Chapter 141 Trust Me, He's Not Coming
Olivia's POV:
I hadn't seen Blake since Bangkok. Not once. Not even a text.
It was like he'd vanished into thin air after Ethan beat him in that hotel room and locked him in the basement. I'd pleaded with Ethan to go easier on his own nephew, but that only made Ethan angrier. After that, I never brought up Blake's name again. Not if I wanted peace.
"Liv? You there?"
I finally found my voice, though it came out stiff and unnatural. "Merry Christmas."
Blake chuckled. "I came to see you."
Those words sent a jolt of panic through me. "What? Where are you?"
"I'm outside Oakwood Estate, by the iron gates on the north side. Come out for a minute."
I shot up from the window seat where I'd been reading. "Are you insane? You know what Ethan is like. Why are you deliberately antagonizing him? You need to leave before he gets back."
"Don't worry," Blake's voice carried a new confidence that unsettled me. "He won't be back tonight. Not just tonight—he won't be back for the next two or three days."
"Even if he's not here, I'm not coming out to meet you," I said firmly, moving away from the window in case Blake could somehow see me. "You need to go."
"Just for five minutes. I have something to tell you."
"No," I said, ending the call.
My phone immediately lit up again. Blake. I declined it. He called back. This continued four more times before I moved to block his number altogether. That's when a text came through.
Come out or I'll wait here all night. Until you come out.
Damn it. I knew Blake well enough to know he meant it. He could be just as stubborn as his uncle when he wanted something.
"Sarah," I called to the maid who was arranging Christmas decorations. "I'm going for a quick walk in the garden. My head's a bit fuzzy."
She looked up, already slipping off her indoor shoes. "Should I come with you?"
"No," I said quickly. "I just need some fresh air. I won't be long. Stay here and finish the tree."
I pulled on a coat and stepped into the freezing night air. Snow had fallen earlier, dusting the grounds with white powder that crunched beneath my boots. I made my way to the north side of the estate, my breath forming clouds in the cold.
Even from a distance, I could see him. Tall and lean, dressed entirely in black—a wool coat, a dark scarf wrapped around his neck, and a black knit beanie pulled low on his head. He was smoking, the cigarette a tiny orange glow in the darkness.
Three months had changed Blake. The cocky playboy vibe had vanished. In its place was something harder, sharper. There was an undeniable edge to him now that reminded me eerily of Ethan. But where Ethan's came from years of experience and control, Blake's felt raw and unpredictable.
I stopped a few feet from the iron gate, keeping a safe distance between us. "What do you want?"
Blake reached through the bars toward me. "Come closer. I've missed you."
I stepped back, scanning the dark perimeter nervously. "Say what you need to say and go. Please."
He gave me that familiar lopsided smile. "He's not coming back tonight. What are you so afraid of?"
"What do you want, Blake?" I repeated, my patience wearing thin.
He sighed, his breath visible in the cold air. "Seeing you on Christmas, braving the snow—what do you think I want? I missed you."
"Blake," I sighed, "do you think I betrayed you by being with your uncle? Is that why you keep—"
"No." He cut me off. "Liv, I don't blame you. I know he forced you."
"Then why do you keep coming back? Why put yourself at risk? Why put me at risk?"
Blake leaned against the gate and slid down until he was sitting on the snowy ground. He removed his beanie and scarf, offering them through the bars.
"Use these as a cushion. Sit with me for a while."
I didn't take them. "Blake, whatever you have to say—"
"Liv." His tone hardened as he tossed the items at my feet. "Sit down."
I reluctantly picked up the beanie and scarf but didn't use them as a seat cushion. The intimacy of sitting on another man's clothing felt wrong. I held them out to return them.
Blake seized the opportunity, grabbing my hand through the bars.
"Let go!" I yanked back, panic flooding my system.
He released me, but didn't take back his belongings. "Sit on them. The ground's cold and wet."
I shook my head, carefully folding his beanie and scarf and placing them on the ground between us. I sat down on the bare ground, ignoring the cold seeping through my jeans.
"Talk. What's so important?"
Blake leaned against the bars, tilting his head to look at the dark sky. Snow was beginning to fall again, tiny flakes catching in his eyelashes.
"Did I ever tell you about my family?" he asked quietly.
"No," I answered, pulling my coat tighter.
"My grandfather had three women in his life," Blake began. "The first was my grandmother—my father's mother."
I stayed silent. I knew parts of this story from Ethan, but never the details.
"My grandmother was originally a maid in my family's house. She was beautiful, and my grandfather fell for her the moment he saw her. He married her against his family's wishes."
Blake took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling upward in the still night.
"When my dad was seven, they separated. Not long after, my grandfather got involved with a B-list actress who looked remarkably like my grandmother—same feisty personality, same bubbly laugh."
"With my grandmother as a cautionary tale, my grandfather wasn't about to marry another woman without status. The actress got pregnant out of wedlock and gave birth to my uncle Mason. My great-grandmother had her paid off, and the baby was brought into the Bennett family."
"Then my grandfather married my current grandmother, Ashley Montgomery. With her connections, his career took off."
Blake's eyes had a faraway look. "My father grew up with my grandparents until he was seven, then lived with my great-grandparents after the divorce. But my great-grandmother never warmed to him—she preferred my aunt Hannah, whom she'd raised from birth."
"When Uncle Mason came along as a newborn, he naturally became another favorite. My father was left to his own devices, with no one really watching him. My grandfather was busy with his career, stationed somewhere else. So my father grew into the ultimate spoiled rich kid."
"In college, my father met my mother. She got pregnant with me at nineteen, thinking a baby would be her ticket to becoming a Bennett. But after what happened with my grandmother, my great-grandmother wasn't about to let history repeat itself. She dealt with my mother swiftly—a mix of threats and bribes sent her abroad."
I couldn't help but ask, "How old was your great-grandmother at the time?"