Chapter 266: Chapter 266: Tricking Her into Bed
"How about I call Zane Linton back? He probably didn’t get much rest either. I think he’d be perfect to stay here and keep you company while you sleep."
"Ivy Sherwood!" Quentin Blackwood ground out her name, then pressed his thin lips together, not saying another word.
"Well, President Blackwood seems perfectly fine and full of life, so I guess there’s nothing wrong. I’ll be on my way, then," Ivy Sherwood said deliberately.
"My stomach hurt all last night. I didn’t get much rest. I have a sleep disorder. I..."
"President Blackwood, is it that hard for you to say what you really mean? You saw that I didn’t rest all night, so you called me here to get some sleep, right?"
Quentin Blackwood turned his head to the side, refusing to admit it.
"You’re clearly worried about someone, yet you act so fierce. With such an unpleasant mouth, how could so many people still like..." Ivy Sherwood stopped before she could say "you," realizing it didn’t sound right and promptly shutting her mouth.
’Why would so many people like Quentin Blackwood? It must be because he’s worth it.’
’Just like now. He’s actually worried about me, isn’t he?’
"That’s not what I was thinking," Quentin Blackwood said coldly, refusing to admit it.
Ivy Sherwood knew he had a sharp tongue but a soft heart. She said, "I’m not sleepy. You’re the one who needs to rest the most, aren’t you?"
Quentin Blackwood lowered his gaze. ’It seems like Ivy Sherwood doesn’t want to stay here.’
’It looks like my little trick didn’t work.’
Quentin Blackwood looked at the IV drip in the back of his hand and reached to pull it out. Ivy Sherwood rushed over to stop him. "What do you think you’re doing?"
"Don’t move! If the needle gets dislodged and the drip doesn’t go into your vein, the back of your hand will swell up."
As Ivy Sherwood touched Quentin Blackwood’s hand, she realized how cold it was.
She quickly cupped his hand with both of hers, trying to warm it. "Why is it so cold? Are you cold?"
Quentin Blackwood simply looked up at her, as if dumbstruck.
"If you’re cold, you should put on more layers. You don’t have a cold or a fever on top of the stomach pain, do you?" Ivy Sherwood raised her hand again, pressing the back of it against Quentin Blackwood’s forehead to check his temperature.
"Cold," Quentin Blackwood said, just one word.
"Then lie down quickly and cover yourself with the blanket." Ivy Sherwood had Quentin Blackwood lie down.
Quentin Blackwood said, "Still cold."
"I’ll ask the nurse to get you another blanket then." ’It’s already summer; it can’t be that cold, can it?’
Just as Ivy Sherwood was about to turn, her wrist was grabbed. Quentin Blackwood’s grip was incredibly strong, and he pulled her back.
Ivy Sherwood stumbled forward from the momentum, falling onto the hospital bed.
Quentin Blackwood took the blanket and wrapped Ivy Sherwood in it with him. "This isn’t cold anymore."
Encircled by Quentin Blackwood’s strong arms, Ivy Sherwood didn’t dare to move. Her eyes widened as she stared at the face so close to hers. Quentin Blackwood’s eyes were closed, concealing all emotion.
His eyelashes were long and thick. From her current proximity, Ivy Sherwood could see every single one with perfect clarity.
Her heart was pounding even more fiercely than last night. Last night, Quentin Blackwood was probably drunk and didn’t know what he was doing. But now, Quentin Blackwood was sober—completely sober.
Ivy Sherwood didn’t dare to move. After a long moment, she came back to her senses and tried to push herself up, but Quentin Blackwood’s hold was surprisingly strong.
"Quentin Blackwood? Quentin Blackwood?" Ivy Sherwood called his name but got no response.
’Did he fall asleep?’
’Isn’t that a little too fast to fall asleep?’
Ivy Sherwood had no choice but to stay in that position. To make herself more comfortable, she kicked off her shoes and lay down beside Quentin Blackwood.
She gazed at his face, so peaceful and captivating.
