Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

When Ivy Sherwood woke up again, she found the other side of the bed was empty.

’The sight of Quentin Blackwood when I opened my eyes this morning must have been a dream. Yeah, maybe it really was a dream.’

’Who knows where Quentin Blackwood is now? How could he possibly be at my place?’

Ivy Sherwood got out of bed, washed up in the bathroom, and came out after getting dressed.

She had work today, including two meetings, so she had to go to the office.

The moment Ivy Sherwood opened her door, the aroma of a home-cooked meal wafted in. She froze. ’Is Nina cooking for me?’

As Ivy Sherwood walked toward the kitchen, she called out, "Nina, is that you?"

It was only when she saw Quentin Blackwood that Ivy Sherwood realized seeing him this morning hadn’t been a hallucination after all.

’Quentin Blackwood is really in my house!’

"You’re awake. I just finished making breakfast. Go wash your hands."

Quentin Blackwood was wearing an apron, a plate and spatula still in hand. ’President Blackwood, cooking in person... it felt like a dream no matter how she looked at it.’

"Why haven’t you left? How did you get in?"

"I came in through the door." Quentin Blackwood placed the food on the table.

"Get out right now! This is breaking and entering. I can call the police on you!"

Quentin Blackwood seemed to pay her no mind, even guiding her to the dining table. "Eat first."

"Did you even hear what I just said? I’m not kidding, I will really call the police!"

Quentin Blackwood said, "Eat first, then you can yell at me. I’m willing to listen."

Ivy Sherwood: "..."

’Quentin Blackwood must be crazy. Who comes over just to get yelled at?’

"I’m not eating. Get out of here right now."

Quentin Blackwood said, "I’ll leave after you eat."

"I’m not hungry. Quentin Blackwood, are you incapable of understanding me? This will only make me hate you more!"

"Fine, I’ll leave now. But it would be such a waste to throw all this out. Can’t you just eat a little? Just a tiny bit."

"I’m not eating. Your cooking is awful."

Quentin Blackwood really hadn’t cooked much before. He knew the basics, but his skills were probably not very good.

"Then I’ll order you some takeout. I’ll cook for you again after I’ve practiced." Quentin Blackwood untied his apron.

It was only then that Ivy Sherwood noticed two red marks on the back of Quentin Blackwood’s hand, likely from being splattered by hot oil.

He took a few long looks at Ivy Sherwood before finally leaving.

Quentin Blackwood was gone. Ivy Sherwood sat by the table, looking at the breakfast spread. She didn’t know how long Quentin Blackwood had spent cooking, but he had definitely put his heart into it.

She picked up her chopsticks and took a small bite of the food Quentin Blackwood had made. The taste hadn’t changed at all; it really wasn’t very good.

’But still, Ivy Sherwood ate it, one bite after another. The little one in her belly was truly amazing. It was usually so picky, but this time it wasn’t complaining at all. She wondered if the baby knew who had made this meal.’

Ivy Sherwood usually had a small appetite and would be full after just a few bites. Today she ate more than usual, but what could she do? Quentin Blackwood had made so much.

After finishing her meal, Ivy Sherwood went to the office and had a video conference with Edie and the others.

Although the company had been established for less than a year, Ivy Sherwood already had a goal and a blueprint in mind. This year’s goal was to make Iris a global brand.

They had already hired many people, the factory was constantly expanding, and before the new year, they had already opened stores in every city across the country. It could be said that they had become the largest fragrance company in the nation, no longer just that small studio.

Edie and the others had all received sizable year-end bonuses during the New Year, so they were even more fired up this year.

Without needing Ivy Sherwood to crack the whip, they were already full of their own ideas and had the plans arranged. There was no need for Ivy Sherwood to worry too much.

Moreover, Edie had learned a lot by Ivy Sherwood’s side. She was truly grateful to Ivy Sherwood. Otherwise, how could a recent graduate intern like her have achieved so much?

While Ivy Sherwood was busy with her meeting, Quentin Blackwood returned to Norhaven.

Behind him was a truckload of fresh vegetables and meat.

When the butler saw all this, he was momentarily baffled.

"President Blackwood, if there’s anything you’d like to eat, you can just tell us. We can procure these items for you."

"No need. You don’t have to cook lunch for me today."

The butler: "?"

Just as the butler was wondering what was happening, he saw Quentin Blackwood enter the kitchen.

The butler rubbed his eyes. ’This is a major event—President Blackwood is actually going to cook himself!’

At this, both the butler and the chef were terrified. "President Blackwood, if there’s anything we’ve done wrong, please just tell us. You really don’t have to do this! I have a family to feed! If I lose my job, my whole family will starve, President Blackwood..."

"You, come here. Teach me how to make this dish."

Quentin Blackwood ordered the chef over. He was now determined to master the culinary arts, all because Ivy Sherwood had said his cooking was awful.

He knew his cooking was average at best. He had learned the basics as a child. Later, after leaving Lustre for Aethelgard, he was swamped with work and had no time to cook.

Now that he was back in the kitchen, he was going to apply himself and learn properly.

"President Blackwood, are you serious?"

"Less talk. Get over here."

Quentin Blackwood had bought all these groceries for the sole purpose of learning.

’He could master all those complex business matters so quickly. Surely, cooking a meal couldn’t be that hard, right?’

The chef finally came over and began to teach Quentin Blackwood how to cook, step by step.

Quentin Blackwood spent the entire day in the kitchen, making one dish after another. Many of the staff at Norhaven had the "fortune" of tasting President Blackwood’s cooking that day, and the experience was... hard to put into words.

It wasn’t that it was completely inedible, just that it wasn’t very tasty.

Quentin Blackwood made dish after dish, and it seemed like everyone at Norhaven had become his taste testers.

In the end, Quentin Blackwood finally managed to make two decent-tasting dishes. He packed them into a lunch box, got in his car, and drove to Ivy Sherwood’s company.

Some of the employees at Ivy Sherwood’s company had seen Quentin Blackwood before. The fact that their boss had a handsome boyfriend was an open secret.

The staff didn’t know that Ivy Sherwood and Quentin Blackwood had broken up, so when he arrived, the young woman at the front desk asked who he was looking for.

Quentin Blackwood said simply, "Ivy Sherwood."

The receptionist’s face lit up with excitement. "You must be our boss’s boyfriend, right? You’re so handsome! Our boss is busy right now, but you can go inside and wait for her in the lounge over there."

The receptionist led Quentin Blackwood inside. He didn’t go to the lounge but instead stood outside the conference room, listening to the meeting within.

He knew that Ivy Sherwood had always been a woman of vision. She possessed a strong sense of logic and always knew her next move. The rapid growth of Iris was not just a testament to the excellence of her perfumes and fragrances; it was also largely due to her own strategic decision-making as the boss.

Her decisiveness in establishing her own factory and personally overseeing the entire process was proof of her great courage. And now, her current goal was to expand aggressively overseas, proving that a domestic brand could not only compete with major foreign labels but also achieve global renown.

Outside, as Quentin Blackwood listened to Ivy Sherwood speak in the meeting, the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile.

’The woman who was once clueless about business was now looking more and more like a real boss. A strange sense of pride swelled in his chest, like a parent bursting with pride for their exceptional child.’

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