Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

"So, this is your wedding gift to the happy couple?"

Quentin Blackwood only asked after Ivy Sherwood hung up the phone.

"Yes, a family reunion. Don’t you think it’s nice, Uncle?"

Ivy Sherwood tilted her head, calling him "Uncle" on purpose.

Quentin Blackwood’s eyes darkened as his hand wrapped around her waist. "You think calling me ’Uncle’ now will stop me from teasing you?"

Just a moment ago, when Quentin Blackwood had asked Ivy Sherwood to call him "Uncle," she had bitten her lip and refused, no matter what.

’Now she’s turning around and tempting me with it. She’s getting bold.’

She was the one who said it on purpose, yet she turned it back on him. "Isn’t this what you wanted me to call you? Are you not satisfied, Uncle?"

After speaking, Ivy Sherwood wrapped herself in the blanket, scrambled up from the bed, and tried to escape into the bathroom.

But she miscalculated. He simply grabbed a corner of the blanket and yanked her right back.

Ivy Sherwood had intended to flee, but she never expected to be caught so quickly.

"I was wrong." She admitted her mistake with surprising speed, looking at him pitifully. "We can’t do this again."

Her pitiful and delicate appearance only made one want to tease her more.

Because the blanket was wrapped around Ivy Sherwood, Quentin Blackwood was now completely bare. As a result, Ivy could see his changes and reactions quite clearly.

Ivy Sherwood: "!!!"

She quickly shared half the blanket with Quentin Blackwood. ’I really can’t take any more.’ She hastily changed the subject. "I’m hungry."

"I didn’t eat lunch, so I missed out on the big feast," Ivy Sherwood said.

They were supposed to have been at the wedding banquet at noon, but then Quentin Blackwood arrived, and the two of them had slipped away to come home.

Quentin Blackwood took a deep breath. "I’ll owe you. We’ll make it up next time."

’How is this something he owes me?!’

Quentin Blackwood had already arranged for dinner. Ivy Sherwood went into the walk-in closet while Quentin went into the bathroom.

Quentin Blackwood had arranged for clothes to be prepared. It was only when Ivy Sherwood entered the walk-in closet that she discovered a wardrobe full of women’s clothing, all in her size.

It wasn’t just coats, tops, pants, and skirts; there was even lingerie.

Hanging there in the wardrobe, right next to Quentin Blackwood’s own clothes, they looked just like the clothes of the mistress of the house.

’None of this was here before. I wonder when Quentin Blackwood prepared it all.’

Ivy Sherwood quickly changed and went downstairs with Quentin Blackwood.

The staff at Norhaven had prepared a lavish dinner, rivaling the wedding banquet hosted by the Blackwood Family that day.

"So lavish?" Ivy Sherwood looked at the spread, her appetite immediately whetted.

"Didn’t you say you missed the feast at noon? This is to make it up to you."

Ivy Sherwood sat down without ceremony. "Looks like sticking with you means I’ll get to eat and drink well, Uncle!"

Ivy Sherwood was truly hungry. Besides, she felt she had no image to maintain in front of Quentin Blackwood anyway, so there was no need to act demure. She just ate normally.

Quentin Blackwood hadn’t eaten all day. After all, he had been busy until dawn and then rushed back, not even having time for a meal.

Although there was food on the plane, it was mediocre, so he hadn’t touched it.

Watching Quentin Blackwood eat, she saw he was still so elegant. Even when dining, he was unhurried and composed, his every movement exuding a noble air.

"Uncle, why are you so prim and proper even when you eat?" Ivy Sherwood felt like a beggar in comparison.

"Force of habit."

Ivy Sherwood placed a large crab on his plate. "Then eat this!"

She refused to believe Quentin Blackwood could maintain his elegance while eating a crab.

There were crab crackers and tools nearby. If needed, the staff would help, but Quentin Blackwood preferred no one to be around while he ate, so he had to do it himself.

Ivy Sherwood watched him crack the crab. His movements were slow and deliberate, yet he managed to extract every piece of meat perfectly intact.

