Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

The commotion outside was so loud that despite the soundproofed door, the people inside could still hear it.

Ivy Sherwood stirred under the covers, a slender, pale arm extending from the blanket.

’It’s so noisy,’ she thought. ’It’s giving me a headache.’

Ivy moved again. The noise outside grew louder, forcing her eyes open.

’What’s happening so early in the morning?’

Before Ivy could even think, her brain suddenly short-circuited. She stared at the object in front of her. ’Why does that look so much like a man’s chiseled chest?’

Ivy blinked, her lashes, like tiny brushes, sweeping across Quentin Blackwood’s chest.

Her other hand shifted, and she realized her palm was resting against the defined ridges of a man’s abs.

Ivy sucked in a sharp breath and shot her head up, colliding squarely with a firm jawline.

Ivy cried out softly in pain. The impact woke the man. He lowered his gaze, his eyes landing on her face, and a large hand shot out, clamping down on the wrist of the hand that was touching his abs.

Woken by the collision, the man furrowed his brow slightly.

His thin lips parted, his voice raspy with sleep.

Three words slipped from his lips: ”Don’t touch me.”

That familiar voice, and the familiar face she saw as soon as she looked up.

Ivy’s pupils dilated. ’What is happening? How did I end up in bed with Quentin Blackwood again?’

Moreover, her entire body was pressed against his, as if they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

Her skin was against his. With a slight movement, she realized she wasn’t wearing anything!

’Did we... last night... Don’t tell me... again?’

Ivy had blacked out from drinking last night and couldn’t remember a thing. She only recalled drinking, not running into Quentin Blackwood.

She certainly didn’t remember when she’d come to the hotel.

”Uncle? How did we end up here?”

”Did you get this room?”

”And did you take my clothes off?”

Ivy bombarded him with three questions, not giving him a chance to react. The noise outside grew even louder, and a sudden, ominous feeling washed over her.

”Young Master Blackwood, did you receive the tip as well?”

”Young Master Blackwood, what are your thoughts on Miss Sherwood getting drunk and getting a hotel room with another man? Will you be calling off your engagement?”

Outside the door, the media swarmed and surrounded Silas Blackwood.

Now that one of the main players had arrived, the reporters wouldn’t miss this opportunity. If this was real, it was bound to be another huge story.

Silas Blackwood’s face was a terrible sight—a sickly pale shade tinged with fury.

He had received a tip this morning that Ivy Sherwood was in a hotel room with another man.

Silas had rushed over immediately. If Ivy had really slept with another man, he would make her pay.

Ivy had made him suffer so much. She’d caused him to be vilified by the entire internet, and he’d even been beaten this badly by his father because of her.

If Ivy was truly ”unclean,” he would completely destroy her reputation!

”Do you have a room key?” Silas asked.

”Yes, yes!” The reporters quickly handed over the key card. None of them had dared to open the door before, but things were different now that Silas Blackwood was here.

Having him be the one to open the door was the perfect scenario.

BEEP! The sound of the door being unlocked.

Quentin Blackwood hadn’t had time to answer Ivy’s questions. The moment the door beeped open, he yanked up the blanket.

The large comforter covered Ivy’s head, hiding her completely.

In that same second, Silas Blackwood was practically pushed into the room by the media throng, their cameras all aimed at the bed.

Just then, Quentin Blackwood sat up in bed. His chest was bare, his incredible physique on full display for everyone to see.

They could only see Quentin; the woman under the blanket remained hidden.

Silas Blackwood froze, utterly speechless.

The reporters, however, went wild. This was a truly earth-shattering scoop.

”There really is a man! Did Miss Sherwood really sleep with someone here last night?”

”Is he a male escort she hired? He’s so handsome.”

Quentin Blackwood almost never appeared before the media, and there were no photos of him online, so none of these people recognized him.

”Young Master Blackwood, what’s your take on this? Will you forgive Miss Sherwood?”

Suddenly, some of the cameras swiveled and zoomed in on Silas Blackwood’s face.

The shock and terror on his face were captured perfectly.

Silas stood motionless. The reporters assumed he was stunned by the scene before him. After all, any man would be shocked and furious to find his fiancée cheating before the wedding.

But Silas’s expression seemed a little off. More than anything, it looked like terror.

”Young Master Blackwood, can you give us a comment?”

Silas’s lips trembled. Looking at the man on the bed, he let out a frightened cry: ”Uncle.”

Quentin Blackwood ran a hand over his forehead, then threaded his fingers through his hair, his eyes filled with an icy chill.

The media swooned at the impossibly cool gesture. The escort Miss Sherwood had found seemed even more handsome than Young Master Blackwood by a long shot.

Especially that face—it was flawless. And that body was practically a model’s.

But wait, what did Young Master Blackwood just call him?

’Uncle?’

As the realization slowly dawned on them, the reporters turned their heads, the excited grins they wore from digging up this gossip now frozen on their faces.

Could this be... the one and only, the legendary... President Blackwood?

The dominant force in the business world, the President of DG Group, Quentin Blackwood?

The very same Quentin Blackwood who was also Silas Blackwood’s third uncle?

This was too sensational! The uncle sleeping with his nephew’s fiancée... If this got out, the story would absolutely rock the world.

The scoop of Ivy Sherwood cheating before her wedding was enough to keep them on the front page for days. But the added scandal of her sleeping with the uncle? That would create a whole new wave of sensationalism.

More importantly, this was President Blackwood—a man famously uninterested in women.

Just thinking about it was enough to make them lose their minds.

But... they had photos of Quentin Blackwood. Could a story like this even be published?

The reporters exchanged glances. Everyone knew who Quentin Blackwood was: The Grim Reaper, a man famous for his ruthless cruelty. Anyone who crossed him was known to meet a terrible end.

Forget publishing the story; they weren’t even sure they would make it out of this room alive today.

The room fell deathly silent. Everyone stared at Quentin Blackwood, and when their eyes met his dark, heavy gaze, their hearts all skipped a beat.

His raven-dark lashes lowered for a moment. When he looked up again, his gaze was sinister and violent. He looked like a savage beast about to be unleashed, ready to rip out the throats of his prey and enemies alike, the unseen pressure alone enough to make a person’s heart feel like it was being crushed.

”Drop the cameras. You, get out!” The man’s voice was laced with fury.

The reporters scrambled to drop their cameras, as if a moment’s delay would mean their demise right then and there.

However, Silas Blackwood’s next words made them halt in their tracks. They all stopped, eager to see the next scene of this unprecedentedly spectacular drama.

”Uncle, the person in your bed... is it Ivy Sherwood?” Silas’s fists were clenched as he struggled to control his emotions.