CHAPTER 43: CHAPTER 43: I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND

The Maybach drove smoothly down the street.

The raised partition isolated the front and back seats, and the private car’s rear was so quiet that you could almost hear a heartbeat.

From the moment she got in the car, Holly Crowe kept her gaze fixed outside the window.

The scenery changed, her expression remained calm, like she hadn’t yet emerged from her emotions.

But only she knew, her heart was screaming inside.

What did she just do?

Did she call out Blake Sinclair’s name in public?

And then held his hand as they got into the car?

Holly didn’t even have the courage to think about what had just happened again. She couldn’t forget the wide eyes of the driver when they got in.

When people’s emotions reach a critical point, they instinctively seek a refuge, and just now she used Blake Sinclair as her emotional anchor.

When her adrenaline surged to its peak, her brain acted without thinking, just reflexively responding.

Holly curled her fingers slightly, brushing her fingertips across Blake Sinclair’s palm.

Their hands were still entwined, and Holly had tried several times to withdraw, but Blake seemed untouched.

Using the reflection in the glass, Holly stole a glance, and Blake showed no sign of disturbance, as if he wasn’t the one who had been dragged by the hand straight out of the banquet hall.

How could this person have no reaction at all?

Just as she was thinking this, Holly suddenly felt a gentle squeeze in her palm.

"Holly."

Blake softly called out to her, his voice particularly clear in the quiet car cabin.

Holly instinctively turned her head, locking eyes with his smiling gaze.

"Hmm?"

"Where to?" he asked.

Holly was momentarily stunned, following his gaze to look outside the window.

It was only then she realized the Maybach seemed to be going around in circles, even the leaves on the roadside had become familiar.

"If you want to keep looping, that’s fine," Blake’s eyes fell on her slightly dazed face, teasingly adding, "just need to refuel first."

"...Whatever, anything is fine."

Holly turned her head back, her earlobes burning almost to a boil.

She hurriedly rolled down the car window, hoping the wind would cool her flushed cheeks.

But the June breeze was really hot!

The wind carried the heat, mixed with the sunbaked asphalt aroma, and blew light beads of sweat onto her nose.

"It’s a bit hot."

She forced a laugh and rolled up the window.

The meaning of her words was, it’s so hot, let go already!!!

But Blake just softly replied "hmm," adjusted the air conditioning to blow harder, yet his hand remained as it was, in the same position.

It was as if the air had solidified, Holly could only hear the whoosh of the air conditioning and the pounding of her own heart growing louder.

Unable to stand it, Holly decided to speak, but just then, the grip on her hand suddenly loosened.

She turned and saw his hand rapidly tapping on his phone screen after pulling away.

Noticing her gaze, Blake raised a brow, glancing at her now empty hand: "We’ll hold hands again in a bit, I need to handle something first."

The air was silent.

"I didn’t say I wanted to hold hands," Holly snapped back a bit forcefully, lowering her head not to look at him again.

What was with this guy? Saying such things without any hesitation?

Blake chuckled lightly, and quickly put away his phone, "Then who was staring at my hand for so long just now?"

"It wasn’t long," Holly retorted, but then quickly denied it, "I didn’t! I wasn’t looking!"

"Oh. Then I must have been mistaken." Blake’s smile deepened, "Actually, I wanted to hold hands."

Holly quickly lifted her head.

Their eyes met unexpectedly.

He looked at her with openness mixed with a hint of seriousness.

A strange thought flashed through her mind, and without catching it, she blurted out, "Blake! You’re talking nonsense."

The moment she spoke, she was stunned.

She called his name, first and last...

Her ears burned as if on fire, and she swiftly turned towards the window, only to hear a low laugh come from beside her.

Suddenly, something was pressed into her hand, and she instinctively shrank back.

Looking down, it was the USB drive he had taken earlier.

"A testament to bravery," his voice was soft.

Holly instantly understood what he meant.

He was referring to what she had endured in the banquet hall. Her face grew even hotter, and she retorted with no little irritation, "Not everyone can be like President Sinclair, speaking eloquently in interviews, handling matters with endless composure."

"No longer calling me Blake?" He leaned towards her, closing the distance in an instant, his cedar scent rushing over.

"I thought you were getting used to it."

"I..."

Holly instinctively retorted, but Blake didn’t give her a chance, continuing to probe.

"You’ve watched my interviews?" He spoke with a teasing lilt.

Holly:....??

Is that the point?

She glared at him.

When did Blake become so cunning?

She felt like a butterfly under a cat’s paw.

Blake stopped teasing, his playful gaze gradually fading, and spoke seriously: "I’ve already had someone look into the video monitoring issue."

Holly was stunned.

So he was handling this? With his phone earlier?

When she went backstage to play the video, she knew she must have been captured by the security cameras. But at that moment, she couldn’t care about that, only wanting Zion Pence to experience the feeling of having someone talk behind his back.

I just didn’t expect Blake Sinclair to have thought of this, and even helped her solve the matter.

