Chapter 92

Chapter 92

“Mr. Connor, I’d like to discuss the technical issues further,” Bryan said.

Connor glanced at Camila and instructed, “Why don’t you head to the lounge to relax for a bit?”

The factory manager directed someone to take Camila to the lounge, where some fresh fruit and tea had been prepared.

After organizing her meeting notes in the lounge, Camila shrugged and yawned.She propped her head up to read the product manual, but the more she read, the sleepier she became, eventually dozing off on the desk.

Connor and Bryan exited the meeting room. The factory manager inquired, “Mr. Connor, I’ve arranged a guest room for Camila.”

“Will I be in the usual room?” Bryan asked.

“Yes, you’ll have your usual room, and Camila’s is right next door,” the manager said, handing over the keys to both rooms.

Connor thought for a moment and then said, “There’s no need to arrange a room for her.”

The factory manager paused, then nodded. “Alright.”

“Mr. Connor, you’re not thinking of sending Camila home at this hour, are you?” Bryan glanced at the clock, which showed 8 PM, and frowned.

“She can stay at my place. It’s not really appropriate for a woman to be staying in the men’s lodging area,” Connor suggested.

The factory manager looked puzzled. The men’s lodging area? She would be in a separate guest room, wouldn’t she? Had Mr. Connor misunderstood, thinking Camila’s room was like the other housing with four workers each?

He was about to clarify, but Connor had already started walking away.

“Here’s the key,” Bryan placed the other key on the table, stretching his neck tiredly. “I’m beat. I’ll order some takeout, have a shower, and hit the sack.

Bryan picked up the key from the table and nodded.

Connor opened the door to the lounge and saw Camila asleep at the desk. He frowned slightly as he approached her. Her hands were folded under her head like a diligent student. Her face was turned to the side, her curled eyelashes casting a soft shadow under the light, her nose small and perky.

Connor watched her for a moment, then gently laid his suit jacket over her.

Camila was sleeping soundly, breathing softly. Connor moved to a sofa nearby, crossed his legs, and began reading a product inspection report.

About ten minutes later, his phone rang.

The sound woke Camila up, and she lifted her head groggily. The suit jacket slipped from her shoulders as she looked around, bewildered by the disturbance.

Connor glanced at her and answered the phone, his tone slightly annoyed, “What is it?”

Camila sat up straight, smoothing her hair, and neatly folded the suit jacket.

Connor tugged at his tie, discontentedly saying, “Why are you calling my phone to speak to her?”

“I don’t have her number! And what’s with your attitude? It’s like I owe you money or something,” the person on the other end retorted, clearly irritated by Connor’s inexplicable anger.

Connor stood up, walked over to Camila, and handed her the phone.

Camila’s heartbeat quickened as she looked up into Connor’s dark eyes. “Here, it’s for you,” he said.

As Camila reached for the phone, her slender fingertips accidentally brushed against Connor’s warm fingers, sending a jolt like electricity through both their fingertips, racing to their hearts. Her heart pounded rapidly, almost leaping out of her chest.

Connor’s fingers trembled slightly, and he quickly withdrew them.