CHAPTER 66: CHAPTER 66: LAST NIGHT WAS VERY SATISFYING

The next day, Holly woke up in Blake Sinclair’s arms.

Her head rested against his collarbone, and without realizing it, one leg was draped over his waist. Her sleeping posture was as bad as ever.

Thinking back to the mornings just a few days ago when she always woke up to an empty bed, she realized she had become accustomed to the sense of security that came from sleeping in Blake Sinclair’s embrace.

Blake Sinclair was woken up by her movement, and with half-closed eyes, he asked, "Awake?"

A low, husky voice came from above, carrying the lazy quality of someone who just woke up.

Holly looked up and met his gaze.

In that instant, the memories of last night came flooding back.

His murmurs by her ear, the passionate breathing, and his whispering "Good girl, Holly."

Holly’s face instantly turned red, and she wanted to crawl out of his embrace. Just as she made a move, her waist was gently pressed down.

"Why are you running?"

Blake Sinclair’s voice was laced with amusement. Under the covers, his fingers slowly reached over, found her hand, and interlocked their fingers one by one.

He gently pinched her fingertips, "Holly, you worked hard last night."

"You... you stop talking!"

Holly buried her face in the pillow, "No more talking..."

She was thankful that her room was on the third floor and her parents lived on the second floor. Fortunately, the house had been recently renovated with good soundproofing; otherwise, she wouldn’t have had the courage to face anyone this morning.

A low chuckle came from above, making Holly even more uncomfortable, wishing she could transform into an ostrich right there.

She abruptly turned over, pulling the covers over herself like a cocoon, facing away from him and refusing to say another word.

Blake Sinclair chuckled, reaching out to pat the "silkworm baby" beside him, "Mom just called us downstairs for breakfast."

The person in the blanket shook their head, a muffled voice coming out: "You go ahead, I’ll... I’ll take a bit."

She needed some time to push the images from last night out of her head.

But the next moment, she and the quilt were enveloped in Blake Sinclair’s embrace.

"Last night... I really enjoyed it."

Holly’s breath hitched for half a second.

"So," he paused, "let’s work together more in the future?"

The world fell silent.

Only Holly’s breaking voice remained.

The sound of footsteps gradually faded away, and as the door closed, the mound of blankets on the bed writhed vigorously, rolling around.

Holly felt like she could scream.

This Blake Sinclair! How could he... how could he say such things!

What gentlemanly Sinclair Family prince, everyone was fooled!

Utterly unrefined! Totally against the rules!

When she went downstairs for breakfast, Holly kept her head down, not daring to glance sideways even with her peripheral vision.

But Blake Sinclair, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, even more attentive than usual.

When her bowl of porridge was nearly finished, he immediately ladled another half bowl for her and even peeled an egg for her.

Sitting across the table, Josephine Lennon could hardly bear it and lightly nudged Holly with her foot.

Holly met Director Lennon’s "What’s wrong with you, child?" look.

There was unspeakable bitterness in her heart.

Mom, you don’t understand! You’ve all been fooled by him!

This man, he’s just putting on an act, secretly he’s so two-faced and scheming!

Josephine Lennon looked at her with a disappointed sigh and reluctantly picked up an egg to peel, "Blake, don’t spoil her too much. Holly has gotten too accustomed to laziness."

Blake Sinclair placed the peeled egg into Holly’s bowl and smiled, "It’s okay, Mom. I’m willing to pamper her."

He paused, turning to look at Holly’s hand holding the spoon, his tone ambiguous, "Holly’s hands are a bit uncomfortable today, so I should take care of her."

Holly’s hand holding the spoon trembled suddenly, almost causing it to fall into the bowl.

She glared up at Blake Sinclair.

What was he up to?

He even dared to mention it!

But Blake Sinclair acted as if he didn’t see her warning gaze, looking completely unbothered, and even thoughtfully handed over a tissue, as if that sentence had been a genuine expression of concern.

Josephine Lennon, redirecting her attention, looked anxiously at Holly’s hand, "What happened to your hand?"

