CHAPTER 112: CHAPTER 112: PEACOCK DISPLAYING ITS PLUMES

Blake Sinclair stood at the doorway, wearing a black shirt with a subtle pattern. The top two buttons were casually undone, and the sleeves were rolled up to the forearms, revealing a sleek line of his wrist.

He was surrounded by several executive directors, and the air of aloof authority he carried with him as always followed him.

But when his gaze fell on Holly Crowe, it softened, and there was even a fleeting nuance of fluster in his eyes.

He walked a few steps to Holly’s side, his glance lightly skimming the entire room, his voice not loud yet clear, "I was passing by the area, just came to have a look, everyone please continue."

The director smiled and walked over, "President Sinclair, your presence illuminates our gathering tonight! Quickly! Arrange a seat next to Teacher Holly for President Sinclair."

The waiter swiftly adjusted the seating, even changing the chair cushion to a new one on purpose.

Blake Sinclair nodded and sat down, under the table, he intimately found Holly’s hand and playfully scratched her palm.

This action of his fell entirely into the eyes of Shannon Yarrow, her face instantly darkened a few shades, and her fingers holding the water glass gradually turned white.

"Why are you here?"

Holly drew back her hand and poked his arm, turned her head, and lowered her voice, asking, "Didn’t we agree already?"

Blake poured her a cup of herbal tea, his expression unchanged, "You sent me a message."

Holly was speechless.

"I clearly told you we just started eating, it would take about two to three more hours to finish."

"Oh?"

Blake glanced at the dishes on the table and called a waiter over to order a few of Holly’s favorite dishes.

He leisurely said, "Oh, then perhaps I missed you too much, so I misread the time."

"You..."

Holly was exasperated, this man could really lie without batting an eye, not a single hitch.

If it weren’t for the people watching, she would’ve loved to punch him.

While thinking this, a cold small plastic box was suddenly placed in her hand. She looked down and saw it was the pillbox she kept her allergy meds in.

She looked at him, puzzled.

Blake hooked her pinky finger, with a teasing tone, "Came to bring you your medicine."

"Thank you!"

Holly gave him a sidelong glance, then pushed the pillbox back into his hand.

Blake raised an eyebrow, nodded with some thought, and put away the pillbox.

"Not taking it is fine too, looks like I’ll have to block the drinks for you later."

"Your injury hasn’t healed yet! I wasn’t planning to drink tonight, my period’s about to start, I already told everyone before coming, and you can’t drink either."

Blake curved his lips slightly, obediently acquiescing, "Alright, all as you say."

Looking at the curve at the corner of his mouth, Holly suddenly realized, earlier he was setting a trap for her!

She pinched his thigh under the table and then got up nonchalantly, holding her tea cup to toast the director’s group.

As she headed to the adjacent table, Blake had at some point followed her, naturally standing by her side, imitating her by also picking up a cup of tea.

Those few young staff and guests, upon seeing Blake Sinclair, immediately became a lot more nervous and quickly bowed, preparing to pour wine.

Blake covered the mouth of the cup with one hand, his tone mild, "Your kind gesture is noted, but there will be no drinking. Teacher Crowe has set the rule, afraid I won’t be able to enter the door tonight."

"Pffft~" Someone couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Holly turned red with embarrassment, turning her head to glare at him irritably, giving him a look that said "I’ll deal with you later."

Blake wore an innocent expression, conveniently wrapping an arm around her waist, drawing her into his embrace with a familiar pose.

The director’s group, all quite shrewd, merely laughed along.

"President Sinclair is injured, indeed not suitable for drinking. Understandable, join Teacher Crowe in substituting tea for wine. Come! Let us all toast President Sinclair and Teacher Crowe!"

Everyone raised their cups and drank it all in one go; the atmosphere warmed up again, inevitably making Holly the focus of conversation.

Blake slightly raised a hand signal, the waiter at the door saw and nodded, bowing out.

