Chapter 389: Quentin Blackwood Holds Ivy Sherwood in His Arms

Bottles of liquor were piled high in the private room. Elijah Hawthorne produced a deck of cards from somewhere.

"Since you’re here, let’s play a couple of rounds. What’s the fun in just drinking?" Elijah Hawthorne began to shuffle the cards. "How about the loser drinks?"

Ivy Sherwood simply picked up her glass and downed it. "I can’t beat you at this anyway. I might as well be proactive and get it over with. Here’s to my inevitable defeat."

"That’s not a given. What if you get lucky, like last time? What if Lady Luck is on your side?" Elijah Hawthorne toyed with the cards, his long legs crossed, looking utterly languid.

Ivy Sherwood lowered her gaze, a bitter smile in her eyes. "There’s no Lady Luck. You probably just let me win last time, didn’t you? If there really is a Lady Luck, I’m definitely not her chosen one. Luck has never been on my side."

’She, too, had thought that heaven had finally remembered her, had sent her a priceless treasure. It had left her completely stunned, making her believe that someone so outstanding could actually fall for her.’

’She never imagined it was just a honey-coated blade, one that would stab right into her heart.’

’Now, Ivy Sherwood didn’t believe in any of it. As she should have known, you couldn’t trust anyone—especially men!’

’She also blamed herself for being so stupid. She’d seen what men like her father, Timothy Sherwood, were like since she was a child. Then there were Caleb Blackwood and Silas Blackwood. Even Old Master Blackwood had been a womanizer in his day. The whole Blackwood family was like that, so how could she have ever believed in Quentin Blackwood?’

Heh...

The smile on Ivy Sherwood’s lips deepened, and with it, the pain in her heart.

She picked up the bottle, poured herself another glass, and downed it in one go.

Just drinking like this was indeed no fun. She sat up straight. "Alright, let’s play. Who knows, maybe there really is a Lady Luck after all."

As it turned out, there was no such thing. Ivy Sherwood lost miserably. She ended up drinking most of the alcohol, while Elijah Hawthorne only drank a couple of glasses with her when he felt like it.

The game continued for two or three hours, lasting late into the night and into the early hours of the morning.

Ivy Sherwood was completely drunk, leaning against the sofa with a miserable expression.

Cards lay scattered across the floor. Elijah Hawthorne, who hadn’t had much to drink, walked over to Ivy Sherwood. He reached out and lifted her chin. "Ivy Sherwood, why are you so full of secrets? I wonder if what that old man from the Blackwood family said is true or not."

But...

’This was the first time Elijah Hawthorne had seen Ivy Sherwood’s face this up close. Why did her face look even darker under the dim lights?’

’He was only pinching her chin, yet he felt like something dark had come off on his hand.’

Elijah Hawthorne raised his hand and swiped it across Ivy Sherwood’s face.

Before he could get a clear look at what was on his fingers, the door was thrown open with violent force.

"What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Hawthorne?" Quentin Blackwood looked travel-worn, and his voice was terrifyingly cold.

Elijah Hawthorne straightened up, his eyes narrowing at the man striding in. "Seeing President Blackwood here at this hour, I almost thought I was in Aethelgard. Shouldn’t you be at home with your rumored girlfriend? What brings you here?"

"What did you do to her?" Seeing the motionless Ivy Sherwood, Quentin Blackwood felt his heart rip open.

"Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that question, President Blackwood? It’s what *you’ve* done to Ivy Sherwood, not me. Besides, since you already have a new flame, why bother with her? Why not just hand her over to me? I’m quite interested in her myself." Elijah Hawthorne’s lips curled into a smug, punchable smirk.

"Don’t you get any ideas about Ivy Sherwood." Quentin Blackwood’s gaze was frighteningly sharp.

Just then, Elijah Hawthorne’s phone rang. It was a subordinate, reporting that something had come up in his dealings that required his immediate attention.

After hanging up, Elijah Hawthorne looked at Quentin Blackwood. "Was this your doing?"

Quentin Blackwood neither confirmed nor denied it. Since Elijah Hawthorne clearly had enough free time to come to Lustre, he had simply asked Zane Linton to find something to keep him busy.

"You’re a ruthless one." Elijah Hawthorne was in a hurry to deal with the matter and had no more time for Ivy Sherwood.

"Wait," Quentin Blackwood called out to him. "When she sobers up, tell her you were the one who took her home."

"Heh," Elijah Hawthorne laughed. "So, President Blackwood is playing the part of a Good Samaritan now? Doing good deeds without taking the credit?"

Quentin Blackwood offered no explanation.

Elijah Hawthorne quickly left the club to attend to his business. As he got into the car waiting at the entrance and picked up his phone, he noticed a dark smudge on the pad of his finger.

He rubbed at it. ’Where did I get this dark powder on me? I didn’t touch anything... Everything was fine when we were playing cards.’

Suddenly, Elijah Hawthorne remembered something. Before he left, he had touched Ivy Sherwood’s face.

’Could it be...?’

A dark glint flashed in his eyes and his smile deepened. It seemed things were getting more interesting.

Back in the private room, only Quentin Blackwood and Ivy Sherwood remained.

Quentin Blackwood looked at Ivy Sherwood, his heart aching for her.

’She looks like she’s lost weight; her chin is so much sharper now. She must have been so sad lately, and I wasn’t even there for her.’

Her eyes were shut tight, her brows furrowed. She had drunk too much and seemed to be asleep now.

’In the end, he just couldn’t stop worrying about her. That’s why his first instinct upon hearing she was in a private room with Elijah Hawthorne, drinking heavily, was to rush over.’

’Even though it was so far away, even though it was so late there were no more flights.’

’It wasn’t so much that he was afraid of what Elijah Hawthorne might do to her, but more that he couldn’t suppress how much he missed her. If he didn’t see her, he felt like he would go insane.’

’He’d never imagined he could love someone this much—love her down to his very bones.’

Quentin stood before Ivy Sherwood, watching her with painstaking care. For him, just being able to see her like this was an extravagance. How could he dare to touch her?

’These past few days must have been so hard for her. She loves me so much.’

’I’m so sorry...’

’There were so many things Quentin wanted to say to Ivy, but he had no outlet for them. He didn’t want to be with Joy Sheridan. The person he truly wanted was right here, in front of him.’

’But he had made a promise to Elder Sheridan. His own life had been saved at the cost of the elder’s.’

The sofa was rather small. Already uncomfortable from having drunk too much, Ivy shifted, nearly sliding off onto the floor.

With swift reflexes, Quentin caught her, and Ivy fell directly into his arms.

Quentin didn’t dare move a muscle, even holding his breath.

As if sensing something, Ivy stirred in his arms. It was a familiar embrace, one she instinctively wanted to draw closer to, even with her mind in a chaotic haze.

"Quentin..." she murmured his name, as if talking in her sleep.

Her voice was soft, laced with a hint of grievance.

’Quentin’s heart felt like it was being viciously squeezed, a raw pain seizing him. He wanted to tell her he was there, that he’d always been there.’

’But he was the one who had pushed her away with the cruelest words. He wouldn’t even dare to stand before her when she was conscious.’

Though her mind was clouded, the familiar scent and the familiar embrace were things long since carved into her very bones.

On the surface, she had moved on. Only her heart knew that her love was merely being suppressed, ready to erupt at any moment.

She suddenly reached out and grabbed his sleeve. "Quentin... don’t go..."