The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 151

151 Chapter 151 A Man Laid Bare

Blanche’s POV 1

Vincent leaned against the floor–to–ceiling window, his coat draped carelessly over his shoulders. His wrinkled shirt clung to the defined

lines of his chest and abs.

His long legs stretched out straight, flat against the floor.

When Vincent’s gaze found me, accusation burned in his eyes. “Why did you lie to me?” he demanded.

I frowned, genuinely confused. “Vincent, I have no idea what you mean.”

Vincent was clearly wasted, barely holding it together.

After hearing my response, he slammed his palm against his own face. “I’m pathetic. So many women out there, and I can’t get you out of

my damn head.”

Real tears streaked down his cheeks as he spoke.

Watching him break down like this made my chest tighten.

I reached for his arm. “Vincent, you’re drunk.”

The moment Vincent saw my hand move toward him, something dark flashed in his eyes.

He seized my wrist and yanked me against him, crushing me in his arms.

He held me so tight I could barely breathe.

My throat pressed against Vincent’s shoulder as his arms locked around me like steel bands.

Vincent buried his chin in the curve of my shoulder, his voice raw. “Blanche, I’m not drunk.”

I tried pushing him away, but Vincent felt my resistance and only squeezed harder.

His grip was brutal, like he might snap me in two.

He spoke again, frustration bleeding through every word. “Blanche, you promised to spend the night with me. You gave me your word,

you never followed through. And now you’re back with Zain. Sometimes I want to shake some sense into you, but I can’t even do

that.”

but

His voice cracked. “Blanche, do you get it? I can’t hurt you, and I can’t stand watching you get hurt. I’m good to you, aren’t I? Why won’t

you pick me?”

Tears stung my eyes at his words.

He was always so untouchable, but here he was, drunk and clinging to me, saying things so desperate they shattered my heart.

He towered over everyone else. Rich, gorgeous, able to have any woman he wanted. Yet here he was, laying himself bare for me.

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151 Chapter 151 A Man Laid Bare

I stayed silent, unsure if Vincent meant what he was saying or if the alcohol was talking.

Nothing serious had ever happened between us, and I couldn’t believe I was captivating enough to get under his skin this deeply.

I didn’t know what to say, but I didn’t pull away either. Instead, I rubbed his back gently and whispered, “Vincent, you’re drunk. Let me

get you to bed.”

Vincent nodded. “Mm.”

His voice was gravelly and rough, like he’d been chain–smoking.

I tested the waters carefully. “Can I help you up?”

Vincent released me obediently. “Mm.”

I stood and helped Vincent off the floor.

He was massive, and completely drunk, so he was basically dead weight leaning on me.

After I managed to get him onto the bed, I sat on the edge and said softly, “Get some sleep.”

As I reached to pull the covers over him, Vincent’s hand shot out and grabbed mine.

He stared at me with the wounded look of a scorned lover. “Blanche, you really are heartless.”

I looked down at him, my eyebrows drawn tight. “Vincent, stop talking nonsense.”

Vincent released me, turning his head away in silence.

He was drunk, but not completely gone.

Vincent buried his face in the blankets, her scent flooding his senses.

It was addictive, impossible to ignore.

This bed was so comfortable that Vincent never wanted to get up.

He clutched the blanket, a strange pain twisting in his chest.

He was a grown man, nearly 6’3“, and here he was, actually crying in front of a woman.

He felt completely humiliated, but he couldn’t help himself.

I caught the sharp smell of alcohol on him and said, “Let me get a towel and clean you up a bit.”

Vincent snapped back, “I don’t need it.”

He was being stubborn. My blankets smelled too good and fresh, and I sensed he wanted to mark them with his own scent.

Seeing this, I threatened playfully, “If you don’t clean up, you’re not sleeping in this bed.”

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Vincent grumbled under his breath, “Fine, fine.”

I returned with a hot, damp towel and handed it to him.

Vincent took it and swiped at his face halfheartedly.

When he finished, Vincent shoved the towel back at me without looking. “Done.”

I knew he hadn’t really cleaned himself, but I let it slide.

I put the towel and basin away, and when I came back, Vincent had killed the overhead lights, leaving only the soft glow of the bedside

lamp.

There was no way I could kick Vincent out in his condition.

So I figured I’d grab a pillow from the bed and sleep on the couch.

But the moment I reached the bed, Vincent caught me off guard and dragged me onto it.

His body was scorching hot, and I was so shocked I couldn’t even react.

Vincent wrapped his arms around me from behind. He didn’t try anything else, just pressed his face into the side of my neck.

But when he spoke, his voice was full of desperation. “Let me hold you, just for a moment. Just for a moment, please.”

I tensed up, still trying to push him away.

When Vincent felt me pulling away, he just held me tighter, his voice breaking as he pleaded from behind me, “Blanche, let me be your

lover. If you love him, fine, but… don’t leave me with nothing.”

His voice shook with desperation as he begged, trembling.

I felt wetness on the back of my neck. I wasn’t sure if he was crying, but it made my stomach twist.

I stopped fighting and let him hold me, whispering, “Vincent, you’re drunk.”

At that, Vincent gripped my shoulders, spinning me to face him, his eyes cold and piercing. “You’re Blanche Callum. I’m Vincent Aarav.

The man you love most is Zain Jacob. Your daughter is Carry Jacob. You’re 5’6“. You like light blue and white. You studied medicine. Your

best friend is Amara Jerry, and…

He stumbled, his voice thick with emotion as he looked away. “So tell me, do I sound drunk to you?”

His words hit me like a punch, my nose burning with unshed tears. When I finally spoke, my voice was tired and defeated. “Vincent, why

do you have to torture yourself like this?”

Vincent pressed his face against my collarbone, not trying anything sexual, just leaning into me, breathing me in like I was his lifeline.

He muttered, “I don’t care. Maybe I’ll never matter as much as Zain, but I have to rank higher than Demetrius at least.”

I frowned and gave his shoulder a gentle push, but when Vincent wouldn’t budge, I held back.

I didn’t want Quinton hearing if things got loud.

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So I gave in and let Vincent hold me.

His breath was like fire against my neck, but I endured it.

My eyes stared blankly into the darkness as I patted his back gently, soothing him the way I would soothe Carry. I whispered, “Just go to

sleep, okay?”

Vincent mumbled sleepily, “Mm.”

He must’ve been completely wasted, because the second he closed his eyes, he was out cold.

I lay rigid as a board, not daring to move, and only when my entire body went numb did I finally drift off, completely exhausted.

Half–asleep, I suddenly felt someone watching me.

I was a light sleeper, and the feeling disturbed me enough to make me open my eyes.

The first thing I saw was Vincent’s face.

He was sitting cross–legged on the bed, just staring at me, completely motionless.

He wasn’t smiling at all, and I had no clue what was running through his mind.

Seeing him like this, I realized all that stuff he’d said earlier was just drunken rambling.

I didn’t take it seriously, just gave him a small smile and asked, “Feeling better?”

Vincent didn’t respond. He got up from the bed, grabbed his coat, and walked to the window.

The light was dim, and his shadow stretched long across the floor.

I smiled softly and said to him, “Vincent, don’t come back here anymore.”

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