Arthur's hand came up to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone with infinite gentleness. "You were supposed to be resting, not studying detective work for—" He glanced at his watch. "Five hours straight."

"I was being good," I insisted, even as I felt my face flush hotter. "I was just—learning. That's productive rest, right?"

Arthur's expression shifted into something darker, more heated, and suddenly the air between us felt charged with possibility. "You want to show me how good you can be?"