Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 147: Chapter 147: Rubbing Her Leg Under the Table, Flirting With Me?

Quentin Blackwood was sitting directly across from Ivy Sherwood, his expression placid. It was impossible to tell if he was pleased or not.

Ivy Sherwood felt a suffocating tension hanging in the air, especially with Joy Sheridan by Quentin Blackwood’s side.

’He tells me to stay away from other men, yet here he is, bringing another woman to dinner.’

With that thought, Ivy Sherwood felt she had nothing to feel guilty about.

"I didn’t expect Ivy Sherwood to be here," Joy Sheridan finally spoke up.

The addition of another person made Joy Sheridan even more displeased.

Ivy Sherwood gave a slight nod. "Yes, I was just in the restroom. I just didn’t expect that you and Miss Sheridan would be coming to eat here as well, Uncle."

Joy Sheridan ignored Ivy Sherwood, eyeing the cutlery the waiter had just brought over. "Who knows if this stuff is even clean."

Nina Scott wanted to roll her eyes into the back of her head. "I suppose morning dew is cleaner. Some people find fault with everything. Why don’t they just drink dew all day? Right, Ivy?"

Ivy Sherwood: "..."

’She had no idea what was going on. How had Nina and this Joy Sheridan already started picking a fight?’

"Nina Scott, who do you think you’re talking about?!" Joy Sheridan wasn’t a fool; she knew exactly who the comment was aimed at.

Quentin Blackwood tapped his fingers on the table. Joy Sheridan, who had been about to let loose a string of curses, abruptly bit her tongue.

"Let’s just eat first," Seth Scott interjected, trying to smooth things over. "If Miss Sheridan feels the cutlery isn’t clean, we can ask the waiter for a new set."

"Whatever. For Quentin’s sake, I’ll put up with it."

Ivy Sherwood kept her head down, eating in silence.

’Didn’t they say Quentin Blackwood disliked crowds? Why would he come and squeeze in at their table?’

’And what on earth did he mean by this? What was the meaning behind what he’d said in the dressing room?’

Ivy Sherwood couldn’t figure it out. She only felt the air grow thin and sweltering, and she felt restless, unable to find a comfortable position.

She was sitting with perfect posture, but she wanted to shift positions. Maybe crossing her legs would be more comfortable.

But as she lifted her leg, it brushed directly against another pair of long legs.

The person closest to her was Quentin Blackwood. She must have accidentally touched him!

Ivy Sherwood hastily retracted her leg, freezing in place.

Moments later, however, her phone buzzed with a message from "Death Exemption Token": "Flirting with me?"

But Ivy Sherwood’s phone was on the table beside her, and she didn’t see the message.

Unexpectedly, the long leg nudged against hers again. Ivy tried to pull away, but it pressed closer, its owner using their long reach to do as they pleased under the table.

No matter where Ivy Sherwood moved her leg, Quentin Blackwood’s always found it. The tip of his leather shoe would graze her calf.

’There are so many people here, yet he’s being so brazen.’

If someone were to drop something and bend down to pick it up, they would see one pair of long legs teasing another under the table.

While no one else seemed to notice anything, a quiet blush crept up Ivy Sherwood’s face.

She shot Quentin Blackwood a warning glare, but he acted as if he hadn’t seen it at all, the movements of his foot never ceasing.

Exasperated, Ivy Sherwood had no choice but to grab her phone to message Quentin Blackwood. Only then did she see the message he’d already sent her.

’She was stunned. She had only brushed against him by accident; how was that ’flirting’?’

Ivy Sherwood quickly replied: "Uncle, please behave!"

"If you weren’t flirting with me, then who were you trying to? If you were aiming for Seth Scott, you’d need to stretch your leg a little further."

Ivy Sherwood: "..."

"I just bumped into you by accident. Don’t read too much into it, Uncle."

The two of them hadn’t spoken a single word aloud, yet they were carrying on a full conversation on their phones.

Noticing this, Nina Scott spoke up. "Ivy, why are you on your phone while we’re eating?"

"That’s right, Quentin," Joy Sheridan chimed in with a pout. "Why are you on your phone too? Even if you’re busy with work, you don’t have to be working through dinner, do you?"

Just then, the dishes began to arrive. Seth Scott picked up the serving chopsticks and placed some food on Nina Scott’s plate first. "Nina, you’re so skinny. Eat more."

"Thanks, bro."

Seth Scott then served a piece to Ivy Sherwood, placing it on the plate in front of her. "Try this. It’s your favorite."

Instantly, Ivy Sherwood felt a sharp gaze from across the table lock onto her. The piercing look made her scalp tingle.

However, Ivy Sherwood chose to ignore Quentin Blackwood, simply saying, "Thank you."

"No need to be so polite with me," Seth Scott said, adding more food to her plate. "You’re even thinner than Nina. Eat more."

"You don’t have to—" Before Ivy Sherwood could finish her refusal, the man across from her spoke up.

"Mr. Scott, you’re so thoughtful, taking care of my nephew’s fiancée on his behalf. It almost makes me, her uncle, look negligent."

As he spoke, Quentin Blackwood also picked up his chopsticks—not the serving ones, but his own.

Quentin Blackwood picked up a piece of the same dish Seth had just served and placed it on Ivy’s plate. "I just didn’t realize Mr. Scott was so familiar with my nephew’s fiancée that he even knows what she likes to eat."

"Eat up, niece-in-law."

Ivy Sherwood: "..."

Quentin Blackwood’s action made the expressions around the table turn subtle. Nina Scott just thought that something about what he did felt... odd.

Seth Scott, on the other hand, felt extremely awkward. Ivy Sherwood did, after all, hold the title of Silas Blackwood’s fiancée, and Quentin Blackwood’s words were clearly a jab at him.

Joy Sheridan’s reaction was pure jealousy. What right did Ivy Sherwood have to eat food Quentin Blackwood had served her?

Joy Sheridan spoke up, "Quentin, serve me some too. I love that dish."

Quentin Blackwood glanced coldly at the dish on the table. "It’s right in front of you, isn’t it?"

You can reach it yourself.

Joy Sheridan whined, "But I want someone to serve it to me."

’She was trying to be a little cute and spoiled. She’d already put it like that; surely Quentin wouldn’t refuse to serve her, right?’

But who would have thought that Quentin Blackwood would simply beckon with his hand? A waiter immediately approached. "Hello, sir. How may I help you?"

"This young lady enjoys having her food served by others," Quentin said. "You’ll stay here and serve her whatever she wants."

Joy Sheridan’s face went pale with fury. How could Quentin do this!

"PFFT!" Nina Scott couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing.

’That was a beautiful move by Quentin Blackwood. So there is a cure for girls like her after all. Looks like this Quentin guy is sharper than he looks, not like some other men.’

The waiter, however, asked with genuine earnestness, chopsticks already in hand, "Miss, which dish would you like?"

"Get lost!" Joy Sheridan roared at the waiter before whipping her head around to face Quentin Blackwood. "You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Why can you serve her but not me?"

’It felt so unfair. Why did he only serve *that* Ivy Sherwood?’

’Ivy began to suspect that Quentin’s move had been deliberate. Did he know she didn’t want any trouble and intentionally made her a huge enemy just to punish her for eating with Seth Scott?’

’She couldn’t understand this man’s thinking. Or perhaps, she had never understood him at all.’

Quentin Blackwood’s expression was detached, his eyes showing no ripple of emotion.

"If you were my niece-in-law, I’d serve you too."