"Thank you." She said softly, feeling a bit complicated inside.

Blake Sinclair: "Actually, it’s not."

Holly Crowe was taken aback.

He looked into her eyes, with a seriousness that made her heart flutter: "It’s not always calm and unperturbed."

Was he explaining what she had just said?

Blake Sinclair’s voice was deep, "I too encounter problems that can’t be solved."

Holly Crowe was momentarily speechless, as if something had lightly scratched her heart, making her itch.

She felt as if a faint veil in the car gently lifted a bit because of his words.

Just then, the Maybach gradually came to a stop.

Blake Sinclair leaned back against the seat, his tone returning to its usual calm, "We’re here."

Holly Crowe turned her head, and was stunned at the sight outside the window.

In her view was a large lawn and a fountain in the courtyard, more like an estate than a villa.

"Where is this?" she asked.

"My home."

Holly Crowe turned sharply to look at him: "Your home?"

Sinclair Manor?

Two housekeepers came out and opened the car door for her, while Blake Sinclair led her inside.

"I promised to bring you to pick bayberries." His tone was natural, as if he were stating something very normal.

Who promised?

She didn’t agree at all!

Heavens, discern friend from foe!

She refused right then and there!

Holly Crowe was about to say something to refuse, when she heard a familiar childish voice not far away, "Crowe! You really came!"

Sinclair bounced over, wearing a little straw hat seriously and a sun-protection shirt with a strawberry bear pattern.

Behind her was a "masked hero," a beige sun-protection mask covering most of her face, revealing only a pair of bright eyes.

"Crowe, this is my beautiful mom!" Sinclair took her hand and pulled her forward.

The "masked hero" took off the mask, revealing a radiant face.

Her eyes and Blake Sinclair’s had some resemblance, both with long, narrow shapes, but the extra beauty mark beneath her eye added a touch of charm.

"Hello, I’m Laurel Sinclair." The woman smiled and extended her hand, "About the market last time, thank you."

Holly Crowe quickly shook her hand, "You’re too kind."

"It’s deserved." Laurel Sinclair’s eyes curved with her smile, "Didn’t have time to prepare today, how about a shopping trip next time?"

"No need, no need," Holly Crowe waved her hand, "You’ve already let President Sinclair take me to dinner."

Laurel Sinclair raised an eyebrow, giving Blake Sinclair a meaningful look, "Dinner?"

She drew out a long "oh," a slight curve lifting at the corner of her mouth.

Blake Sinclair remained unfazed: "Let’s go inside first."

Sinclair couldn’t wait any longer, and as soon as the words fell, she pulled Holly Crowe inside, chirping non-stop.

"Crowe, look! Our bayberries are ripe! Uncle just said he was bringing you to pick bayberries, I didn’t believe it, but he really did it!"

Holly Crowe paused mid-step.

So when he said "I’ve decided" in the car, had he already planned to bring her here?

Schemer!

Behind her, Laurel Sinclair watched her brother with arms crossed. "When did I say you could invite meals on my behalf?"

Her words were full of teasing.

"It’s an uncle’s duty." Blake Sinclair replied seriously, walking inside calmly.

"Tch."

Laurel Sinclair sneered lightly and followed him.

Holly Crowe was being pulled along by Shirley Sinclair, not knowing where the little girl got such strength.

She was wearing a long dress today, making even walking fast a struggle, let alone picking bayberries. In just these few minutes, the skirt was blown around by the wind and tangled several times, nearly tripping her.

Sinclair chirped while pulling her hand, "Crowe, good thing you came today, or the bayberries would all be eaten by Huahua."

"Who’s Huahua?"

"Huahua is a little bird, it comes every day to eat bayberries, no matter how we try to chase it away."

Holly Crowe was amused, almost twisting her ankle.

Just as she was once again tripping over her skirt, a pair of hands steadily supported her arm.

"Be careful."

Laurel Sinclair appeared by her side without her knowing, "This dress is very pretty, but not suitable for picking bayberries."

Holly Crowe’s smile was a bit forced.

"Follow me." Laurel Sinclair naturally took her hand and walked upstairs.

She took out a set of clothes from the closet, still with the tags attached.

"Here, change into this. I bought it when I planned to start working out," she handed Holly Crowe the clothes, "but never got around to wearing it."

Holly Crowe took them and thanked her.

When she came out after changing, Laurel Sinclair was sitting on the sofa looking at her phone.

Hearing the movement, she looked up, eyes gleaming, her beauty mark lifting with her smile, "Teacher Crowe looks sharp in this."

It was a haze blue athletic set, fitting Holly Crowe perfectly, accentuating her waistline, and the color made her skin look even fairer.

Laurel Sinclair rested her chin on her hand, teasing, "Like a freshly graduated college student."

Holly Crowe awkwardly smiled, "You can just call me Holly Crowe."

"Alright, then from now on, we’re friends, don’t be so formal with me either."

Holly Crowe nodded, "Alright, Laurel."

These siblings sure have a similar way of speaking.