Soon the door was opened once again, several impeccably dressed waiters with white gloves walked in, each of them holding a bottle of evidently expensive top-grade wine.

"Unfit to drink due to health, to express apologies, hope everyone enjoys, and gratitude for taking care of Holly during this time."

Blake’s tone was indifferent, yet the courtesy was meticulous.

Everyone present could tell that the bottles of wine the waiters held could cover the entire restaurant’s bill today, yet to Blake it seemed like he was merely giving out a few bottles of water.

The director’s group couldn’t stop smiling, two out of every three sentences was a blessing for the couple.

Blake seemed quite pleased, the sternness in his eyes since entering had gradually softened, and a gaze almost tender towards Holly.

Once the director started offering blessings, every person who came to toast included a blessing:

"President Sinclair and Teacher Crowe are truly a match made in heaven, wishing you happiness."

"Holly, President Sinclair really has nothing more to say for you, he spoils you too much! I’m so envious!"

"Holly, truth be told, I’m also a fan of your couple, you must be happy!"

"Wishing President Sinclair and Teacher Crowe a long life of happiness and many children soon!"

Blessings like these followed one after another, Holly almost suspected she wasn’t at a gathering with the program team, but had stumbled into her own wedding banquet, experiencing the toasting session in advance.

After making the rounds, Holly looked at the man beside her who was even more high than she was, like a peacock spreading its feathers.

On the way back to their seats, Blake always kept a hand on her waist.

He lowered his head, whispered by her ear, "Holly, didn’t we look like a bride and groom toasting just now?"

His words carried a smile and deep anticipation.

Holly’s heart was enveloped in sweetness, tingling with delight.

She didn’t answer directly, just brought his hand holding the teacup to her nose to sniff, "You didn’t drink either."

"The person is drunk without drinking."

"Stop being cheeky."

"Holly," Blake slid his fingers to intertwine with hers, his voice deeper, more earnest, "It’s less than three months until our wedding, I’m counting down the days every day."

Holly didn’t reply, but the arc at the corners of her mouth unconsciously lifted a few degrees.

She hooked his finger, lightly scratching his palm, which made him grip hers tighter.

All of her anxiety seemed to be quietly soothed by his childish yet direct declaration.

Upon returning to their original spot, the dishes had all been served.

Holly thought about how Blake’s injury hadn’t fully healed, and wanted to give him some face outside, so she picked up the soup ladle, preparing to serve him a bowl of soup.

But just as she was about to reach out, someone beside her moved faster.

Shannon suddenly stood up, holding a bowl of steaming soup, bypassing Holly, stopping between her and Blake.

The bowl was filled to the brim, the rising white steam almost touching the medical patches on her hand, particularly glaring.

"President Sinclair, I want to thank you for your help last time. I heard your injury hasn’t healed; this is a medicinal soup I specifically had the kitchen make."

Shannon’s eyes stared directly at Blake, as if Holly beside them was invisible.

Ever since his entrance, all the attention, all the tenderness had been solely directed at Holly.

The gentle whispers spoken unabashedly, the natural intimate gestures, and the satisfaction in his eyes while receiving blessings all pierced her sight.

Watching them toast like a newlywed couple, receiving everyone’s blessings, her heart felt like it was being sliced by a knife.

Shannon held this steaming bowl of soup like she was holding her own humility and stubbornness, her hands turning red from the steaming heat, yet she didn’t move, waiting for Blake to take it.

Using the past assistance as a pretext for gratitude, he had no reason to decline.

The atmosphere quieted down.

Everyone in the private room pretended to bow their heads eating, but their peripheral vision inadvertently circled the three of them.

The air was thick with awkwardness, let alone the sound of chewing food, everyone’s breath hushed significantly.

The steaming hot soup brimmed full, Shannon’s hands, due to being suspended in mid-air for too long, unconsciously trembled, appearing on the verge of falling, with the medical patches on her hand, everyone’s hearts felt a bit uneasy.

Just as it seemed the bowl couldn’t be held much longer, Blake finally shifted slightly.