After watching him for a while, perhaps because her head was on the pillow, drowsiness gradually crept in. And so, in Quentin Blackwood’s arms, Ivy Sherwood drifted off into a deep sleep.
Ivy Sherwood was very quiet when she slept; her breathing was almost inaudible. Feeling the person in his arms grow still, Quentin Blackwood opened his eyes.
’Ivy Sherwood is asleep.’ The corners of his lips curved up slightly. Holding her, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction.
The emptiness that had filled his heart for the past few days seemed to be filled at this very moment.
For the first time, Quentin Blackwood had the thought, ’If only time could stop right here.’
When Julian Grant heard that Quentin Blackwood had been hospitalized, he rushed to the hospital immediately.
’Wasn’t he fine when we talked on the phone this morning? How did he suddenly end up in the hospital? Is it that serious?’
Julian Grant arrived at the hospital, asked a nurse for the location of Quentin Blackwood’s room, and hurried over.
The rooms here were all VIP suites. Julian Grant knocked on the door, but there was no sound. Too worried to wait, he pushed the door open and went straight in.
"Quentin Blackwood? Are you okay? You scared me to death. You..." Julian Grant said as he walked inside.
However, as soon as he entered, he saw the mound the blanket made on the bed.
No matter how he looked at it, the size didn’t seem right for just one person.
As Julian Grant got closer, he saw two heads under the blanket.
However, Quentin Blackwood was already awake, and his icy gaze was fixed on Julian Grant.
Julian Grant said, "I... I was just here to see how you were doing."
"Keep your voice down."
"I’ll be quiet, I promise. I’m just glad you’re okay. I thought you were seriously ill."
’So this was a ploy to win her sympathy. Not bad, Quentin Blackwood. He got the girl into his bed this quickly.’
"I’m fine," Quentin Blackwood said, though his stomach still hurt a lot—he hadn’t faked being hospitalized.
"Well then, I won’t disturb your private time. I’ll get going." Julian Grant put down the get-well gift he had brought and, taking the hint, slipped away deftly.
Ivy Sherwood had indeed been exhausted. She slept for a solid two hours. When she woke up and saw the firm chest in front of her, it took her a moment to realize where she was.
’I must have been really tired. How else could I have just fallen asleep like that?’
There was a knock on the door, and this time, the nurse on her rounds came in.
Ivy Sherwood quickly got up from the bed. The nurse, however, didn’t seem surprised to see her. "You must be his girlfriend. How is the patient now? Is he still feeling any discomfort?"
Ivy Sherwood wasn’t actually sure what other discomfort Quentin Blackwood might be feeling.
However, at that moment, Quentin Blackwood answered from behind her, "I’m not feeling any discomfort." His eyes were now open.
The nurse walked over, removed the IV needle from Quentin Blackwood’s hand, and then said, "You had blood drawn for tests earlier, right? The lab report should be ready. A family member can go pick it up."
At that moment, Ivy Sherwood didn’t know whether she should admit to being his "family member" or not.
It was obvious the young nurse had misunderstood. Before Ivy Sherwood could say anything, Quentin Blackwood said, "Okay, thank you."
For a moment, Ivy Sherwood didn’t know how to face Quentin Blackwood. She stood up abruptly. "I’ll go get the report then."
Ivy Sherwood left the room. After running all over the hospital with Nina Scott yesterday, she knew her way around and where to pick up the test results.
She also asked the doctor about Quentin Blackwood’s condition. The doctor said that for his stomach to be in such bad shape and for him to still be enduring it, he must be a tough guy.
The condition was not much better than having a gastric hemorrhage.
It was a chronic problem and difficult to treat. He needed to be careful to rest, ensure he ate three meals a day, and avoid smoking, drinking, and spicy or irritating foods. Otherwise, the stomach pain would easily return.
"So what can he eat?" Ivy Sherwood asked.
The doctor listed some recommended foods and other precautions, all of which Ivy Sherwood carefully wrote down.
’Making Quentin Blackwood rest is probably impossible. I’ll just have to have Zane Linton keep a closer eye on him and make sure he gets his three meals a day.’
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