CHAPTER 188: CHAPTER 188: ARE YOU THINKING OF CHEATING, MRS. SINCLAIR?

Leon’s eyes widened slightly.

Now it was his turn to be surprised, clearly not expecting this situation.

But he quickly reacted and said with a smile, "So we’re both wandering souls in a foreign land, huh?"

Holly was amused, the chill brought by the night breeze seemed to lessen a bit: "I suppose so."

"The night wind is strong, you should go up quickly, don’t catch a cold."

Leon pulled up the collar of his trench coat, "I’ll call my mom in a bit, tell her not to meddle anymore, to you go home quickly and stop bothering Uncle and Aunt."

Holly nodded, feeling warm inside: "Okay, see you then."

She waved her hand, turned around to go upstairs.

"Holly,"

Leon suddenly called her, his tone serious, "Marriage requires two people to work at it together, conflicts are inevitable, don’t give up easily. I hope we both have a beautiful future."

Holly’s steps halted, feeling like something gently bumped her heart, warm and tender.

She turned her head to look at Leon, and smiled: "You too."

She watched Leon take out his phone to make a call while walking toward the community entrance, until he disappeared at the corner.

A cold wind blew by, she instinctively hugged her arms tightly, shrugged off the chill, and turned to go upstairs.

Just as she turned, a hand reached from behind and grabbed her wrist.

Caught off guard, she staggered and fell into the arms of the person behind her.

"Ah!"

Holly cried out in surprise, instinctively struggling, her elbow jabbing back, her hands flailing to push the person away.

But as soon as she caught a familiar scent of cedar, she stopped abruptly, her body instinctively relaxing.

Blake Sinclair found she wasn’t struggling anymore, tightened his grip, holding her firmly in his arms.

His breath was warm, falling on the crook of her neck.

Another hand gripped her chin, forcing her to slightly turn her head.

The next second, he lowered his head and kissed her lips.

The kiss was full of possession, hot and tangled, as if venting a long-suppressed emotion, seeming to rob her of her last breath.

Holly felt dizzy from the kiss, her limbs were weak, almost suffocating.

Finally, he retreated slightly, giving her a moment to catch her breath.

Holly’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes glistening, but before she could speak, Blake Sinclair lifted her in his arms and threw her over his shoulder.

"Blake Sinclair! What are you doing! Put me down!"

Holly exclaimed, not daring to shout too loudly, only able to pound on his back.

They were right below the apartment complex!

Blake Sinclair ignored her, striding with long legs over to a Rolls-Royce parked in the nearby shadows.

He opened the car door, shoved her inside the passenger seat, and slammed the door shut with a "bang".

Inside, the car heater was on, proof that he had been there for some time.

Holly scrambled to sit up, glancing out through the windshield. From this angle, she could clearly see the spot where she and Leon had just been standing, saying their goodbyes!

Had he been here the whole time?

Had he returned? Or had he never left at all?

There were no lights on inside the car, only the thin light from the streetlamps seeping through the windows, casting an ambiguous dimness.

Blake Sinclair lowered the seat, his silhouette looming over her.

Unlike earlier, his movements now were unusually slow and gentle.

He didn’t kiss her immediately but pecked gently at her earlobe, then slowly moved to the corner of her lips.

Each peck came with a question full of jealousy and danger.

"So, you were having dinner with that man tonight?" his lips brushed against her earlobe, his breath hot.

Holly tried to turn her head away, but he held her nape, leaving her immobile.

His kisses moved to her chin, lightly nibbling: "Did you have a good time chatting?"

His tone rose, with unmasked jealousy.

His lips pressed against her neck, feeling her quickening pulse: "The food I brought, did you eat it? Was it good?"

Finally, nose-to-nose, their breaths mingled.

He gently lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Hmm?"

His Adam’s apple bobbed, "You even walked him downstairs, laughing and chatting. Are you thinking of cheating, Mrs. Sinclair?"

He practically pressed those last three words against her lips, uttering them deliberately.

The streetlamps filtered through the windows and foliage, casting a sparse light inside.

Holly could clearly see his eyes, the emotions swirling in his amber pupils.

Jealousy, grievance, anxiety, like a sea before a storm, dangerous yet alluring.

In this moment, she felt that the present Blake Sinclair was somewhat like before he lost his memory.

Back then, he had strong possessiveness, was wildly jealous, but sometimes also showed a vulnerable side in front of her.

He looked at the silent Holly beneath him, his gaze darkening, and clicked his tongue in frustration.

His hand reached for the storage compartment below, seemingly to retrieve something but froze upon touching the cabinet door, stiffly retracting his hand.

Holly noticed his abrupt movement and his half-retracted hand, speculating.

She met his gaze, questioning back, "Why are you here?"

Blake Sinclair turned, his eyes glinting.

He was almost amused: "I asked you so many questions, not one answered? Yet you counter-question me?"

But he quickly answered, his voice low and resentful, like a husband caught in the act after being neglected by his wife while waiting alone in an empty room.

"I never left."

It was like an accusation.

"From the moment I sent you into the elevator, I never left." He leaned forward again, trapping her between the seat and his chest.

"I watched you go upstairs, watched that man enter with you. While I sat in the car, waiting for you to perhaps remember me, the one abandoned, or for you to give me a call."

"Then, I saw you walk him downstairs. You both stood there, talking for so long. What did he say to you? To make you so happy? Was Aiden not enough, and now there’s someone new?"

With each question, he pressed closer, Holly almost couldn’t breathe.

"Holly, tell me, do you think that being with someone like him is the only future? While I’m a husband who lost his memory and can’t even enter his own home, am I already out of the picture?"

The car’s heater hummed, unable to dispel the thick jealousy.

Holly raised her hand, not to push him away, but to rest it against his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart.

"Blake Sinclair,"

She finally spoke, "You asked so many questions at once, which one do you want me to answer first?"

Her reaction seemed to catch him off guard.

No angry rebuttal as he expected, nor cold evasion, rather a tone with a hint of helplessness, perhaps even a trace of indulgence?

Blake Sinclair’s gaze froze for a moment.

"Then answer the last one."

He stubbornly repeated that question, but his tone now held a touch of tension, "Am I already out of the picture?"

In the dim light, with their breaths mingling, and gazes entwined.

Outside was the silent autumn night, inside was a heating unvoiced confrontation.

Holly looked at him, at this man who, even with memory loss, was still insanely jealous if she talked a little more with another man, and her heart skipped a beat.

The hand resting on his chest tightened slightly, gripping his coat.

"What if I say yes?"