Chapter 42: Chapter 42: President Blackwood, Your Body Is the Best Antidote
Zane Linton hurried to open the car door. Quentin Blackwood placed Ivy Sherwood on the back seat, letting her lean against him.
"President Blackwood, the Sherwood residence or the hospital?" Zane Linton was suddenly at a loss for where to drive.
Quentin Blackwood’s brow furrowed. With the huge scandal Ivy Sherwood had been facing online recently, the Sherwood Family hadn’t shown their faces at all. They’d even let Thea Sherwood slander Ivy in public. A family like that... ’She probably doesn’t want to go back there.’
As for the hospital, Quentin Blackwood worried that going there after an incident like this could be traumatic for her.
"Go to Norhaven."
Norhaven was a property Quentin Blackwood had purchased long ago. It was a vast estate located in the heart of Lustre.
When he was a child, that area had been his mother’s favorite. She loved the bustling city and used to say how wonderful it would be to live downtown someday.
A few years ago, once Quentin Blackwood had the means, he bought the entire plot of land for a high price, replacing what would have been skyscrapers with a beautiful courtyard-style residence.
It was just a pity his mother was long gone.
The house had been completed for quite some time, and it was exquisitely decorated.
It was just that when he had first arrived in Lustre, a few things at the estate weren’t ready, so Quentin Blackwood had been staying at a hotel.
Now that everything was in order, Quentin Blackwood had moved in just two days prior.
Zane Linton almost couldn’t process it. ’Is President Blackwood taking Miss Sherwood home for the night?’
After all, President Blackwood had never brought a woman home. Not even Miss Sheridan... had ever been allowed to stay the night at his residence.
"Is there a problem?" Quentin Blackwood asked when he saw Zane Linton hesitating.
"No, no at all." How could Zane Linton dare have a problem? The boss’s word was law.
He started the car and drove toward Norhaven.
Having inhaled too much of the aphrodisiac incense in the restroom, Ivy Sherwood felt a torturous discomfort, as if tiny insects were crawling all over her, gnawing away.
She squirmed, trying to get closer to the source of cold beside her.
"So uncomfortable..." Ivy Sherwood’s voice was soft, both coquettish and alluring.
She pressed herself against Quentin Blackwood, wishing she could just hang off him. His body was so cool, and she craved him like a large block of ice.
Under Ivy Sherwood’s restless hands, Quentin Blackwood’s breathing grew heavy.
"Endure it," Quentin Blackwood said, his voice hoarse.
He seemed to have underestimated Ivy Sherwood’s effect on him. This woman could always shatter the self-control he took so much pride in.
Furthermore, Quentin Blackwood hadn’t been sleeping well lately. He’d discovered that only when he was in the same bed with Ivy Sherwood, breathing in her scent, could he get a truly good night’s rest.
With one hand, Quentin Blackwood restrained Ivy Sherwood’s hands, keeping her from fidgeting, while with the other, he used his phone to contact a doctor and have him wait at Norhaven.
But Ivy was in too much agony. She had completely lost her senses and had no idea what she was doing.
Even when her mouth was closed, delicate moans escaped her throat. More importantly, her hands were still roaming.
Left with no choice, Quentin Blackwood had to knock her unconscious.
Ivy Sherwood went limp in Quentin Blackwood’s arms, his hand supporting her waist.
The entire ride was an ordeal for Quentin Blackwood.
They finally reached Norhaven. The moment the car came to a stop, Quentin Blackwood opened the door and carried her out.
The doctor was already waiting. Quentin Blackwood carried her inside and set her down on the sofa. Even though he’d knocked her out, Ivy Sherwood simply slumped against him, her face pressing into his chest.
"Her hand is injured, and she’s been drugged. Is there an antidote?"
The doctor examined Ivy Sherwood. "There’s no antidote for this particular drug. It won’t cause any permanent harm once it wears off. In fact, Mr. Blackwood... you are the best antidote."
Seeing the look on Quentin Blackwood’s face, the doctor quickly added, "President Blackwood, for this type of aphrodisiac, soaking in cold water can achieve a similar effect. The process is just a bit more agonizing. She’ll have to endure it on her own."
"Miss Sherwood’s palm wound isn’t deep. It would be best to wait for the drug to wear off before I treat it; otherwise, she might just reopen it after it’s bandaged."
Quentin Blackwood looked down at the woman who, despite being unconscious, was still stirring restlessly. He simply picked Ivy Sherwood up and headed for the stairs.
In the bathroom, Quentin Blackwood placed her in the tub. Despite her dark-toned skin, the deep flush on her cheeks was obvious.
He had noticed on previous occasions that only Ivy Sherwood’s face seemed dark; the rest of her body was quite fair.
Quentin Blackwood turned on the cool water. Realizing he had no clean clothes for her, he stepped out to give a couple of instructions.
Then he received a call from Seth Scott, who reported that everyone, including the fugitive Mr. Carter, had been rounded up.
He asked Quentin Blackwood what he wanted to do with them.
Quentin Blackwood told him to lock them up for now; he would deal with them later.
Seth Scott couldn’t resist asking about Ivy Sherwood’s condition. Quentin Blackwood’s voice seemed to grow a little colder. "Are you and Ivy Sherwood close?"
Seth Scott paused. "She’s a friend of my sister’s."
"She’s fine." With that, Quentin Blackwood hung up.
Staring at the disconnected call, Seth Scott pursed his lips as a flicker of some emotion crossed his eyes.
...
As the water washed over Ivy Sherwood, she began to shiver violently from the cold.
Her body trembled, the torment of being caught between ice and fire making her feel even worse.
"Cold... so cold..." Ivy Sherwood curled into a ball.
But waves of heat continued to assault her from within. One moment, Ivy felt like she was being roasted over a fire, unbearably hot; the next, she craved the cold, and her whole body began to sink.
By the time Quentin Blackwood returned, Ivy had slipped down into the tub, the water nearly covering her head. He lunged forward and quickly pulled her up.
"Ivy Sherwood!" Quentin Blackwood called out her name.
"Hot..." Ivy Sherwood murmured, pressing herself against him.
Ivy Sherwood’s movements soaked Quentin Blackwood’s clothes. He was only wearing a shirt, which became transparent as it got wet. Now, as she pressed against him, the fabric clung to his skin, revealing the faint outline of his well-defined abs. The sight was brimming with masculine charm.
If Ivy Sherwood were to open her eyes and see such a sight, her blood would surely race.
"Ivy Sherwood!" His breathing grew rougher, his voice more forceful as he called her name.
"Stop moving!" he rasped, his voice growing even hoarser.
Quentin Blackwood’s hands pressed down on Ivy Sherwood’s shoulders. The doctor had just said this was the only way.
’Or... me.’
Although he and Ivy Sherwood had been intimate several times before, Quentin Blackwood would never take advantage of her when she wasn’t in her right mind.
Ivy Sherwood’s long, seaweed-like hair was soaked, plastered messily against her cheeks. It tickled and felt very uncomfortable, and she raised a hand to brush it away.
Quentin Blackwood reached out and brushed the damp strands from her face, but as he did, he noticed her face looked... smudged.
He reached out to wipe the smudge away, only to find that rubbing it seemed to make it worse.
Then he noticed something dark on the pad of his own finger.
It was only then that Quentin Blackwood saw that the parts of his white shirt she had rubbed against were now stained with dark smudges.
Looking back at Ivy Sherwood’s face, he saw that the spot he had just wiped was a few shades lighter. Her face... seemed to be fading!
Comments