CHAPTER 131: CHAPTER 131: THE BAD MAN WHO DOESN’T UNDERSTAND ROMANCE

The morning light was just beginning to break.

Sunlight crept into the bedroom through the curtains.

Holly Crowe, still half-asleep, was disturbed by the rustling next to her.

She struggled to open her eyes and saw Blake Sinclair take a bulging bag out of the bedroom in a haze and return with empty hands a short while later.

Sleepily, she turned over, hoping to fall back asleep, but her back met a warm chest.

Blake Sinclair lay on his side, reached from behind, and mischievously pinched her chin with his fingers, still cool from washing up, rocking her gently. "Time to get up."

"Just a little longer, experts say one needs sufficient sleep," Holly patted his hand away, playing coy.

Blake chuckled silently. "Who was it last night that held my hand and repeatedly insisted, ’Blake Sinclair, make sure you wake me up tomorrow morning before you leave’?"

He deliberately mimicked Holly’s assured tone from the night before, his voice rising at the end, dripping with sarcasm.

Annoyed by his impression, half of Holly’s sleepiness dissipated. She punched him lightly in return, "Shut up! If it weren’t for you, I’d be up already."

Two days ago, Professor Miles Quill emailed, inviting her to attend an important domestic art exhibition and a subsequent dinner on his behalf.

Holly had planned to get up early and dress up nicely, but Blake had kept her up late into the night, leaving her too tired even to lift her arms now.

Blake laughed, his laughter resonating through his chest and into her back.

He sat up and, without asking, grabbed both of her hands, pulling her soft and limp body up from the bed, "I’ve already called a stylist and makeup artist to come over, ordered your favorite lunch for noon, and arranged for a driver to take you this afternoon. Is that sincere enough?"

Holly barely opened an eye, pushed her hair off her face, and shot him a glance. "A man acting so considerately out of nowhere must be up to no good."

Blake ruffled her tousled hair, got out of bed, and started dressing.

Without his support, Holly collapsed back onto the bed like a boneless creature.

Yet this time, her sleepiness had already been disrupted by him.

She lay on her side, quietly watching Blake dress as he tied his tie.

The bedroom’s automatic curtains sensed the sunlight and slowly drew the sheer curtains. He stood bathed in gentle light, as if coated in a layer of gold, each movement exuding grace and calm.

Is there anything more pleasant than waking up to see a handsome man?

She recalled last night when he nervously showed her his less-than-perfect true self and remembered his words as he held her at the end of the night,

"I used to only want to show you my best side, but now I want you to see even those awkward, most hidden parts of me."

Previously, Holly always felt there was an invisible veil, an unfathomable chasm, between her and Blake.

But after last night, it seemed that veil had faded a bit, and that chasm was slowly being filled with a certain warm emotion, bringing them closer and closer.

His past kindness and thoughtfulness clearly surfaced in her mind, like candies melting in her heart.

A sweet delight filled her chest, almost overflowing, swelling her heart with sweetness.

This morning, in the sunlit warmth, Holly was utterly certain that she had completely fallen for this man.

Unable to hold back, she stifled her upward-curving mouth, pulled the blanket over her head, and in her private little world, she laughed silently but heartily, her toes curling with pure joy.

Blake finished tying his tie and turned around, seeing the tightly wrapped but trembling bundle on the bed.

He furrowed his brow slightly, walked over, and pulled back the blanket.

Holly was indulging in her youthful joy alone when suddenly light shone upon her, revealing Blake’s handsome face in front of her.

Her smile froze immediately.

There wasn’t much air under the blanket, and after laughing for so long, she felt a bit lightheaded, her face flushed red, and now caught by him, it turned even redder.

"What are you doing?" she asked guiltily, trying to pull the blanket over again, but the man’s strength was far beyond what she could match.

The blanket didn’t budge an inch.

Blake’s fingers poked her flushed, burning face, teasing, "Why’s your face so red? Hmm?"

"It’s hot, can’t I be hot?"

"Is that so?"

Holly remained stubborn, though it was unclear where she found the confidence, and with force, she pulled, unexpectedly dragging both the blanket and herself forward.

Blake lost his balance, and his body came down upon her.

The two were extremely close, their noses touching, his breath falling on her neck, giving her a ticklish sensation.

Blake’s gaze instantly changed, from playful to increasingly heated and deep, his eyes drifting down from hers to her slightly parted lips due to surprise.

