Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

"Is it that punk, Julian Grant? He’s always calling you Ivy. I knew he was up to no good."

Ivy Sherwood reached out and tapped Quentin Blackwood lightly on the forehead. "What kind of nonsense are you thinking? Mr. Grant is nothing like that!"

"And you’re still defending him."

"I’m just being objective."

"So, who else is there?" Quentin Blackwood returned to his original question.

"No one!" Ivy Sherwood answered decisively.

’A question like, "So, do you like me?"—she just couldn’t bring herself to ask it. Still, she could sense a change in Quentin Blackwood.’

’She remembered when she first met Quentin Blackwood, he had been impossibly cold and aloof. A single glance from him could have frozen you solid. She never imagined he had such a tender side.’

Ivy gave Quentin a gentle push. "I’m going to go pack."

"So you agree?" Quentin Blackwood grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving.

"Of course not. It was my fault for being foolish and provoking you, but I regret it now. If I could do it all over again, I would have stayed as far away from you as possible."

Ivy’s words made Quentin’s heart clench. His breathing grew heavy, the inky darkness in his eyes churning like a storm.

He seized Ivy’s waist, his voice impossibly hoarse. "Then this time, I’ll be the one provoking you."

With that, Quentin leaned down and crushed his lips against hers.

"Mmph..."

The man was too forceful. Ivy had no room to resist. As Quentin’s hand caressed her waist, she felt her entire body go weak, her legs threatening to give out.

Thankfully, his arm around her waist was the only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor.

Ivy’s body seemed to possess a deadly kind of Magic Power. His lips brushed against her earlobe, turning the already pink flesh a deep, crimson red. Then he moved to her neck, leaving a trail of faint, pink marks without any real pressure.

His rationality was being overwhelmed, his blood was boiling, and his lips continued their trail downward...

"KNOCK KNOCK." A rap on the main door shattered the moment. They were already close to the entrance, so the sound seemed deafeningly loud.

The intimate atmosphere was shattered. Quentin ignored it, but Ivy flinched like a startled deer.

"There’s... someone outside..." Her voice was as soft as a kitten’s meow.

The person outside kept knocking. "Quentin! Ivy! Are you two done packing yet? Hurry up and come out so we can all go to the beach!"

"..."

Given Quentin’s personality, he was already past the point of impatience and wanted to tell the person to scram.

But Julian Grant was relentless.

He glanced at Ivy. Her clothes were disheveled, her red lipstick was kissed away, and her eyes were glistening. She had the distinct look of someone who had just been thoroughly overwhelmed.

Quentin’s deep eyes smoldered with desire. His finger brushed the damp corner of her eye. "Go to the bathroom and fix yourself up."

Ivy scrambled out of Quentin’s embrace and quickly ducked into the bathroom.

Only then did Quentin open the door. Julian Grant, who was waiting outside, had already changed into a T-shirt and board shorts. He completely ignored Quentin’s murderous glare and complained, "What took you so long? Where’s Ivy?"

"What in the world are you wearing?" Quentin eyed his gaudy outfit.

Julian said, "It’s called dopamine dressing. It makes me a ’dopamine boy.’ You have no idea how many girls are into this right now. If I go out like this, I’ll have them swooning by the thousands."

Quentin: "..."

"Let’s go hang out at the beach before it gets dark. The sunset is going to be amazing."

"Not going," Quentin refused flatly.

"Why not? We’re already here."

Just then, Ivy emerged from the bathroom, having straightened her clothes and reapplied her makeup.

The moment Julian saw her, he completely ignored Quentin. As far as he was concerned, with Ivy around, Quentin’s opinion was irrelevant.

"Ivy, want to go to the beach?"

"Sure," Ivy agreed.

’If she didn’t go, who knew what might happen if she was left alone with Quentin?’

’The way Quentin had just been... it was like he was going to eat her alive.’

’It was better to go out and use Julian as a buffer.’

Julian deliberately goaded, "Quentin said he’s not going."

"Okay then, the three of us will go. You guys wait for me, I’m going to change."

Quentin: "..."

A storm was still brewing in his eyes, making them look darker than the deepest ink.

’That Julian Grant... he’s doing this on purpose, isn’t he?’

As Ivy went to change, taking her suitcase with her, Quentin turned to Julian. "Are you into Ivy?"

Julian: "???"

"What?"

’He thought he must have misheard. No way, is this guy actually jealous of me?’

"I wouldn’t dare try to steal your girl! That’s not what I meant! I don’t have a thing for her, absolutely no ulterior motives," Julian said, even raising three fingers as if taking an oath.

’That seemed to do the trick. He felt the oppressive aura radiating from Quentin finally subside a little.’

"Then why do you call her ’Ivy’?" Quentin didn’t like that nickname.

’He’d never even called her that himself.’

"Because I felt like it. It’s not like you can do anything about it if you don’t like it. As long as Ivy herself is okay with it, that’s all that matters," Julian said, clearly tempting fate.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at Quentin. "What? You want me to call you ’Quinnie,’ too?"

"Scram!"

...

The last time she’d been here, Ivy had been in no mood for a vacation. In fact, she hadn’t wanted to come at all, so she hadn’t packed many clothes.

This time, however, she was here to relax, so Ivy had packed a sundress and a little hat.

The pale yellow dress was long, reaching her ankles, and was dotted with a beautiful pattern of tiny flowers. The cinched waist accentuated her slender figure and made her legs look exceptionally long.

She wore a small, round straw hat, which made her look like a pixie. One glance and it was impossible to look away.

When Ivy walked over, her makeup hadn’t changed, but her new outfit was simply stunning.

"Ivy, your outfit and mine almost look like a matching set," Julian remarked, looking from her to his own clothes.

The man truly lived on the edge.

Ivy: "..."

’They don’t really look that similar, do they?’

The moment Julian’s words were out, Ivy felt the temperature in the room plummet.

"Are you blind?" Quentin asked, his tone ice-cold and his words chilling.

Julian flinched. He was pretty sure his eyes were fine, but he had the distinct feeling Quentin was about to gouge them out.

"I... don’t think so?"

Ivy knew what Quentin meant. "I’ll go change into something else," she said.

"Don’t! It looks great. You don’t need to change," Julian said.

Quentin’s icy gaze landed on him. "You go change. And you’re forbidden from ever wearing that outfit again."

"Why? You don’t think my outfit looks good?"

"It’s dirty."

Julian looked down at his clothes, even craning his neck to check his back. "Where is it dirty?"

Quentin walked over to a table that held several bottles of alcohol. He casually grabbed a bottle of liquor, opened it, and splashed its contents all over Julian. Then he said coolly, "Now it is."

Julian: "..."