Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 182: Chapter 182: She Stripped Herself Bare

"Quentin Blackwood, where are you? Why is there a..."

Before Joy Sheridan could finish, Quentin Blackwood had already hung up.

He put down his phone, walked over to Ivy Sherwood, and twisted open a bottle of water, handing it to her.

He even patted her on the back to help her vomit more comfortably.

Ivy Sherwood threw up for a while, then rinsed her mouth. Quentin Blackwood handed her a tissue. "Do you still feel sick?"

Ivy Sherwood wiped her mouth and shook her head. She tried to shrink back under the covers but was stopped by Quentin Blackwood.

She had vomited so suddenly that some of it had gotten on her clothes. He couldn’t just stand by and watch her sleep like that.

There wasn’t a part of Ivy Sherwood’s body he hadn’t seen or touched. Quentin Blackwood wasn’t a shy man. Without a change in his expression, he placed his well-defined hands on her clothes, undid the buttons, and took the shirt off her.

Quentin Blackwood had just tossed her dirty clothes aside when he turned back to a sight that made his blood run hot.

Probably because she was uncomfortable, Ivy Sherwood unhooked her bra, and her snow-white "bunnies" popped out.

She had an excellent figure—slim where she should be, yet full where it counted.

His eyes darkened instantly, the flames deep within his pupils no longer concealable.

’If I hadn’t followed Ivy Sherwood today, hadn’t followed her to the club, would she have been taken away by that man? Would *he* be the one seeing this right now?’

Just as Quentin Blackwood was lost in thought, Ivy Sherwood’s hands moved to her pants.

Before Quentin Blackwood could even react, she had stripped herself completely bare with a few swift movements.

It was too late for Quentin Blackwood to dress her again. He could only watch as Ivy Sherwood buried herself back under the covers.

She acted as if nothing had happened. Having thrown up, she felt much better and slept even more soundly than before. But it was Quentin Blackwood who was left stunned in place.

The image of her snow-white body lingered in his mind. With her clothes scattered on the floor, it looked like a scene from a TV show, as if he had been the one to strip her.

Quentin Blackwood’s blood ran hot, and a fire ignited within him. But the woman in the bed was oblivious to the danger.

Her simple, effortless movements had tugged at another’s heartstrings.

Her small face was flushed. She must have been having a sweet dream, as the corners of her lips were slightly upturned. There were still faint, dried tear tracks on her palm-sized face.

Her makeup was quite waterproof; it hadn’t smudged. Her long, curled lashes were like two tiny brushes.

’She has such an ordinary appearance, nothing special about her. So why does she hold this fatal attraction for me?’

Quentin Blackwood watched Ivy Sherwood like this for a long while. Afraid he would lose control and rip the covers off her at any moment, he finally went into the bathroom and stayed there for a full hour.

...

Having been hung up on, Joy Sheridan clutched her phone tightly. Panic seized her heart, as if something important was slipping away from her world.

This had never happened before. Quentin Blackwood was almost never around women, let alone have one in his room.

’So who is it?’

Lustre wasn’t a particularly large city, and DG’s headquarters were in Aethelgard. Yet after Quentin Blackwood went to Lustre, he never came back to Aethelgard.

’No wonder Quentin Blackwood won’t come back. There must be some little vixen over there who has him hooked!’

She hadn’t been there for long last time and hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

’Who is it? Which woman? I have to drag her out into the open!’

’Quentin Blackwood can only be mine! I will never let another woman snatch him away. Anyone who covets Quentin should have their eyes gouged out. Anyone who touches him should have their hands chopped off. And anyone who sleeps with him... deserves to be torn to pieces!’

Joy Sheridan was nearly driven mad by jealousy. ’Doesn’t Quentin Blackwood always look down on every woman? Why this time...?’

Joy Sheridan wished she could fly to Lustre right now and drag that woman out.

’I have to find out who she is!’

Joy Sheridan didn’t know anyone in Lustre. After some thought, the only one she could turn to was Ivy Sherwood.

Although the talk of breaking off the engagement was causing a huge stir, as long as the Blackwood Family didn’t call it off, Ivy Sherwood was still technically Silas Blackwood’s.

Ivy Sherwood was also one of the few people who might have a chance to get close to Quentin Blackwood. If she used a mix of threats and promises, perhaps Ivy Sherwood would help her keep an eye on things.

Joy Sheridan called Ivy Sherwood. The call went through, but no one answered.

Ivy Sherwood was sleeping soundly in bed. Quentin Blackwood had placed her phone on the nightstand, and he was currently showering in the bathroom.

When no one picked up, Joy Sheridan was so angry she almost smashed her phone.

She felt as if Quentin Blackwood was slipping further and further away from her. A dense panic enveloped her heart.

Joy Sheridan’s face was twisted in a crazed expression, a madness bordering on pathological.

’I really like Quentin Blackwood. I love him so much. I’ve loved him for so many years. I must become his bride, no matter what it takes!’

...

As the night deepened, some slept soundly, like Ivy Sherwood. Others, like Quentin Blackwood holding her, enjoyed a rare night of good sleep. And then there were those destined for a sleepless night, like Joy Sheridan and Anna Nash.

The sky slowly turned the color of a fish’s pale belly as dawn broke. The hotel room’s curtains weren’t fully drawn, and the morning light streamed through the gap, illuminating the white bed.

The two people in the bed were nestled together, the comforter askew across their bodies. One of Ivy Sherwood’s legs was draped over the top of it.

Her skin was smooth and delicate, appearing even a shade or two whiter than the bedding.

Her head was resting on a firm chest, the man’s hand was on her waist, and his head was bent over hers. No matter how you looked at it, the scene was incredibly tender.

They looked like lovers long married, embracing in sweet, blissful sleep.

Before long, a clamor of voices erupted from outside. "We received an anonymous tip that Miss Ivy Sherwood is meeting a man in this room. Is this tip accurate?"

"Is Miss Sherwood having a one-night stand to get back at Young Master Blackwood? Will there be any changes to the engagement between the Sherwood Company and the Blackwood Group? If Miss Sherwood is caught with another man, will she apologize like Young Master Blackwood did? Will he forgive her?"

Outside the door, the media, having received the tip, had swarmed the area.

They also had room keys, but having learned their lesson from last time, they didn’t dare rush in rashly.

The reporters all waited outside, but no one dared to make the first move. Just yesterday, after they had filmed Silas Blackwood’s scandal, the Blackwood Group had secretly retaliated, making every media outlet pay a heavy price.

However, just as the reporters were jostling, each trying to push another outlet to go first, the crowd suddenly parted to form a path.

Silas Blackwood, his face dark, limped toward them.

He was still in a hospital gown, looking as if he had just rushed over from the hospital.

Everyone’s eyes snapped to Silas Blackwood in unison. Young Master Blackwood was here. Now there was a real show to watch.

If Ivy Sherwood was really in there with another man, this would be catching them in the act!