Chapter 222

“Oh, I do.” Ivy tucked the iodine away, leaned into the backseat, and fished out a water bottle. “Here you go.”

Jamison watched her with a teasing glint in his eye. “Why are you blushing?”

“I’m not. It’s just hot out.”

“The AC’s on.”

Ivy had no comeback. She shot him a glare. “Are you going to rinse your mouth or not?”

He grinned, finally understanding her flustered tone, accepted the water, twisted the cap, and pushed open the car door to rinse outside.

As soon as he stepped out, Ivy drew a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

By the time Jamison shut the door and slid back in, Ivy had already buckled her seatbelt and was ready to drive. “Put some ointment on yourself. I’m driving.”

Jamison glanced at her, a faint, inexplicable smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t say anything else, just opened the ointment, pulled down the vanity mirror, and dabbed the medicine on his face with surprising care.

Watching him fuss over his injuries, Ivy couldn’t help but think, “For a grown man, he sure is dramatic.”

“Where do you live? I’ll drop you off,” she asked quietly.

“No need. Just take me to Golden Maple Estate. I’ll get home from there,” Jamison replied, finishing with the ointment and leaning back in his seat.

He paused, realizing how that might sound, and quickly explained, “I’ve got an apartment near the hospital where I usually stay, and a house out in Glenbrook—I’ll show you both sometime this weekend. But it’s late, just head home. I’ll make my own way back.”

Ivy knew full well what that explanation was about. She grumbled under her breath, “Like I care. Where you live has nothing to do with me.”

“How is it not your business? You just admitted to Micah that we’re together,” Jamison said, not letting her sidestep the issue.

“That was just to get out of a tight spot.”

“Well, I took it seriously.”

The car fell silent until Ivy’s phone started to ring. Jamison checked his own phone, saw the caller ID, and gave a humorless little smile.

“Hello?”

“Jamison, how could you?!” Carla’s angry voice shot through the phone. “How dare you hit Micah? He’s your nephew!”

Jamison’s tone was cool, unbothered. “An uncle disciplining his nephew—seems fair to me.”

“Fair? In front of everyone? Didn’t you think about his pride? Or about your reputation? You two are family—what if this gets out?”

“If you’re so worried about gossip, maybe keep him away from my girlfriend. That sort of rumor wouldn’t sound any better.”

At that, Ivy glanced back at him, her face stormy with disapproval.

Jamison only gave her a gentle, indulgent smile.

Ivy pursed her lips, determinedly facing forward as she drove.

“Girlfriend? Are you actually with Ivy now? This is ridiculous! There are so many smart, beautiful women out there, and you pick her? Ivy’s got no sense of her place—does she really think she’s still high society’s darling? Sure, I feel sorry for what she’s been through, but that’s no excuse to disrupt someone else’s family!”

Up until now, Jamison had kept his composure, responding politely, but hearing his sister attack Ivy made his face turn cold and sharp.

“Carla, that’s beneath you—and beneath our family. Micah is the way he is because of your influence.”

Ivy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He’s actually calling out his own sister, by name. She’d suspected the Ludwig family wouldn’t accept her. She’d always known as much.

“And for the record, I pursued Ivy—she didn’t have a choice in the matter. If you have a problem, take it up with me. Leave her out of it.”

Carla, realizing she couldn’t win against her stubborn brother, resorted to the ultimate threat: “Fine. I’m not arguing with you. Come home right now. I’ll let Mom and Dad sort this out!”

She hung up.

Jamison set his phone aside, his expression unreadable.

Let them “sort it out”? Perfect. The bruises on his face would be all the evidence he needed. When he’d hit Micah, he’d kept it subtle—nothing that would show. Even when Ivy had dumped an ice cream cone on his head, his hair had hidden the mess.

Outside, the city was quiet. The Maserati sped through the empty streets. Inside the car, neither of them spoke.

As they neared Ivy’s building, she finally found her words. “Jamison, thank you for thinking so highly of me, but we’re just… not right for each other. Let’s just be friends, okay?”

Silence settled again, heavier this time.

She kept her eyes forward, not daring to look at him until they pulled up to the curb. “This is good. You can get out here—it’s easy to catch a cab.”

She forced herself to look at him, speaking first.

From the side, Jamison’s face was handsome but cold, his mood clearly sour.

But after her words, he turned to look at her, and his expression softened considerably.

“I’ll pick you up this weekend. Let’s go on a real date.”

His voice was low and gentle, as though he hadn’t just been stone-cold seconds before.

Ivy faltered, her brows knitting. She understood—he was simply ignoring everything she’d just said.

“Jamison, you can’t just bulldoze through this. Look at us—before we’re even officially together, things are already spiraling out of control. Are you really willing to go up against your whole family for me?”