CHAPTER 130: CHAPTER 130: BLAKE SINCLAIR’S OTHER SIDE REVEALED

The night enveloped the entire Beldon.

The sliding door of the balcony was open, and the night breeze, carrying a chill, quietly slipped in, slightly moving the sheer curtain and casting a wavering shadow on the floor.

Blake Sinclair stood frozen, only his heart pounding wildly in his chest, almost leaping out of his ribs.

In the shadow leading from the living room to the bedroom, Holly stood there in a silky nightgown, her slender figure almost blending into the night, like a beam of moonlight ready to dissipate at any moment.

She stood there motionless.

Her eyes, usually filled with laughter and teasing, were now fixed on him in the dark, inscrutable, yet seeming to draw him in.

All the unease and restlessness of the evening turned into a surge of panic at this moment, reaching its peak.

When had she been standing there?

How much had she overheard?

Had it been while he was on the phone with Shannon?

Or even earlier?

Countless questions turned into tiny needles piercing his temples, his thoughts in disarray, almost unable to think.

Holly stepped out from the shadows, moonlight spilling over her, illuminating her sleep-deprived face.

"You..."

"You...."

They both spoke at the same time, then both paused.

Blake Sinclair took a big step forward, grabbing her hand and wrapping it in his palm, his thumb gently rubbing her knuckles, his voice trembling slightly, "Why are you up?"

He asked gingerly.

Holly’s eyelashes fluttered, tinged with sleepy confusion.

She had just been dreaming, dreaming of the look Shannon gave her during the live broadcast.

Then the scene shifted; she was surrounded by a flock of black swallows, their wings brushing against her face, sending a chill down her spine and waking her with a start.

By instinct, her hand reached to her side, only to find it cold.

Groggily, she got out of bed in the dark, following the sound to the balcony.

"Turned over and saw you weren’t there."

Still groggy, she leaned into Blake Sinclair’s embrace with sleepiness.

Holly nuzzled against his slightly cool pajamas, her voice sticky and soft, "Why did you suddenly get up? Came to the balcony to catch the breeze?"

Blake Sinclair’s Adam’s apple bobbed, letting out a vague sound.

He wrapped his arms around her, feeling slightly at ease.

Yet he couldn’t help but ask, "...When did you come out?"

Holly sensed a hint of unusual tension in his voice, looked up at him with sleepy eyes, "You seem a bit nervous, Mr. Sinclair? Why, are you secretly up to some mischief behind my back?"

She pinched Blake Sinclair’s chin, swaying it from side to side, then stood on tiptoe to meet his gaze.

Blake Sinclair looked into her eyes, pure and gentle, so close to him.

The darkness and cold calculations in his heart, along with the harshness from the phone call earlier, dissipated in an instant.

He chuckled lightly, rubbing his chin against the top of her head, "Yes, wanted to do something bad, didn’t succeed."

"Oh." Holly blinked, "No wonder you were being so sneaky. Tell me, what mischief were you planning? Let me see if I can approve it."

Blake Sinclair led her inside, closed the balcony door halfway, shutting out half the cool breeze.

"Holly, there’s something I’ve never told you."

Seemingly after a long inner struggle, he sighed.

The seriousness in his tone dispelled most of Holly’s sleepiness.

Watching his rare expression of conflict and hesitation, and thinking about his unusual behavior of being on the balcony alone late at night, her curiosity was piqued.

Blake Sinclair led her to the living room sofa to sit down, then turned on the chandelier switch.

The warm yellow light spread, illuminating the sofa and the vase beside the coffee table.

The lychee blossoms in the vase were in full bloom, the petals layered and still adorned with undried droplets of water.

Blake Sinclair turned to the cabinet behind them, opened a drawer, and paused his hand mid-air as he touched a brown box inside.

But in the end, he returned with the box, placing it on the coffee table and pushing it toward her, "Open it and see."

Holly picked up the box and shook it, hearing the sound of metal clanging inside.

She opened the lid, finding several unopened packs of Caprilon cigarettes and a silver Cartier lighter.

Holly picked up a cigarette pack, looked at it, and then at Blake Sinclair, not understanding, "So you came out in the middle of the night just to smoke?"

Blake Sinclair didn’t speak, just looked at her.

Holly thought she had guessed correctly.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little, incredulous, "I didn’t expect the great President Sinclair, perfect and disciplined with no smoking or drinking in public, would sneak out for a smoke in the middle of the night?"

Blake Sinclair let out a helpless laugh, took the cigarettes from her hand, placed them back in the box, and closed it, "Didn’t smoke."

He spoke softly, with a hint of complexity in his words.

Holly gently nudged his shoulder, probing, "What’s there to hide from me? Do you think I’d laugh at you for this?"

