Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Mr. Carter was thoroughly intimidated by this presence. ”Y-You... Who are you?”

”You’d better think carefully. This is President Blackwood,” Seth Scott introduced from the side.

Mr. Carter knew that Seth Scott was a proud man to his core. Not just anyone earned the title ”President” from him. He had never given any regard to the other members of the Blackwood family, be it Silas Blackwood or Caleb Blackwood.

The only one he would address with such respect was likely the one who had recently been causing such a stir, the one who had returned from Aethelgard.

”You’re President Blackwood!” Mr. Carter’s legs nearly gave out; he wished he could just kneel on the spot.

Quentin Blackwood’s reputation preceded him. Who didn’t know his name?

People of their status didn’t even have the right to speak a single word to Quentin Blackwood.

Quentin Blackwood’s brow furrowed. Mr. Carter, reading his expression, recalled Quentin’s earlier threat and his face turned ashen.

If Quentin Blackwood wished it, never mind silencing him for life—making sure he never saw another sunrise would be child’s play.

He couldn’t afford to offend the Scott Family, let alone Quentin Blackwood.

He pointed toward the restroom. ”In... In there...”

The restroom door was kicked open. Inside, an annoyed President Walker turned his head. ”Who is it?!”

’Didn’t I tell that Carter guy to stand guard and keep everyone out? How dare someone barge in and ruin my fun!’

The moment he saw Quentin Blackwood’s face, Gabriel Walker’s own face filled with terror.

”B-Bl...”

Meanwhile, Quentin Blackwood saw only a jarring scene. His gaze darkened, his sinister eyes filled with ice.

Ivy Sherwood’s clothes were torn, revealing large patches of her skin.

Her fair legs were being pinned down by the men, who seemed to be trying to force them apart.

There was blood on the floor. The men were slapping Ivy Sherwood’s face. ”Bitch! Fucking whore!”

”You dare stab me? You’re fucking tired of living!”

They were trying to snatch the knife from Ivy Sherwood’s hand, but she held on tightly, refusing to let go. Blood flowed from her palm—a shocking sight.

Quentin Blackwood strode forward and kicked the man in front of him aside.

”Who the fuck—AH!” Before the man could finish, a fist slammed directly into his face.

Quentin Blackwood’s strength was immense. The man instantly clutched his mouth, feeling something loosen and then seem to fall out.

Blood poured out as he cupped his own teeth in his hands, screaming loudly.

President Walker, seeing this from behind, turned deathly pale. He knew he was probably done for, so he quickly and quietly fled the restroom.

Quentin Blackwood dealt with the men, not holding back at all. He was beating them to within an inch of their lives.

Seth Scott walked over to Ivy Sherwood, wanting to help her up, but she resisted fiercely.

She kept swinging the knife, stabbing at anyone who came near.

”Ivy, it’s me, Seth Scott. You’re safe now. Can you put the knife down first?”

However, Seth Scott’s words had no effect. Ivy Sherwood’s face was flushed red, and her gaze was dazed and distant. It was as if she couldn’t hear a thing.

It was an instinct for self-preservation, rejecting anyone’s touch.

Seth Scott was at a loss. There was blood everywhere—on Ivy’s hands, too. Her eyelashes trembled, her expression one of someone ready to face death.

”Get away!” Ivy Sherwood’s voice was quiet, yet full of power.

Seth Scott wanted to snatch the knife from her, but he couldn’t find an opening. This was how Ivy had been protecting herself just moments ago, fighting for her life.

”Ivy, I’m not a bad guy. I’m Nina’s brother. Aren’t you and Nina best friends?” Seth Scott tried to use Nina to bring Ivy back to her senses.

But Ivy still showed no sign of letting go.

”You go deal with these guys. Leave this to me,” Quentin Blackwood’s voice was cold, yet carried an irresistible command.

”Ivy doesn’t recognize anyone right now. I’m afraid you won’t be able to handle her either,” Seth Scott said with a grave expression.

Quentin Blackwood frowned, his eyes on the knife gripped tightly in Ivy Sherwood’s hand. She was holding it by the blade, which had cut her palm.

He reached out, trying to pull the knife from Ivy Sherwood’s hand, but found her grip was too tight.

He parted his lips. ”Ivy Sherwood, let go.”

Hearing this voice, Ivy Sherwood’s fingers twitched.

She struggled to lift her head, as if trying to see clearly who was in front of her.

But her eyelids were growing heavy; she couldn’t even open her eyes.

Her eyelashes fluttered. He took her hand in his, his low voice seeming to soothe her.

”Give me the knife.” Quentin Blackwood placed his hand over Ivy’s, his large palm enveloping hers.

’That voice is so familiar,’ she thought. ’Even though I’ve only heard it a few times, it feels like it’s engraved in my very bones.’

And that scent of cedarwood, so different from the others. That clean fragrance cut through the chaotic mix of smells and found its way to the softest part of her heart.

Instinctively, Ivy Sherwood relaxed, her body slumping against the wall.

She kept her eyes open, seemingly trying hard to recognize the person before her.

Her red lips parted. ”Quen... Quentin Blackwood...”

”It’s me. Let go first. Give me the knife.”

Ivy Sherwood’s fingers finally relaxed, and the knife fell into Quentin Blackwood’s hand.

Nearby, Seth Scott’s jaw dropped, clearly stunned by the scene before him.

He had just invoked Nina’s name, and Ivy hadn’t let go. But with just two sentences from Quentin Blackwood, she had handed the knife over.

He knew about Ivy and Quentin’s relationship—she was his nephew’s wife and he was the uncle—but they shouldn’t be this familiar with each other, should they?

Quentin Blackwood put the knife away and checked the wound on Ivy’s palm. The cut seemed quite deep; it needed to be treated as soon as possible.

Quentin Blackwood took off his jacket, draped it over Ivy Sherwood, and then lifted her into his arms.

His cold gaze swept over the men on the floor. One of them quickly explained, ”We didn’t do anything to her! In fact, this broad cut us a few times.”

”It was Gabriel Walker who told us to do this! He said if we had our way with her and filmed it, he’d give us five hundred thousand.”

The men Gabriel Walker had hired were now spilling everything, terrified of being implicated.

”Mr. Scott, I’m taking her to get her wound treated. I’ll have to trouble you to watch these men. I’ll arrange for someone to come and deal with this.”

Seth Scott opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Quentin Blackwood had already carried her out.

At the entrance, Mr. Carter saw Quentin Blackwood emerge carrying Ivy Sherwood. Blood from her hand dripped onto the floor, drop by drop, blooming like little flowers.

His face was ashen. With a THUMP, he fell to his knees on the ground.

Quentin Blackwood’s car was right outside. Zane Linton, acting as the driver, had been waiting for a while. When he saw Quentin emerge carrying someone, a flash of surprise crossed his eyes.

In all his years with Quentin Blackwood, he had never seen him get involved in other people’s business.

He hurried forward, wanting to lighten his boss’s load. ”President Blackwood, let me take her.”

Quentin Blackwood didn’t hand her over to Zane Linton. ”Open the door.”

Only then did Zane Linton see that the person President Blackwood was holding was actually Miss Sherwood!