Holly choked slightly on her porridge and swallowed it down after two coughs, mumbling, "Just tendonitis, old problem, it’s nothing."

As she spoke, she fiercely stepped on Blake Sinclair’s foot under the table.

Yet he remained calm, taking a bite of the egg that Director Lennon had peeled.

Josephine Lennon reminded her worriedly, "Since you’ve already quit your job, just rest well for now. Don’t be like your grandfather, who neglected his health when he was young and suffered from hand pain in old age."

"Yeah, got it, Mom."

Breakfast ended in this strangely awkward atmosphere.

Holly sat on pins and needles, while Blake Sinclair remained composed.

The two of them had just finished helping Josephine Lennon clear the dishes into the kitchen when they heard an urgent voice from the front yard: "Is Teacher Lennon home? Could you please move your car parked at the entrance? My moving truck can’t get through!"

The car at the entrance?

Holly instinctively looked to Blake Sinclair, who nodded, "I’ll go move it."

"I’ll come with you."

Blake Sinclair gently squeezed her hand, "No need, just wait for me at home. I’ll be back soon."

Holly hesitated for a moment before nodding, "Then park it at the community service station at the corner, there’s a big space for parking."

"Alright." Blake Sinclair agreed, turning and heading out.

Holly hadn’t been in the house for more than a few minutes when she decided to go out as well.

She had barely taken a couple of steps out when a familiar male voice called from behind: "Holly?"

Holly paused, turning back.

A man in a white T-shirt and sweatpants stood not far away, a bit sweaty, looking like he’d just finished a morning run.

He approached her with a smile, the mole below his eye strangely familiar.

"Don’t recognize me?"

The man took a few steps closer, his tone carrying a bit of nostalgia, "Did you forget how you used to always cling to me as a child, wanting to play in the mud together?"

"Aiden Jenson?"

Holly was surprised, "Is that really you, Aiden?"

Aiden Jenson had been her old neighbor, one year older. As kids, the children from the ceramics factory always hung out together.

He had exceptional talent in pottery, even her picky grandfather had praised Aiden Jenson’s natural ability in ceramics multiple times.

But later, after they both got into college, they lost touch. He went abroad for further studies while she joined Sunfield Corporation, and their contact completely faded.

Thinking back, it seemed like the last time they met was at a high school reunion.

Holly smiled, "Long time no see, have you returned to the country?"

"Just got back a few days ago."

Aiden Jenson looked at her, his gaze subtle. Instinctively, he raised his hand, intending to ruffle her hair like when they were young, but Holly instinctively took a half-step back, maintaining a polite distance.

Aiden’s hand hung in mid-air momentarily before he retracted it without concern, smiling, "What about you? What brings you back out of the blue?"

"Just dealing with some stuff," Holly replied vaguely.

For a moment, neither knew what to say, and a sense of awkwardness lingered between them.

Just then, she heard someone calling her name from behind.

Holly turned around to see Blake Sinclair standing not far off, silhouetted against the light.

The morning glow blurred his features, making it impossible for Holly to read his expression, though his presence seemed colder than when he had left the house earlier.

He approached step by step, stopping beside Holly, naturally encircling his arm around her waist, drawing her closer.

He looked at Aiden Jenson, a trace of scrutiny in his eyes, "And who might this be?"

Once she regained her composure, Holly quickly introduced, "This is Aiden Jenson, the neighbor I grew up next to."

She then turned to Aiden Jenson, "This is Blake Sinclair, my... husband."

Upon uttering "husband," she felt the hand at her waist tighten slightly.

Aiden Jenson’s smile faded a little, reaching out his hand, "Hi, I’m Aiden Jenson, Holly’s neighbor."

"Blake Sinclair," he said, reaching out his hand, his words crisp, "Holly’s husband."

His eyes behind the glasses squinted slightly as he glanced at Holly, smiling warmly, "Wife, is this the neighbor you mentioned before bed last night?"

Holly’s eyes widened. Heaven and earth! When did she mention that?!