Blake Sinclair turned his head and looked at her seriously, his amber eyes appearing particularly deep and focused under the warm light, "Because you don’t like men who smoke."

Holly was taken aback, "Huh?"

She had hated the smell of smoke for a long time.

When she was young, Josephine Lennon and Jasper Crowe were busy with school, leaving her at Port Kallow with her grandparents.

But the elderly couple were busy with the fields and the ceramics factory, so they entrusted her to a retired old lady in the village for care.

The elderly lady’s husband was a heavy smoker, who hugged cheap cigarettes every day and smoked at the doorstep while she played nearby, inhaling secondhand smoke for over half a year. Later, she coughed and caught a cold, causing her family great distress, so they never let her go there again.

Since then, Holly felt nauseated whenever she smelled smoke, and Jasper Crowe quit smoking because of it.

During the years she was with Zion Pence, he initially refrained from smoking in front of her, but later... people change easily, don’t they?

Holly looked at the man in front of her, feeling a gentle nudge at the softest part of her heart, leaving it tingling.

"I don’t think I’ve ever told you..."

"Dad mentioned it once."

Holly asked, "But I haven’t seen you smoke before, have I?"

Blake Sinclair averted his gaze, looking at the box, his voice somewhat drifting, "I don’t, really. In total, I’ve only smoked twice."

"So why do you feel like smoking tonight?"

"Because...." He paused, seeming to change what he initially intended to say.

He turned around to look at her, intentionally frowning, disguising his words with an aggrieved tone, "Because I’ve felt too jealous tonight, and it’s making me feel really bitter inside."

Holly exclaimed, deliberately rubbing her arms, "Oh Blake, you’re so cheesy."

Blake Sinclair let out a low laugh, his chest vibrating, and the laughter eased the stagnant night, dispelling the gloom from his heart slightly.

He tapped the box a couple of times, his expression very solemn again: "Holly, I’m showing you this because I want to tell you that Blake Sinclair might not be as flawless as the world perceives him. He gets jealous, angry, drinks, and smokes, and even...."

He paused, leaving the latter part unsaid, but Holly understood a deeper meaning from his gaze.

It was a side he never shown before.

Perhaps it was a shadowy one.

Not so open and aboveboard.

"So what?" Holly moved closer to him, looking into his eyes.

She gently poked his tense face, looking at him teasingly with curiosity, "Blake Sinclair, do you actually have moments of insecurity like this?"

Blake Sinclair clasped her mischievous hand, "With you, I’m never that confident."

He held her hand, his fingers exerting a slight pressure, "This version of me, would you still like me as you did before?"

Holly looked at the tension in his eyes, feeling a sudden urge to tease him.

She deliberately pursed her lips, not directly addressing his question.

Pulling her hand back, she got up and waved the air twice, "I’m sleepy, I’m going to bed."

Blake Sinclair’s heart sank, and he grabbed her hand, wanting an answer.

Holly looked back at him, her eyes hiding a smile, but she didn’t speak.

She let him hold her hand as she walked towards the bedroom.

Blake Sinclair was afraid she might trip if she walked too fast, so he had to follow her closely.

Only he knew that his words earlier were serious.

In front of her, all his calm composure and strategic planning were easily shattered.

In front of her, all pretense would disappear, leaving only the most primal desire.

The bedroom door was shut from the inside.

Blake Sinclair leaned down and pressed Holly against the door panel.

He didn’t touch her lips, just brushed noses with hers. His breath carried a faint scent of cedar, "Holly, tell me."

Holly stood on tiptoe and leaned in, the answer in her heart rushing to her lips, "What I’ve always liked was never the prestigious Yarrow of the Sinclair Family as the world says."

Her fingers traced up his wrist and stopped at his collar, tugging lightly, "What I like is Blake Sinclair, who gets nervous, gets jealous, hides cigarette boxes from me, and fears I might not like him..."

A bit of moonlight streamed in, falling on her eyelashes.

Blake Sinclair looked at the person before him, his voice hoarse, "Really?"

Holly suddenly smiled, giving him a light peck on the lips, "You guess."

Blake Sinclair’s breath became erratic.

He wrapped her waist, whispering against her ear, "I won’t guess. I want to hear you say it again."

The moonlight cast a soft glow on the floor.

The box on the coffee table silently conveyed some untold secrets.

The night breeze blew in through the balcony door that wasn’t fully closed, hitting the vase directly, making it sway gently, and the pink litchi petals inside quivered precariously.

This time the wind was stronger, causing the petals to shudder violently, and the blossoms at the outermost edges could not hold on, falling from the calyx.

First one petal, then two, finally several spun down to the floor, curling slightly.

The moonlight slanted gently, illuminating the scattered pink confection on the ground.

The night breeze continued to blow, and a few more petals fell, while the breaths in the bedroom were already so intertwined they were inseparable.