Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 167: Chapter 167: Secretly Taking His Picture

Nina Scott turned to look for Ivy Sherwood, but she was nowhere to be found.

She picked up her phone to call Ivy, only to see a message from her.

’She left because something came up?’

She looked all around, but there was no sign of Ivy.

Ivy Sherwood followed Zane Linton to a nearby lounge.

Quentin Blackwood was sitting on the sofa, his long legs crossed. A laptop was open in front of him; he had been working for the entire flight.

He was rubbing the bridge of his nose, looking utterly exhausted.

"President Blackwood, Miss Sherwood is here to see you."

Quentin Blackwood’s hand stilled. He lifted his gaze and saw Ivy Sherwood.

He had been in business class and had seen Ivy and Nina Scott walking together as they deplaned. Quentin had no intention of disturbing her; he’d merely glanced at her a few extra times.

But who would have thought Zane Linton would go and bring her over.

"What are you doing here?"

"I..."

The question truly stumped Ivy. How was she supposed to explain her presence?

Quentin Blackwood didn’t know she had been to Aethelgard. After all, in everyone’s eyes, Ivy Sherwood was just an ordinary girl—a world apart from the beautiful Wendy Summers.

The person Quentin had met in Aethelgard was Wendy Summers, not Ivy Sherwood.

"Nina’s flight just landed. I’m here to pick her up!" Ivy found the perfect excuse.

After she spoke, Ivy watched Quentin’s expression. She saw him lower his gaze, seemingly not giving it a second thought.

"President Blackwood, the driver is waiting at the entrance. I have some urgent business to attend to. Miss Sherwood, I’ll have to entrust President Blackwood to you. Can you make sure he gets home safely?"

"I don’t think it’s on my way—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Zane Linton cut in, "Thank you, Miss Sherwood."

Ivy looked at Quentin. The way he was rubbing the bridge of his nose, he really did look like he was in pain.

’Is he really in pain or just faking it? Why not have Miss Sheridan take him home?’

Quentin raised his hand and looked at Ivy. "Come here."

Ivy was reluctant, but her feet moved faster than her mind, and she found herself already walking toward him.

"Do you know how to give a massage?" came his raspy voice.

"No," Ivy said curtly.

"I’ll teach you."

He took her hand and placed it on his temples. The nerves there were incredibly sensitive; an incorrect technique from a non-professional could easily cause problems.

But Quentin trusted her.

It felt as if a needle were twisting inside his temples, pressing on his nerves in an agony of pain.

Seeing him in this state, Ivy began to gently massage his temples.

Ivy walked behind Quentin and said, "If you trust me, then close your eyes."

Quentin trusted no one, and he never listened to anyone.

Yet, as soon as Ivy spoke, Quentin closed his eyes.

Ivy took a small bottle of perfume from her bag, spritzed it on her wrist, and then waved her hand in front of Quentin’s face.

The fragrance wasn’t overpowering, but it carried a deeply relaxing quality.

Ivy placed her hands on his temples and began to knead them gently. The light scent wafted around him, and the tension in his brow gradually smoothed away.

For years, he had been plagued by splitting headaches that left him sleepless night after night.

The restlessness in his heart seemed to quiet, and Quentin’s consciousness drifted as he finally found a moment of rest.

Seeing Quentin leaning against the sofa, apparently asleep, Ivy stopped her ministrations.

’Looks like my perfume works quite well. Certain types of incense can also help with sleep, but their scents are much stronger and not to everyone’s liking.’

Ivy lowered her gaze, her eyes falling on Quentin’s sleeping face.

’He really is handsome. A strong brow, sharp features... When he’s awake, he looks so cold and severe, his expression aloof. His presence is so intense, even scary. You don’t dare stare at him for too long.’

’But now that he’s asleep, that sense of distance is gone.’

’His nose is high and straight, his lips are thin, and his skin is unbelievably clear. They say beautiful women can be the downfall of men, but sometimes it works the other way around. With a face like that, it’s no wonder so many women are drawn to him.’

