Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 75: Chapter 75: The Driver Turned Out to Be Quentin Blackwood

Ivy Sherwood took the phone, thinking Nina Scott had called the driver.

"Mmm... Sir, are you on your way?"

Quentin Blackwood: "?"

He glanced at the caller ID. It was definitely Ivy Sherwood’s number.

’Her voice is so soft. Did she drink too much?’

"Where?"

"The bar at the east gate of Lustre University. I’ll be waiting for you."

’Why is Ivy Sherwood at Lustre University? And why is she calling me?’

The phone slipped from her ear to her cheek. Ivy Sherwood assumed the driver would hang up.

She hadn’t noticed that the displayed contact wasn’t for the driver, but was "Death Exemption Token."

Both were three-word contacts, so Nina Scott had just seen the three-word name and dialed.

"Hello? Ivy Sherwood?" Quentin Blackwood gripped his phone. He said her name again, but there was no answer from the other side, only the sound of her breathing.

He could have just ignored it, hung up, and gone back to his work.

But as Quentin Blackwood stared at the documents in front of him, he found he couldn’t absorb a single word.

He could hear loud noises from the other end of the line. Ivy Sherwood was drunk there, and no one knew what might happen.

If she were in some kind of danger, then this would count as a call for help, and he would have had the chance to save her.

’But what if this is just one of Ivy Sherwood’s tricks, playing hard to get? Getting drunk and calling him on purpose?’

Quentin Blackwood’s brow furrowed. ’That woman, she must be doing this on purpose!’

...

In the bar, Nina Scott leaned against Ivy Sherwood. "Ivy, it’s been ages. Why isn’t your driver here yet?"

’My mind is fuzzy with alcohol, and waves of nausea are rolling in my stomach. I knew I shouldn’t have drunk so much.’

"I... I don’t know. Let’s just wait a little longer."

"Nina, I’m going to the restroom." With that, Ivy Sherwood stood up and headed toward the restrooms.

After using the toilet, Ivy Sherwood washed her hands and came out, only for a man to deliberately bump into her.

"Watch where you’re going!" the man snapped, beating her to the punch. He was a low-life punk with dyed-blond hair.

Ivy Sherwood squinted at him. "Sorry."

The moment the man saw Ivy Sherwood’s face, he froze. She was too beautiful—a breathtaking, heart-stopping kind of beauty. He was completely stunned.

After apologizing, Ivy Sherwood tried to leave, but the man grabbed her arm.

"You think you can just bump into someone and walk away?"

He and his buddies had noticed Ivy Sherwood a while ago. He had bumped into her on purpose.

Even though the woman was wearing a hat, just the sight of her from behind had been unbearably tempting. Seeing Ivy Sherwood go to the restroom, he had waited outside for her. The moment she looked up just now, he felt like he’d fallen in love.

This woman was just too beautiful. She had a sweet, elegant air about her that was completely out of place in this bar.

"What do you want?"

"I don’t want much. What department are you in, little sis? Which class? My boys are over there. How about you come have a drink with us?"

Ivy Sherwood couldn’t make out what he was saying. It was all just a loud, annoying noise.

She pushed him away and tried to leave, but he blocked her path again. "How about you leave me your number, sis? Got any plans for tonight? Your big bro here knows a fun place. Why don’t we go check it out together?"

Ivy Sherwood had no intention of engaging with him, but the man wouldn’t let it go. "Stop pretending, you fucking bitch! Even if it’s not me, you’re just gonna get fucked by someone else, right?"

"A girl like you... you’ve already been with someone, haven’t you?"

His words were disgusting, and he looked like he was about to get physical.

He grabbed Ivy Sherwood’s wrist and started caressing it, then tried to snake his arm around her waist.

Ivy Sherwood saw a red wine bottle nearby and, without a second thought, grabbed it and smashed it over his head.

Blondie was completely stunned. A couple of seconds passed before he reacted, clutching his head as a mixture of red wine and blood dripped down.

"You fucking dare to hit me?" Blondie roared.

Not far away, his buddies saw what happened and immediately came over, quickly surrounding Ivy Sherwood.

"It’s this fucking bitch! Boys, we’re gonna fuck her up today!" Blondie yelled, still clutching his head.

The others now got a good look at Ivy Sherwood’s face and grew excited. "Damn, I didn’t see before. This chick is gorgeous."

"I could die happy if I got a piece of that."

"Who the fuck let her come out drinking and try to seduce us? She’s asking for it! Let’s go, take her with us!"

The men tried to grab Ivy Sherwood, but she was still holding the broken neck of the bottle, its sharp glass edge pointed right at them. "Who dares come closer! You think you can just bully a girl?!"

Ivy Sherwood began to jab wildly with the broken bottle. These punks weren’t completely reckless; they didn’t want a murder on their hands.

"Shit, what fucking bad luck!" Blondie cursed.

The next second, a powerful force sent Blondie flying, knocking him to the ground.

Before he could see who it was, the hand he had used to touch Ivy Sherwood was pinned to the floor by a leather shoe, right on top of shattered glass.

"AHH!" Blondie let out a pig-like squeal.

He forced his eyes open and saw a man standing against the light.

The bar’s lighting was already dim, making the face of the man in the sharp suit seem unreal.

His face was pale and cold, radiating a chilling, murderous aura. His eyes were like ice, and his powerful presence was completely out of place here.

Beyond the coldness, he carried a hostile, irritated energy, as if someone had just prodded his deepest nerve.

He pulled Ivy Sherwood behind him, shielding her from Blondie’s disgusting gaze.

"Get lost." The man’s thin lips barely moved, the single word seeming to be forced through clenched teeth, heavy with suppressed rage.

Seeing that this man was not someone to be trifled with, the other punks abandoned Blondie and ran off one by one.

"You guys!" Seeing his buddies bail on him, Blondie cursed them as traitors in his mind.

Quentin Blackwood lifted his foot. Blondie scrambled up from the floor and scurried away.

"Are you okay?" Only then did Quentin Blackwood turn to look at Ivy Sherwood behind him.

The call with Ivy Sherwood had never disconnected. He had acted on impulse; by the time he thought that maybe he shouldn’t be coming, he was already at the bar’s entrance.

He told himself he was just worried something might happen to his niece-in-law, making things difficult for him. He was only here to take her back home.

However, before he even walked in, he heard the conversation through the still-open phone line.

Getting out of the car, entering the bar, finding Ivy Sherwood, seeing her surrounded by several men, and kicking them away—it all happened in a sequence of actions Quentin Blackwood performed without a single conscious thought.

Ivy Sherwood still clutched the broken bottle. She didn’t recognize the man and assumed he was one of them.

She aimed it at Quentin Blackwood, trying hard to open her eyes and identify him, her guard still up.

"You get lost too, or I’ll really kill someone! I just got out of prison. I’ve got more than one life on my hands," Ivy Sherwood threatened, trying to sound tough.

Quentin Blackwood looked at the woman in the school uniform in front of him. She could barely stand straight, yet she was trying to threaten him. Her serious expression was so comical, so unexpectedly cute. A soft chuckle escaped him.