Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 180: Chapter 180: Calling Him a Heartless and Faithless Man

"Get out."

Quentin’s gaze was sharp. The sheer intimidating force and icy chill emanating from him left the other man frozen in place.

His gaze fell to the hand that had just touched Ivy Sherwood. In that instant, the man felt a stare as sharp as a blade, as if Quentin intended to chop his hand right off.

Her support gone, Ivy Sherwood’s body slumped downward.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Quentin caught her and pulled her into his arms.

Dizzy and dazed, Ivy Sherwood only registered that she had fallen into a familiar embrace.

’Such a pleasant scent, cool and crisp.’

’It’s nothing like that repulsive smell from before. This feels so safe.’

She nuzzled against Quentin’s chest. He looked down at her, then bent over and swept her up into his arms.

The stench of alcohol was overpowering. Ivy Sherwood must have had a lot to drink.

"Hey! Don’t you understand first come, first served? I saw her first," the man said, refusing to give up.

’If I can’t complete the task John assigned me, how am I supposed to report back?’

’But this woman is so plain. How could a guy this handsome be into her?’

He couldn’t just stand by and watch her get snatched away. The man reached out to stop them, trying to grab Ivy Sherwood.

But Quentin grabbed his wrist and twisted it sharply.

A sharp SNAP, like the sound of a bone breaking, echoed in the air.

"Aargh!" the man screamed in agony.

The scream jostled Ivy, who pushed herself up in Quentin’s arms. Her eyes were hazy as she looked around.

"Is someone slaughtering a pig? Is it the New Year already?" she mumbled.

Quentin’s voice was as menacing as a demon from hell. "Still not gone?"

"Going, going, I’m gone..." The thug could tell this man was bad news.

He’d never encountered anyone with an aura like that.

He gritted his teeth. He was furious, but there was nothing he could do. He’d just have to go back and tell John he’d failed and see if John could find another opportunity.

The thug left, but he didn’t go far. He hid nearby, watching them.

Quentin carried Ivy Sherwood toward a luxury car parked nearby.

"Ivy, it’s getting late. Don’t you have work tomorrow? I’ll take you home."

Ivy was in a daze, catching only fragments of what he said. Something about her name... something about tomorrow... and the words "take you home."

"I’m not going back! Not going back..."

She hated Timothy Sherwood. She didn’t want to see him.

She couldn’t understand how a father like Timothy Sherwood could even exist.

’Pah! He’s a monster. He doesn’t deserve to be a father at all.’

Just thinking of his name made Ivy’s stomach churn. She felt like she was going to be sick.

’Timothy Sherwood is even more disgusting than Silas Blackwood. No, they’re both just as disgusting.’

Ivy felt something in her hand. She held it up, trying to get a good look at it. It seemed to be a hotel key card.

’When did I get a room?’

Ivy had drunk so much she couldn’t remember anything, and her words were just drunken ramblings.

"I... I have a room. I already got a room."

"Hey, handsome... want to get a room with me?" Ivy asked, her half-lidded eyes misty.

Quentin looked at the key card in Ivy’s hand. His eyes narrowed, and his voice turned dangerous. "You want to get a room with me?"

’Silas Blackwood has so many women, so what’s wrong with me getting a room with someone?’

’Besides, this guy is gorgeous. His features are flawless... and there’s something familiar about him.’

Ivy hooked her arm around Quentin’s neck, studying his face intently before murmuring, "You look a lot like Quentin Blackwood."

The corner of Quentin’s mouth lifted into a slight smile. ’Not bad,’ he thought. ’Even drunk, she can still remember my name.’

But her next words made his smile freeze on his face.

"That cold, heartless man," she added, her voice tinged with grievance.

’Me? Cold and heartless?’

"I’ll give you a chance to rephrase that."

’If I were really cold and heartless, I wouldn’t have spent the entire day following her around because I was worried.’ ’

’Nor would I have been here to see some thug bothering her.’

Still in Quentin’s arms, Ivy struggled to lift her head, trying to get a clear look at the man before her.

Finally, she tilted her head and grinned. "You’re way more handsome than he is!"

Quentin’s breath hitched.

’Whatever,’ he thought. ’She’s just drunk.’

’If she wants to get a room with me, then I’ll be happy to oblige.’

Quentin plucked the key card from her hand, glanced at the hotel name and room number, and then carried her toward the building.

He assumed it was a room Ivy had booked for herself and didn’t think anything more of it.

The thug hadn’t left. He stealthily followed them.

He saw the man and Ivy enter the hotel. They didn’t stop at the front desk but went straight upstairs. They must have gone to the room he’d booked.

The thug gloated. This was a godsend.

Even though it wasn’t him with her, the objective was basically accomplished.

He hurried over to a private room nearby to tell Gideon Gordon and Anna Nash what had happened.

Anna Nash frowned. "Are you sure they went to that room?"

"I’m positive. I watched the elevator. It went to that floor. No doubt about it."

A smile played on Anna Nash’s lips. "Excellent. But who was the man who cut in? What did he look like?"

"He was really handsome. Looked cool," the thug said.

’A handsome guy is actually into Ivy Sherwood?’

’Could it be someone she knows?’

’It can’t be Silas Blackwood, can it?’

Anna Nash pulled up a photo of Silas Blackwood and showed it to the thug. "Was it this man?"

The thug glanced at it. "No."

He kept the second half of his thought—that the man was much more handsome than the one in the photo—to himself.

’As long as it’s not Silas Blackwood, this will be easy.’

’I don’t care who it is. As long as it’s some other man, it’s fine.’

"Go back and keep an eye on them. Don’t let that man leave. I’m going to call the media. By tomorrow, Ivy Sherwood’s reputation will be in tatters!"

’Even if it’s the same old trick, a trick that works is a good trick.’

Tomorrow morning, she would call Silas Blackwood over to catch them in the act. Then she’d see if Silas still wanted a woman who had slept with another man.

...

At the hotel next door, Quentin carried Ivy upstairs and used the key card from her hand to open the room door.

As the door opened, the lights flickered on.

The sight of the bed inside brought a sliver of sobriety back to Ivy.

Thea Sherwood’s fate and the image of Charlie Rhodes’s face flashed through her mind, and a primal fear gripped her.

"Where are you taking me? Did you bring me here to get a room? No! I’m not that kind of person!"

As she spoke, Ivy started struggling to get out of Quentin’s arms, trying to run away.

The woman twisted and squirmed in his arms, her body rubbing against his.

Soon, Quentin felt his mouth go dry, as if a fire was igniting within him.

"Let’s get one thing straight. You’re the one who brought me here to get a room!" Quentin kicked the door shut with his foot and tossed Ivy onto the bed.

The phrase "get a room" must have frightened her, because Ivy scrambled to her feet, ready to bolt. "I don’t want to get a room!"

Quentin grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her back.

His voice was laced with a raw edge. "Too late!"