’But he’s so cold and says such cruel things. What on earth do they like about him? Is it just his face?’

Ivy stared, unblinking. She was determined to figure out just where this man’s charm came from.

Her heart hammered in her chest—THUMP, THUMP, THUMP. She picked up her phone, opened the camera, aimed it at Quentin’s face, and snapped a picture.

’As expected, only someone this good-looking could be so photogenic. There isn’t a single bad angle. If I ever go broke, I could sell his photos. I bet they’d fetch a nice price at auction.’

Before Ivy could put her phone away, she saw someone at the door staring at her, wide-eyed.

Ivy quickly pocketed her phone as the person walked in. "Hello, I’m President Blackwood’s driver. You must be Miss Sherwood? I saw the President hadn’t come out, so I thought I’d check on things."

"He’s resting. Let’s let him sleep a little longer."

"Of course," the driver agreed.

The atmosphere turned quiet, and Ivy felt a wave of embarrassment.

"Just now..."

The driver quickly held up three fingers. "I didn’t see a thing."

Ivy was speechless. "..."

She hadn’t even said anything, yet the driver was already protesting his innocence a little too loudly.

"Could I ask you a favor? Please don’t tell Quentin."

The words had barely left her mouth when a voice came from behind her. "What shouldn’t you tell me?"

Ivy spun around to see Quentin’s eyes were open.

He had only been asleep for a moment, not even twenty minutes.

But for Quentin, it had been enough. At the very least, his headache was gone.

"Nothing! It’s really nothing." Ivy hadn’t expected him to wake up so quickly. "Why don’t you sleep a little longer?"

"No need. We’re going to Norhaven."

"Right away." The driver headed out to get the car ready.

Ivy followed Quentin out and got into the car. She assumed he was heading back to Norhaven, but to her surprise, the car pulled up in front of her apartment building.

"Huh?" Ivy looked at her surroundings in confusion. "But I promised Secretary Linton I would see you safely back to Norhaven."

Quentin raised an eyebrow, his eyes, hidden in the shadows of the car, glinting with amusement. "You want to come back to Norhaven with me?"

"That’s not what I meant. I just made a promise to Secretary Linton."

"The driver is here. I don’t need you to escort me. Or are you hoping the driver will take you home after he drops me off?"

"I wasn’t thinking that at all!"

"Then go get some rest. I don’t need you to take me home," Quentin said coolly.

He knew Ivy had been busy the last couple of days, too. It was getting late, and if she went home now, she could shower and get a good night’s sleep. There was no need for her to make an extra trip.

"Alright, then. Text me when you get home." Ivy was about to get out of the car when she seemed to remember something. She rummaged through her bag, pulled out a pile of items, and placed them beside Quentin.

"This little cupcake is delicious, you should try it. And this candy is good, too. If you forget to eat and your blood sugar gets low, you can have a piece to get some energy."

"And this is medicine for stomach pain, take it if you need it."

Ivy pulled out everything she could find, not even realizing the note of concern and eagerness to share that had crept into her voice.

Some were local specialties from Aethelgard that weren’t available in Lustre, and she gave them all to Quentin without a second thought.

After handing everything over, Ivy waved at Quentin and prepared to get out. "I’m going now. Bye."

"Wait," Quentin stopped her.

"Is there something else?"

Quentin suddenly leaned in. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of Ivy’s hair.

His fingers brushed her earlobe, and she flinched away.

Her heart hammered uncontrollably, THUMP-THUMPING as if it would burst from her chest.

’What is he doing?’

"Don’t move."

Quentin leaned closer and closer, his handsome face almost touching hers. The feeling was all too familiar, and it sent Ivy into a panic.

[Author’s Note: I made some edits starting from Chapter 164 and added a short scene before the return to Lustre. To my dear readers who feel the story is a bit discontinuous, you can go back and review from Chapter 164!]