Chapter 254 You Two Make a Beautiful Couple

Serena Sinclair's POV:

"Your cousin," he said evenly. "The one who was lured abroad."

"Oh, that." I shifted in my seat, surprised he knew about Laura's situation.

"Professor Steven called you?" I asked, realizing the connection.

Phillip nodded, his expression unreadable. "He mentioned your cousin's situation and suggested I might be able to help."

I sighed, suddenly understanding his concern. A hint of defensiveness rose in me, making my spine straighten slightly.

"I didn't intend to ask for your help," I said, fidgeting with my water glass on the table. The cool crystal felt solid and grounding beneath my fingertips. "I want what's between us to be just about us, not complicated by other interests or favors."

Something changed in Phillip's expression—a tension I hadn't noticed before seemed to ease from his shoulders. He took my hand in his, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my palm.

"You thought I reconciled with you because I needed your help?" I asked, the realization dawning on me.

"The thought crossed my mind," he admitted, his voice low but steady.

"That's not who I am," I said firmly, holding his gaze. "If I wanted to use your connections, I would have asked directly. I believe in keeping things clear between us."

Phillip nodded, and I could see relief in his eyes, making them a clearer, warmer blue. "Do you know which country she was taken to?" he asked, his tone softening.

"No, we don't know. Richard and Jessica are staying at my apartment now. His mother essentially helped Laura leave against Richard's wishes, and now they're being extorted for money." I ran a hand through my tousled hair, still messy from sleep. "The whole situation is putting strain on their marriage."

"I've already started an investigation," he said matter-of-factly. "I need more details if we're going to find her."

The "we" didn't escape my notice—his problems were becoming our problems, naturally and without fanfare. I nodded in agreement, appreciating his directness.

"Her name is Laura. She graduated from Brown University, she's 22, but I don't have much information, not even which country she's in." I bit my lip, feeling the weight of the situation. "With so little information, it must be extremely difficult to find her? I honestly don't have high hopes."

"As long as she's alive, I can find her," Phillip stated with quiet confidence that seemed neither boastful nor uncertain. He squeezed my hand gently. "Don't worry too much."

I nodded gratefully, feeling a warmth spread through my chest at his assurance.

"Being so formal with me?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Without overthinking it, I stood and walked over to him, settling naturally onto his lap. My arms found their way around his neck, and I felt his hands rest comfortably on my waist. The simple intimacy of the gesture felt right, as if we'd been doing this for years rather than mere weeks.

"You promised to take me to see the ocean," I said, looking directly into his eyes. "Are we still going?"

"Yes," he replied, his gaze warming. "Arrangements are being made. We'll leave soon, once James is stable enough."

I briefly thought of James in his hospital bed, feeling a pang of guilt that he'd been injured while trying to help us reconcile. "How is James doing?"

"Better. The doctors say he's responding well to treatment." Phillip's hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture tender and familiar.

"You can't talk sense into someone determined to make a mistake," I mused, thinking back to Laura's situation. I rested my head against his shoulder, taking comfort in his solid presence. "I tried to warn her when she came to me for advice, but she wouldn't listen. I don't understand why people think they can easily make fortunes abroad when educated people can find good work domestically. They're so naive, believing going overseas is a magical solution that will bring instant wealth."

I shook my head slightly. "And now Laura's paying the price for that naivety."

Phillip held me closer, effectively stopping my worried rambling. "I think we should visit Professor Steven before we leave," he suggested, his voice a gentle rumble I could feel against my cheek. "He's been asking about us."

"There's no time like the present," I agreed, lifting my head to meet his gaze. "Let's go see Professor Steven today. Before something else complicates things."

He pulled me against his chest, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, "Whatever you want."

The doorbell's sudden chime interrupted our moment. I moved to answer it, but Phillip stopped me with a gentle hand.

"Stay seated. I'll get it."

I watched as he crossed the room with fluid confidence, his bare feet silent against the hardwood. He accepted several containers from the delivery person, dismissing them with a nod before bringing the food to the dining area. The rich aroma of traditional porridge filled the air, making my stomach growl in anticipation.

"Eat up," he said, placing a bowl of steaming porridge in front of me.

I hadn't realized how hungry I was until the rich aroma hit me. The first spoonful was a revelation—savory century egg and tender pork complemented the silky congee perfectly.

"This might be the best porridge I've ever had," I admitted between bites, savoring the complex flavors. "Which restaurant is this from? How is the meat so tender?"

"It's from an upscale restaurant," Phillip replied, clearly pleased by my enthusiasm. "I'll take you there often."

The intimacy of sharing breakfast in his apartment, wearing his shirt, discussing future plans as if they were certainties—it all felt surreal yet right. After my divorce from Alex, I'd convinced myself that such domestic happiness wasn't in my future.

He passed me an elegant pastry next, its delicate layers promising something special.

"What is this?" I asked, examining it curiously.

"Try it first," he encouraged, watching me with undisguised interest.

The pastry practically melted in my mouth—buttery, rich, yet impossibly light. "It's soft and delicate, looks like a gourmet pastry but tastes rich like bone marrow," I described, savoring another bite. "How is it made?"

Phillip shrugged slightly. "I don't know."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Of course, how would you know anything about cooking?"

He put down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and fixed me with an amused look. "Is making fun of me entertaining?"

"I'm just joking," I clarified, smiling back at him.

After we finished, I stood to clear the table. "Change your clothes so we can head out."

The world outside was transformed by ice and snow, but the main roads had been cleared enough for travel. I checked my watch—not quite 9 AM.

"Let's go buy some French pastries for Professor Steven," I suggested, and Phillip agreed with a simple, "Okay."

At the small French bakery, the baker recognized me immediately, his face lighting up with a genuine smile. "Ah, Mademoiselle! We haven't seen you in a while."

"Yes, work has been busy," I explained, returning his smile. "Haven't been in this area."

"Your usual pain au chocolat?" he asked, already reaching for the display case.

"Yes, two of the usual please."

As he handed me the elegantly packaged pastries, the baker smiled at Phillip standing beside me. "This must be your husband? You two make a beautiful couple."