’It seems some things are just innate, ingrained in one’s very bones.’

Quentin Blackwood quickly finished shelling the crab, placed the meat on a small plate, and pushed it in front of Ivy Sherwood.

"I wanted you to eat it, not shell it for me."

Ivy Sherwood said, pushing it back. "I have my own two hands. If I want to eat it, I’ll do it myself."

Quentin Blackwood said, "I want to shell it for you."

Since he put it that way, Ivy Sherwood happily accepted it. "Mr. Blackwood, you’re so fast at this. How many women have you shelled crabs for?"

"What do you think?"

"Don’t tell me I’m the only one?"

The man let out a low chuckle. "You already know the answer."

"Have you known Miss Sheridan for many years?"

"Yes." ’More or less.’

When he first went to Aethelgard, he met Elder Sheridan and got to know Joy Sheridan around that time.

"In all those years, she never asked you to shell crabs for her?"

Quentin Blackwood said, "The Sheridan Family doesn’t lack for servants."

There was a line of people ready to do such things for her.

"The Blackwood Family doesn’t lack for servants either, yet here you are, Mr. Blackwood, shelling them for me."

Quentin Blackwood picked up a shrimp, shelled it for Ivy Sherwood, and placed it in her bowl. "You’re different."

A sweet feeling filled Ivy Sherwood’s heart. ’Quentin Blackwood is just too smooth!’

’Is this something Quentin Blackwood would actually say?’

’He always seemed so cold before. Who knew this man could change once their relationship changed? Don’t tell me Julian Grant taught him this.’

Although she told herself to be rational and not be swayed by him, his words still made her feel like she was walking on clouds.

The two of them ate their meal at a leisurely pace. After they finished, Ivy Sherwood checked the time. "At this hour, I should probably be heading back."

"I’m going back to Aethelgard tomorrow," Quentin Blackwood said.

Ivy Sherwood nodded. "I know."

’Didn’t Quentin Blackwood say that earlier today?’

"So, stay tonight."

...

Not knowing how long it would be after Quentin Blackwood returned to Aethelgard before he would come back to Lustre again, Ivy Sherwood chose to stay.

The price for staying was being "teased" by Quentin Blackwood late into the night.

She had taken a nap in the afternoon, so even late at night, Ivy Sherwood wasn’t sleepy.

Just then, Quentin Blackwood’s phone rang. After glancing at the number, Quentin Blackwood’s eyes turned dark and heavy.

He picked up his phone. "I’m going to step out and take this call."

"Okay."

Ivy Sherwood didn’t overthink why Quentin Blackwood was taking the call away from her.

She believed everyone had their own private matters, and being with Quentin Blackwood didn’t mean he had to tell her everything.

Quentin Blackwood went out onto the balcony. The night was deep, the sky was still, and darkness stretched out before him.

"Speak." Quentin Blackwood answered the call, his voice incomparably cold.

The number wasn’t just anyone’s; it belonged to the person investigating his mother’s case.

He had always felt his mother’s death was no accident. It had been too sudden. She had left the house in good spirits and simply never returned.

His mother’s body was discovered in the sea. After being submerged, there was no evidence left on the body, making it seem like a suicide.

But Quentin Blackwood believed it was definitely not a suicide. There had to be something he didn’t know.

He was too young back then, completely powerless. Even if he told everyone his mother would never commit suicide—that she had smiled as she left, telling him to wait at home for her return and to avoid Silas Blackwood if he saw him, not to start any conflict—it would have made no difference.

His mother’s death was ruled a suicide, and at the time, there was nothing Quentin Blackwood could do.

By the time he gained power, too much time had passed. Even if there had been any evidence, it had long since been washed away, making the investigation that much harder.

The last lead he had found was that his mother had met with Yvonne Summers just before her death.

It seemed she and Yvonne Summers had never been on good terms, though Quentin Blackwood wasn’t clear on the specifics of their conflict.

’Calling me this late at night... Could they have found something new?’