Holly felt the heat in his gaze.

Her heart pounded like a drum, she tilted her head slightly, closing her eyes, waiting for his kiss to land.

Blake lowered his head, his breath coming closer and closer, but at the last moment, he turned and placed a gentle kiss on her burning face instead.

He chuckled, affectionately tapping her nose, "What are you thinking about? Little pervert."

Holly Crowe: "...!!!"

A huge wave of embarrassment and annoyance surged to her head. She lay on the bed, taking several deep breaths in anger.

This man had remarkable tactics.

She kicked him off with a swing of her leg, "Insensitive bad man."

Blake Sinclair was amused by her exasperated look and laughed aloud, "Now I’m a bad man? Who was it yesterday who said, ’The one I like has never been the perfect kind of Blake...’"

Halfway through his sentence, Holly clamped his mouth with her hands, glaring at him playfully, "Blake Sinclair, you’re really annoying!"

Blake stopped teasing her, kissed her palm, and got out of bed to put on his coat.

Holly’s gaze wandered and she unintentionally noticed the tie he wore today was a style she hadn’t seen before.

"Come here for a second." She beckoned with a finger.

Blake obliged, bending down, leaning closer to her.

Holly reached out, grabbed his tie, and gently pulled him closer to her.

She looked carefully and confirmed it was new, and... it didn’t have the swallow pattern she was familiar with.

Feeling a stirring inside, she retracted her hand and nonchalantly asked, "Why are you wearing this tie today?"

Blake’s expression was slightly unnatural but quickly passed. He picked up the tie and asked back, "What’s wrong with this tie?"

Holly didn’t mention the swallow pattern, thinking it was good that Blake had stopped wearing it, lest it irk her.

She shook her head, her tone light, "Nothing, just wear this one from now on, it looks better than the previous one."

"Alright, as you say." Blake nodded.

They fooled around on the bed for a while until a call from Cole Tanner finally hurried Blake away with some reluctance.

Not long after, Holly also got out of bed.

The prearranged makeup artist and stylist arrived shortly.

In the afternoon, she was to attend an art exhibition, and the stylist picked out a pure white halter-neck satin dress for her.

The dress seemed tailored for her, perfectly outlining her figure.

The makeup artist swept her hair up into a bun, leaving a few loose strands lazily hanging by her ears, paired with a set of pearl studs, giving her an elegant, pure look.

She put on the dress and came out, the stylist was full of admiration, couldn’t help but praise, "President Sinclair was right, you really suit this dress perfectly."

Holly lifted the hem of the dress, somewhat surprised, "He picked this?"

"Yes," the stylist nodded, "The dress is the latest style that President Sinclair specially ordered from Vardenia today. As he said, it seems made just for you."

Holly was a little embarrassed by his words, her cheeks flushed slightly, shyly touching the pearl earrings.

The makeup and styling finished by noon, and Blake had also arranged for lunch to be delivered.

After lunch, the driver was already waiting downstairs on time.

It was a calm and competent female driver.

Seeing her get in the car, the driver handed her a bag, smiling, "President Sinclair specifically instructed that the exhibition hall was quite cold, so here’s a shawl prepared for you."

Holly thanked her and received it, unable to help but smile as she felt the softness inside.

The exhibition hall wasn’t far, less than a twenty-minute drive to the destination.

After getting out, the female driver got out as well, proactively taking her bag, keeping a distance, and following behind.

"President Sinclair instructed me to follow you today. Rest assured, I will wait at a safe distance, and you can call me if you need anything."

Holly nodded, feeling deeply moved by his thoroughness and thoughtfulness.

At the entrance, she handed over the invitation.

Once inside, many guests had already arrived.

This exhibition featured a combination of oil paintings and ceramics, with many young artists and renowned veterans attending, coming forward to exchange pleasantries upon hearing she was there on behalf of Master Miles Quill.

The atmosphere was harmonious and elegant.

The highlight was Theodore Roth, a master ceramics artist on par with Miles Quill.

Holly followed the crowd to greet him, but after a few steps, her gaze froze on the person beside him.

Beside Master Theodore Roth, Shannon Yarrow in a black Hepburn-style long dress, topped with a round hat, was holding the master’s arm, standing there with a beaming smile.

Black and white.

The two figures made eye contact from across the crowd.