Chapter 992

Preston Sinclair suddenly smiled, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. The warmth in his gaze deepened as he studied Evelyn's flustered expression.

This was so unlike the composed business magnate who regularly dominated headlines alongside A-list celebrities.

She was regal yet playful, sophisticated yet untainted by cynicism. The startled, wide-eyed look she gave him made his chest tighten—as if he'd stumbled upon something priceless.

His lips curved into a tender smile as he held her gaze.

"Evelyn, we're together now. This isn't being a rogue—it's called affection."

Lowering his voice, he murmured, "Did you enjoy it?"

The sudden shift to seriousness sent heat rushing to her cheeks. Preston Sinclair, you absolute—!

She refused to let him win. Squaring her shoulders, she forced her racing heart to steady.

But she couldn't bring herself to replay that kiss. Just the memory made her pulse stutter.

Pursing her lips, she feigned indifference. "It was... passable. Technique needs work, though I can tell you've practiced. Mr. Sinclair, exactly how many women have you kissed before me?"

The question slipped out before she could stop it. She believed him when he said he'd never been serious with anyone.

But that kiss? Far too skilled for an amateur.

Who did he think he was fooling?

Crossing her arms, she waited for his reaction. Preston merely smirked and raised a hand, utterly unbothered. "Only you. Self-taught. If you're unsatisfied, we can always... explore further. I aim to please."

Evelyn stiffened, words failing her. For the first time, she felt utterly outmatched.

Just then, Oliver Sinclair toddled in, shattering the charged silence.

He blinked up at Preston, then at Evelyn, then back at his father. With innocent sweetness, he chirped, "Daddy, congratulations! You're not dead yet!"

Preston's expression froze.

His jaw tightened as he stared at his son. "...Thanks."

Oliver, sensing the shift in mood, quickly hugged Preston's arm, swinging it playfully.

"Daddy, I tried so hard to take care of you! I gave you medicine, but you wouldn't take it!"

Evelyn nodded. The scene she'd walked in on earlier had been Oliver attempting to force-feed Preston an assortment of pills.

Preston's eyebrow twitched. "Those were laxatives, Oliver."

The boy, too young to read labels, had simply grabbed whatever bottles he could find. In his mind, one of them had to work for a fever.

Before he could succeed, Evelyn had arrived.

Her lips pressed together to suppress a laugh as she gently pulled Oliver away.

"You should rest," she told Preston. "Eat something when your fever breaks. We'll leave you be."

Preston exhaled, the drowsiness from his medication finally pulling at him. The energy he'd mustered to tease her was fading fast.

The moment his head hit the pillow, he was out.

Evelyn let out a quiet breath of relief as she stepped out with Oliver.

Thank goodness for the interruption. Another minute alone with Preston, and she might have combusted.

"Pretty Lady, why is your face so red?" Oliver peered up at her, curious.

"Did Daddy make you sick too?"

Evelyn touched her burning cheeks, inhaling deeply to steady herself.

"...Yes. Something like that."