Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 214: Chapter 214: Ivy Sherwood: I’m His Wife and Have No Intention of Divorcing

An old woman was selling small trinkets at a stall. The stall wasn’t large, and everything looked handmade.

She looked quite elderly, and beside her, an old man kept her company. They looked like a happy couple.

Ivy Sherwood and Quentin Blackwood stopped in their tracks. Ivy bent down. "I’d like to take a look at this."

There were also little hand-knitted bunnies, which were very cute.

Ivy picked one up. "Ma’am, did you make this?"

The old woman smiled kindly. "He made this. I’m all thumbs and can never get it right. But him? Ever since he was a boy, he’s been more nimble-fingered than any girl."

"So, it sounds like you and your husband have known each other since you were kids?"

The old woman said, "We’ve known each other for over seventy years. He lived next door to me growing up. Kindergarten, elementary, middle school, high school... I just couldn’t shake him."

Although she had a look of mock annoyance, her face was beaming with happiness.

Ivy smiled. "That’s wonderful. You two are so happy."

For childhood sweethearts to grow old together, staying by each other’s side for so many years—that’s truly rare.

The old woman chuckled. "You and your boyfriend look very happy too. I’m sure you’ll be like us, still together when your hair turns white."

’Boyfriend? How could she think that!’

Afraid Quentin Blackwood would be angry about the misunderstanding, Ivy quickly tried to explain, "We’re not—"

Before Ivy could finish, Quentin’s long fingers picked up a pink hair clip and fastened it in her hair, cutting her off.

"Why are you putting a clip in my hair?"

Ivy reached up to take it out, but Quentin stopped her. "It suits you."

There happened to be a mirror nearby. When Ivy looked up, she saw her reflection.

Her hair was long with big, wavy curls. She usually wore it up, but now it was down. A few strands had fallen forward, blocking her view, but the little clip had pinned them perfectly in place.

The clip was a soft, delicate pink and actually looked quite nice.

’It really does seem to suit me.’

She watched as Quentin picked up other clips and put them in her hair too. He even had her try on many of the other small trinkets.

"I can’t wear all this," Ivy said, looking at how her hands and hair were now covered in accessories.

Quentin looked at her with satisfaction, then turned to the old woman. "We’ll take all of these."

Ivy was speechless.

Quentin paid, and Ivy took everything off, leaving only the first pink clip in her hair.

As they left, the old woman smiled and wished them lasting happiness. Ivy tried to explain, "We’re really not a couple."

’How could I ever be worthy of him!’

Just then, however, the POP of a traditional popcorn machine nearby drowned out her voice.

"Let’s go." Quentin was already striding away. Unsure if he had heard her explanation, Ivy had no choice but to hurry after him.

Still, judging by Quentin’s expression, he didn’t seem angry about the old woman calling them a couple.

The two continued to stroll, and the handsome man and beautiful woman duo was always eye-catching. They turned quite a few heads.

Many men noticed Ivy, but unfortunately for them, the aura radiating from Quentin was too powerful. One look and you knew to keep your distance. His expression practically screamed, ’This woman is mine. Come any closer and I’ll break your hands.’

His kingly air kept other men from daring to approach; they could only steal a few more glances before giving up.

For the women, however, this cold, authoritative presence was all the more captivating. Some were so infatuated they didn’t even care that Ivy was right beside him.

After mustering their courage, a couple of girls approached, blushing. "Hi, handsome. Can I get your number?"

’He’s just too handsome. I’d definitely regret it if I didn’t at least try.’

Quentin frowned and pulled Ivy, who had been looking at something else, over to his side.

He leaned in close to Ivy’s ear. "You brought me to a place like this. You should be responsible for my safety."

He was very close, and to any onlookers, their relationship looked anything but ordinary.

Someone with more sense might have already left, but these girls were persistent. They were probably fantasizing that even if the two were a couple, they could still get his contact info. If the couple ever broke up, they’d have their chance.

Ivy knew Quentin disliked crowded places to begin with; she was the one who had dragged him here.

It was only right that she handle this for him now.

"Sorry, he’s... socially awkward."

"That’s okay! We just want to exchange contacts, we’re not going to do anything. You shouldn’t mind, right, miss?"

Ivy’s brow furrowed at their words. ’Even though I was being polite, they should have understood I was turning them down.’

"He’s an old man. He doesn’t socialize." Ivy felt she was already being more than generous.

"But he has a phone number, right?" The two girls were still not giving up.

Seeing their relentless pestering, Ivy was starting to lose her patience. "He’s married. With two kids. They’re a loving couple with a happy family, and they have no plans to divorce. Understand?"

The two girls glared at Ivy. "And who are you?"

’Oh, whatever. It’s not the first time I’ve pretended to be a couple or husband and wife with Quentin. I even called him ’hubby’ in the dressing room that one time.’

"I’m the mother of his children, of course. And I’m very possessive. I don’t like other people adding my husband on social media. Anyone with half a brain should understand what I mean. If you have any sense of shame, you wouldn’t still be standing here."

Although the two girls were clearly reluctant to give up, they couldn’t keep pestering her after she’d said all that.

They hurried away. Ivy sighed. ’These girls nowadays certainly are brave, but you have to know how to read the room.’

’If someone says no once or twice, you really shouldn’t keep pushing.’

"The mother of my children?"

"Very possessive?"

"Don’t like people adding your husband on social media?"

Quentin’s voice came from behind her, repeating each of her claims one by one.

It hadn’t felt like a big deal when she was saying it, but hearing the words come out of Quentin’s mouth, it all felt a little... strange.

The tips of her ears turned red. "I was just talking nonsense," Ivy said. "It was a desperate situation. I didn’t think those girls would leave otherwise."

"I was just running my mouth a bit. It’s not like we’ll ever see them again, so the story won’t get out!"

Ivy quickly changed the subject. She gave a faint smile, and her eyes, reflecting the myriad city lights, glittered like exploding fireworks—dazzling and brilliant.

She gazed at Quentin like this, tilting her head slightly as a lock of dark hair fell, partially obscuring her face.

"You’re attracting so much attention," Ivy said. "Maybe I should buy you a mask to wear? This face of yours is too flashy, too distracting. It should be hidden away."

The night deepened, and stars glittered like diamonds, illuminating the dark expanse of the sky.

Moonlight dappled the ground. Though they stood on a bustling, crowded street, his dark eyes reflected only her small figure.

’Attracting attention... The one who should be wearing a mask is her!’