Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 90: Chapter 90: His Fiancee

Ivy Sherwood readily opened the passenger side door. It really showed the difference between people.

Compared to Silas Blackwood, Quentin Blackwood’s grace and composure were on a completely different level.

She glanced to the side at Quentin Blackwood’s profile. The dim light inside the car made his features seem even more sharply defined.

Quentin Blackwood turned his head, his eyes meeting hers. Flustered, Ivy Sherwood quickly averted her gaze, but her heart began to beat faster involuntarily.

"The directions," he said. His voice was just as pleasant to the ear.

"Right away!" Ivy Sherwood picked up her phone and pulled up the directions. The car started, but she didn’t dare look at Quentin Blackwood’s face again.

The small cabin felt confining, and the silence was rather awkward. Ivy Sherwood rubbed her face with her hands, then decided to break the impasse.

"Quentin Blackwood, you’re not planning to return to Aethelgard anytime soon, are you?" Ivy Sherwood began to test the waters, dropping the formal title of "Uncle."

He was Silas Blackwood’s uncle, after all. And since she was no longer involved with Silas, there was no reason for her to address him that way.

"I still have things to do here."

The Lustre branch of the DG Group was running smoothly. In two days, a mountain resort owned by the company was scheduled to open, and Quentin Blackwood planned to be there.

"Oh." Ivy Sherwood didn’t say anything else.

There wasn’t much traffic at night, so the drive was smooth. They quickly arrived at the destination Ivy had set in the GPS.

It was near Ivy Sherwood’s home, in the middle of a night market. Despite the late hour, it was still bustling with people.

"You don’t mind this kind of place, do you? I know it’s noisy, but it’s so full of life. The people here aren’t cold and distant; they’re all incredibly kind."

"The stir-fries here are delicious. And even though the restaurant is small, it’s very clean, so don’t worry!"

Ivy Sherwood added this as a precaution, worried that Quentin Blackwood might not be used to such places.

A man of his stature probably never set foot in places like this.

They frequented exclusive clubs and dined at five-star restaurants.

"Mm." Quentin Blackwood felt no disdain for the place; on the contrary, he felt a sense of familiarity.

When he was a child, he and his mother had lived in a small alley just like this.

The people around them might not have been particularly wealthy, but they were all very kind.

They had been very poor. His mother was a waitress who had been forced by the nearly fifty-year-old Old Master Blackwood, which resulted in his birth.

With him in the picture, his mother’s life became even harder. Later, when he fell gravely ill and she couldn’t afford the treatment, she had no choice but to take him to find his so-called father.

After a paternity test confirmed he was a Blackwood, the family reluctantly took him in.

He never considered his early childhood a hardship. Life with the Blackwoods was lavish, but for Quentin Blackwood, it wasn’t the home he wanted.

Later, he set off for the vast city of Aethelgard on his own and started his own business. He had known for a long time that he could never return to the world of his childhood.

Ivy Sherwood wiped down the table and stools before letting Quentin Blackwood sit.

"Do you have any dietary restrictions?" Ivy Sherwood hadn’t eaten with Quentin Blackwood often. Even when they had, the chefs would certainly have been briefed on his preferences beforehand.

"No."

"Alright then, let me order for us." Ivy Sherwood rattled off a few dishes, and Quentin Blackwood nodded at each suggestion, offering no objections.

The food arrived quickly—a few simple, home-style stir-fries. "Try some," she said. "It’s really good, very homey."

Quentin Blackwood picked up his chopsticks and took a bite. The fragrant, tender flavor exploded on his tongue—a taste that could instantly whet one’s appetite.

It tasted almost the same as the couple of dishes his mother used to treat him to at the restaurant next door for his birthday.

"See? I wasn’t lying. The food here is delicious. Try this one!"

As Ivy Sherwood ate with Quentin Blackwood, the more she got to know him, the more she discovered he really wasn’t like other wealthy men.

Take this place, for example. Silas Blackwood would never have set foot in it. He would have been utterly disgusted, thinking everything was dirty, even the people.

But Quentin Blackwood showed not a hint of disgust, something that was evident in his every action.

As they were eating, Quentin Blackwood’s phone, which was sitting on the table beside him, began to ring.

Quentin Blackwood glanced at the caller ID, and Ivy Sherwood’s eyes followed his.

Joy Sheridan.

It was clearly a woman’s name.

Ivy Sherwood suddenly remembered what Nina Scott had mentioned: Quentin Blackwood’s fiancée, who was back in Aethelgard.

Quentin Blackwood didn’t answer the call. He simply declined it.

Curious, Ivy Sherwood asked, "Aren’t you going to get that? Is it a bad time because I’m here?"

"No."

The caller persistently tried again. Ivy said, "You should get that. I won’t eavesdrop."

With that, she stood up. "I’ll go see if the owner has any chili sauce."

Quentin Blackwood watched the phone vibrate, then finally answered. "Hello."

"You finally answered my call!" a woman’s excited voice exclaimed from the other end.

"What is it?" Quentin Blackwood’s reply was curt.

Just hearing Quentin Blackwood’s voice made Joy Sheridan realize how terribly she missed him. It had been so long since she’d last seen him.

"Do I need a reason to call you? Can’t I call just because I miss you? When are you coming back? Don’t you miss me at all? You don’t even answer when I call."

Hearing Joy Sheridan’s voice, Quentin Blackwood’s brow furrowed. "Joy, I’ve told you before, you and I..."

"Alright, alright," Joy Sheridan interrupted, cutting him off. She knew what he was about to say, but she just... she was just in love with him.

Quentin Blackwood had rejected her many times, but Joy Sheridan refused to give up.

As long as there was no other woman in Quentin Blackwood’s life, she believed she had a chance. Besides, in her own mind, she was already Mrs. Blackwood.

Joy Sheridan heard the noise in the background on Quentin’s end. "Where are you? It’s so loud."

"Eating. If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up."

"Wait, Quentin, I—hello?"

Quentin Blackwood had already hung up. Furious, Joy Sheridan smashed her phone.

’He hung up before I could even finish!’ she fumed. She had been about to tell him she was planning a trip to Lustre in a few days.

’Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, then I’ll just have to go secretly and give him a surprise!’

When Ivy Sherwood returned with the chili sauce, Quentin Blackwood was already off the phone.

She didn’t ask who had called. Their relationship wasn’t at a point where she felt she had the right to ask.

’Still, I should probably keep my distance from now on,’ she thought. ’After all, he has a fiancée.’

"Want some chili sauce?" Ivy Sherwood placed the small dish on the table.

"I’m fine."

"Okay." Ivy Sherwood lowered her head and focused on the food in her bowl. After that, she didn’t say much.

Quentin Blackwood wasn’t a talkative person either, so the two of them finished the rest of their meal in silence.

As they walked out of the little restaurant together, Ivy Sherwood said, "I live close by, so I can just walk home. Do you want to call your driver, or should I find a designated driver service for you?"

"No need."

"Alright, drive safe then."

"Mm."

"Well, I’m heading off. Goodbye." Ivy Sherwood waved at Quentin Blackwood and started walking toward her home.

"Ivy Sherwood," Quentin Blackwood’s voice called out from behind her.

His voice wasn’t loud, but she was exceptionally sensitive to the sound of it.

"Yes?" She stopped and turned to look back at the man standing a short distance away.