Chapter 169

The live room buzzed with excitement over their favorite couples. Many viewers expressed their enthusiasm:

“[Who can relate? My smile is harder to hide than a firearm in plain sight!]”

“[The PrexC couple is just too sweet! I feel like my dead heart just started beating again!]”

“[Did you see how red his ears got? He’s barely in his twenties. Besides holding his pee, what else can he possibly hold?]”

“[With such an innocent puppy like him, how does Cynthia manage to keep her composure?]”

As the shipping frenzy reached its peak, a black jacket was suddenly tossed over Cynthia's shoulders, covering her cleavage. Preston and Cynthia froze. Before Preston could react, Jonathan's cold voice cut through the air: "Preston, head to the green room. The director wants to speak with you."

Preston looked bewildered. Jonathan glanced up at the drone, happily soaring overhead. His sharp gaze was chilling.

From the monitor, Jason met Jonathan's stare and shivered. This was one of the terms Jonathan had set for joining the show: he had the right to make requests during recording or even stop the show, covering any losses incurred. As director, Jason had to cooperate.

Jason immediately said, "Preston, please go to the green room. The production team has a secret mission for you."

Preston was doubtful, but relieved at the chance to leave; he was near his breaking point. He stood and walked toward the green room. Cynthia remained half-lying on the bed, her black, naturally curly hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall. Her makeup was minimal, almost bare-faced, but her captivating eyes could steal souls. She lazed about like a cat, yet every movement radiated charm and allure.

Cynthia lazily sat up, tossing Jonathan's jacket aside. Her gaze held no sign of acknowledging him; instead, a hint of disdain was present.

"Jonathan, do you have any other business?"

Jonathan stared at her. His mood in the past few days had been stormy, dark, and brooding. Despite his attempts at explanation, Cynthia remained uninterested. Their secret was out, and he still needed to plan his next move, frustrated by his inability to manage even basic relationships. Cynthia was caught in Whitney's web, and he speculated daily about Whitney's motives, wondering how she would react upon discovering Preston's feelings for Cynthia. Whitney was due to return to the country soon.

10:33 Fri, Nov 80 (Note: This date is likely incorrect. November only has 30 days.)

Chapter 169 (Note: The chapter number repeats. This should be corrected.)

He needed to address these matters before then. "Cynthia, your clothes are wet. Go change into something dry." He found her clothes an eyesore. The waves had crashed, wetting the hem of her white shirt.

Cynthia gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Mind your own business, okay?"

She stood and left, not heading toward the tent. Nina approached Jonathan, followed by the photographer. Nina saw Jonathan's anger; his fists were clenched, veins prominent.

The photographer asked, "Jonathan, are we still shooting?"

Jonathan glanced at him, and the photographer wisely retreated.

Nina gently tugged Jonathan's sleeve. "Jonathan, what's wrong?"

He calmed himself, resuming his usual demeanor. "I'm fine, Nina. Go rest; I just need some time alone."

Nina remained silent. Jonathan left, heading in Cynthia's direction. Nina felt a chill.

Cynthia was heading toward the forest, hoping to find something tasty for lunch—perhaps even a wild rabbit. But before reaching the forest, near a rocky wall, a force yanked her arm, dragging her into a crevice.

A hand clamped over her mouth. She instantly knew it was Jonathan; he loved surprise attacks. She wanted to scream, to refuse to tolerate him any longer, but the narrow crevice pinned her tightly.

Jonathan had planned this. He held her wrists behind her back, covering her mouth with his other hand. Cynthia had no idea what he was doing, but deep down, she resisted. She bit his hand, releasing her bottled-up frustration. She tasted blood.

Jonathan winced but didn't let go, his deep eyes fixed on her. They locked eyes. Initially, it was defiance, but then she saw heartache and deep affection in his gaze.

She paused, then noticed Skippy darting about outside the crevice, seemingly searching for something. It hit her: Jonathan was trying to avoid the drone.

The drone, unable to find anyone, returned. Jonathan still held her. Cynthia cursed under her breath; his eyes could warm a dog's heart. He had always tried to cheer her up this way, using his wounded, affectionate gaze, and she always gave in. But not now!

She glared back. He seemed surprised, finally removing his hand.

"Jonathan, stop pretending. I'm not buying it anymore."

His eyebrow rose. He wasn't pretending; he hadn't looked at her properly in a long time.

"I need to talk to you," Jonathan said.

"I don't want to hear any of your nonsense," Cynthia replied.

SEND GIFT (This appears to be unrelated and should be removed.)