Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 157: Chapter 157: Ivy Sherwood Appears, A Peerless Beauty

Quentin Blackwood’s seat was the best in the house, offering a perfect view of the show.

The event organizer personally escorted Quentin Blackwood to his seat. He sat down, crossing his long, slender legs. His impassive face gave no hint of his thoughts.

He was like a proud, solitary king. His indifferent gaze, directed forward, seemed to look down upon the world, his dark pupils calm and undisturbed.

The organizer had gone to great lengths to invite him and wanted to use the opportunity to discuss something with Quentin Blackwood, but he remained silent for the most part.

Just as the organizer was about to say more, Quentin Blackwood reminded him, "The show is about to start."

The organizer finally shut his mouth and sat down next to Quentin Blackwood, quietly watching the fashion show.

This fashion show had brought together top designers from all over the world; its prestige was exceptionally high.

Nina Scott’s team was scheduled to appear in the latter half of the show, so it would be a while.

Most fashion shows are more or less the same. Besides the suitability of the clothes, the models themselves are also extremely important.

For an event like this, the major companies and design studios would usually hire top models who brought their own fame.

Furthermore, a professional model knows how to showcase her own beauty, making you see her charm before drawing your attention to the clothes she’s wearing.

The designs from these famous studios were indeed excellent; they knew how to highlight a model’s best features.

The venue wasn’t exactly quiet. Many people were murmuring amongst themselves, discussing not only the clothes but also the models.

Quentin Blackwood, however, sat there impassively from start to finish, his eyes showing not a ripple of emotion.

A closer look would reveal that his gaze wasn’t on the stage at all.

Quentin Blackwood had no interest in this sort of thing. If it weren’t for the organizer’s repeated invitations, he wouldn’t have come.

Quentin Blackwood’s fingers tapped lightly on his knee. His mind, however, was on work documents. Recalling an issue in a file he’d reviewed earlier, Quentin Blackwood took out his phone and sent a message to Zane Linton, telling him to re-verify it.

Before he could put his phone away, Quentin Blackwood heard a collective gasp from the people around him.

The slightly noisy venue suddenly fell silent, as if everyone had collectively held their breath.

Only then did Quentin Blackwood raise his head. With just one glance, he found he couldn’t look away.

A woman wearing a veil was walking down the runway.

Unlike the other models, whose every inch exuded bold confidence, this woman was clearly tinged with a hint of nervousness.

And from her posture and movements, it was obvious she wasn’t a professional model. Yet her figure looked even better than a model’s.

But it was precisely because of this that she stood out from the rest. Amidst an aesthetic that had become fatiguing to watch, she captured everyone’s attention at first sight.

What’s more, completely unlike anyone else, she wore a silk scarf over her face, obscuring the lower half. Your gaze would naturally fall upon her eyes, and then you would be stunned.

Those eyes were simply too beautiful—ethereal and enchanting, as if they could speak. A single glance could make your heart flutter and capture your entire attention.

Because you couldn’t see her whole face, it left infinite room for imagination. Many people wanted to go up there, pull away that scarf, and see just how devastatingly beautiful the face beneath it truly was.

Their minds even conjured a thousand visions of nation-toppling beauty. ’What kind of earthly fairy is this? Breathtakingly peerless.’

Quentin Blackwood’s gaze deepened, his eyes fixed on the woman on the runway. The corners of his mouth lifted into a slight curve he himself didn’t even notice.

’I thought this was just another ordinary show, but to think I’d see Ivy Sherwood here.’

It seemed that, aside from him, no one here knew this was Ivy Sherwood.

For some reason, this thought put Quentin Blackwood in a very good mood.

Tonight, Ivy Sherwood was, without a doubt, the most outstanding of all the models.

In that case, many people would surely try to look up information on Ivy Sherwood.

Quentin Blackwood leaned his head toward the organizer. "This model, what’s her name?"

The organizer immediately had someone look it up and quickly provided a name Quentin Blackwood had never heard before.

"Is there a profile on her?"

The organizer immediately brought over a tablet. "Yes."

When Nina Scott submitted the name, she had used the original model’s name. That model had injured her leg at the last minute, and Nina Scott knew Ivy Sherwood didn’t want to use her own identity, so she hadn’t changed the model’s information.

That model was just a contractor and not from Lustre, so any investigation would only lead back to her, not to Ivy Sherwood at all.

And that model had no idea who had replaced her.

Nina Scott had been extremely thorough in her considerations before daring to let Ivy Sherwood come.

Quentin Blackwood glanced through it casually before returning the tablet to the organizer. "If anyone asks about her, you know what to do, right?"

"Yes, yes, of course." The organizer wasn’t an idiot.

’President Blackwood is this concerned about someone’s profile? He must have some plans for her, and he definitely doesn’t want anyone else looking her up.’

He wouldn’t let this information leak.

Just as shocked were the people a few rows back.

"Brother, she looks so much like our aunt," even Miles Mercer commented. He truly thought she looked just like her, especially those eyes.

Although he had mostly only seen his aunt in a few rare photographs, she was truly beautiful—the kind of stunning beauty that left a deep impression. He would never forget those eyes.

Xavier Mercer stared intently at the person on the runway. "She does."

’Those eyes... I think I’ve seen them before.’

The last time, at a restaurant, a woman had accidentally bumped into him, and he’d thought her eyes looked a lot like their aunt’s.

He had looked into it afterward. The woman was from Lustre, with the surname Shen, he recalled.

After a brief look at her profile, Xavier Mercer concluded that, from all appearances, she likely wasn’t his aunt’s daughter, so he hadn’t investigated further.

In the seat next to them, Charlie Rhodes’s eyes were glued to the woman on the runway, practically drooling.

’She’s gorgeous. Who is she? I need to know everything about her, right now.’ Charlie Rhodes immediately ordered someone to investigate.

Seeing Charlie Rhodes staring intently at the woman on the runway, Selene Sherwood felt a pang of insecurity. She quickly leaned against him and hugged his arm. "Why are you staring at the pretty girl instead of me? Do you think they’re prettier than I am?"

Charlie Rhodes answered perfunctorily, "Of course not. My baby is the prettiest, of course."

Ivy Sherwood quickly walked to the center of the runway. Her gaze had been fixed forward, and it was about time to turn back.

However, as she drew her gaze back, she suddenly caught sight of the man in the very center of the front row. Ivy Sherwood almost stumbled.

Thankfully, her reflexes were quick. She only paused for a moment before starting her walk back.

But inside, Ivy Sherwood was too stunned to speak, her beautiful eyes wide with shock.

’How could this be? Am I seeing things? How is Quentin Blackwood here?’