Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 184: Chapter 184: My Woman Is Naked. You Think I’ll Let You Look?

Under the covers, Ivy Sherwood had never imagined a situation like this. A wave of panic washed over her.

Exposing their situation was a small matter; she just didn’t want to cause Quentin Blackwood any trouble.

She didn’t want Quentin to be branded as the man who slept with his nephew’s fiancée. Even though she refused to acknowledge herself as Silas Blackwood’s fiancée, she knew how vicious the rumors online could be. She’d heard plenty and knew just how deeply they could wound.

This had nothing to do with Quentin Blackwood in the first place; there was no need to drag him into it.

’How did Silas Blackwood and the media know I was here? Who on earth told them?’

Under the covers, Ivy Sherwood clutched the bedsheets tightly. But she couldn’t possibly go out right now, because she wasn’t wearing a thing.

Silas Blackwood’s gaze fell on the lump under the covers. It was obvious someone was hiding in there.

He couldn’t imagine it—his own fiancée sleeping with his uncle.

Quentin Blackwood’s eyes were full of ice. "No. Get out!"

"Then pull back the covers and let me see. If it’s not Ivy Sherwood, I’ll leave immediately!" Silas Blackwood didn’t believe him.

The evidence was right in front of him. How could he possibly believe the person under the covers wasn’t Ivy Sherwood?

"My woman is naked. You think I’d let you look?"

The two words, "my woman," stabbed at Silas Blackwood. ’Since when had Ivy Sherwood become his uncle’s woman?’

"I’ll say this one last time: get out. I will give you an explanation."

The man’s voice was filled with such threat and pressure that the other reporters quickly left.

Silas Blackwood couldn’t withstand that kind of aura either and retreated from the room.

’Fine. Since Uncle said he’d give me an explanation, I’ll wait for it.’

Silas Blackwood and the reporters were waiting outside the door. They hadn’t left, determined to wait it out. Quentin Blackwood and the woman would have to come out eventually.

Once they had all gone, Ivy Sherwood, whose face was flushed from holding her breath, finally emerged from under the covers.

Her long hair was a mess, with some strands sticking to her cheeks. On her small, palm-sized face, her beautiful eyes flickered.

"I didn’t call the media. And this isn’t some scheme to break off the engagement. I’m not trying to frame you," Ivy Sherwood explained proactively, afraid Quentin Blackwood would misunderstand.

After all, she was in bed with Quentin Blackwood, with so many reporters outside, and she was trying to break off her engagement. Connecting all the dots, it was hard not to see it as suspicious.

Ivy Sherwood lowered her eyes. "Anyway, this started because of me, so I’ll resolve it. I promise you won’t be implicated."

"How are you going to resolve it?"

Ivy Sherwood bit her lip. "I have a way."

’With Silas Blackwood outside, this is the only way to dispel everyone’s suspicions.’

Quentin Blackwood, of course, knew what her plan was. "Beg me, and I can help you."

Ivy Sherwood shook her head. "This is my problem. I can solve it myself."

That was just how Ivy Sherwood was. If there was any way she could do something herself, she would never rely on others.

"Uncle, if you really want to help me, could you look after Iris for me instead? Please?"

Her eyes were still so bright, full of hope.

Quentin Blackwood’s Adam’s apple bobbed. The word "yes" almost escaped his lips.

"No."

’The answer isn’t surprising at all. I’ll just have to think of another way,’ she thought.

Ivy Sherwood bent down and picked up her clothes from the floor, intending to put them on. But before she could even unfold them, she caught a foul, sour smell.

Seeing her movement, the man spoke up. "You threw up on your clothes last night. I’ll have someone bring some over."

With that, Quentin Blackwood called Zane Linton and told him to deliver two sets of clothes—one for a woman, one for a man. "I’ll text you the specific address and sizes in a moment."

When Zane Linton heard the name of the hotel, he thought to himself, ’Just as I expected.’

’After President Blackwood parked the car yesterday, I had a feeling he couldn’t just leave Miss Sherwood be.’

’His nephew’s fiancée, of course, needs to be ’taken care of.’ And here President Blackwood is, taking care of her right into his bed.’

Ivy Sherwood froze for a second, then her face turned an even deeper shade of red. "I threw up on my clothes, so you took off my pants, too?"

’It’s not just my pants. What about my underwear?’

Ivy Sherwood peeked out from under the covers, wrapped up with only her head showing.

"Nice try, but you took off your own clothes, underwear, and pants."

’Is that what happened?’

Ivy Sherwood had no memory of it.

"I’ll go wash up then," Ivy Sherwood said, preparing to get up, still wrapped in the blanket.

However, when she pulled the blanket away, Quentin Blackwood was left with nothing to cover himself.

Quentin Blackwood didn’t have a habit of sleeping in his daytime clothes, and there were no pajamas here, so he was also wearing nothing at all.

And so, it wasn’t just his chest, but his entire body that was exposed.

Thank goodness the media wasn’t here, or this would be a whole different story.

Ivy Sherwood shot him a quick glance, her cheeks burning even hotter as she hastily pulled the blanket back over him.

"You should keep it." ’It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.’ Ivy Sherwood brazenly tossed her side of the blanket off and fled into the bathroom as if escaping.

The bathroom was fully equipped. The stench of alcohol on Ivy Sherwood was unbearable, so she took a quick shower first to wash away the strong smell.

’I smelled so bad, yet Quentin Blackwood didn’t seem to mind and even slept in the same bed with me.’

The hot water felt wonderful on her skin. After she finished showering, Ivy Sherwood went ahead and blow-dried her hair.

The hotel room had everything one could need, including makeup and makeup remover.

Ivy Sherwood picked up the makeup remover and wiped her face completely clean of cosmetics. Soon, a devastatingly beautiful face was reflected in the mirror.

The damp strands of hair at her forehead clung to her temples, dripping with water, giving her a look of pure, captivating charm. Her long, curled lashes trembled slightly, sending a few tiny droplets sliding down her flushed cheeks. Her skin was so delicate it looked like it would break at a touch.

She knew this was the only way to go out there and dispel the doubts of the people waiting outside. This was the only way to make them all understand that there was nothing between Quentin Blackwood and Ivy Sherwood—that she *wasn’t* Ivy Sherwood.

’Although, doing this will expose my secret to Quentin Blackwood.’

’But it’s the only way to get the best of both worlds and keep him from getting dragged into this.’

Ivy Sherwood was also thankful that she had never shown her true face to the public. Now, that fact would play a crucial role.

Just then, there was a knock on the bathroom door, followed by Quentin Blackwood’s voice.

"I’ve left the clothes outside the door for you."

"Okay, thanks."

The person in the mirror averted her gaze, walked to the door, opened it a crack, and reached out to pull the bag inside.

The bag had the logo of a major brand on it. It was a luxury brand; even their most basic item of clothing could cost hundreds of thousands.

Inside, besides a black, waist-cinching dress, there was also a bra and panties. They were indeed her size.

Ivy Sherwood recalled Quentin Blackwood saying on the phone, "I’ll text you the sizes in a moment." She had thought he only meant the dress size, but who knew he’d also get...

’Quentin Blackwood has never measured me, so how could he know so precisely!’

In addition to the clothes, there was also a pair of shoes—black high heels. The design was simple and elegant, without excessive embellishments. Ivy Sherwood was stunned that Quentin Blackwood even knew her shoe size.