Operation Red Book

When Ivy regained consciousness, she found herself leaning against a broad back.

There was a soft piece of fabric against my cheek, a bit like alpaca wool, but not as soft.

No matter what material it was, Ivy just felt warm and comfortable, as if she was lying in the clouds.

A leaf hit her face, and a deep and magnetic voice followed: "Are you awake?"

Ivy's heart skipped a beat: "Count Vincent Waite?"

She struggled to open her eyes, and the white light faded away in an instant, and the surroundings turned back into a soft darkness.

The terrace was still in front of her, but it was clearer than before she fainted. She could even see every wrinkle on the beige curtains.

There was a slight stinging pain on her cheek, and another leaf hit Ivy's face.

The evening wind became stronger, and the leaves could not withstand the strong wind. They left the branches and fell towards the people under the tree.

"You'll catch a cold if you sleep under a tree."

Count Waite's voice came from above his head. He turned around, stretched out his arms from both sides, and wrapped Ivy in his arms.

The white jade-like hand covered the dark brown coat, and Ivy realized that she was covered with Count Waite's clothes.

"So warm..."

Following her inner feelings, Ivy closed her eyes again and buried her head between her chest and coat, enjoying a moment of peace and comfort.

Her chest rose and fell with her breathing, and her coat exuded the mellow aroma of red wine. There was no place more suitable for feeling at ease than in her mother's arms, Ivy thought.

3, 2, 1…Okay, it’s over.

Three seconds passed in her heart, and Ivy broke free from Count Waite's arms without hesitation and stepped back three or two steps.

She folded her dark brown coat in two or three strokes and presented it to Count Waite with both hands.

The person in front of her didn't move. Ivy lowered her eyes, her mind blank.

Count Waite sat at the foot of a camellia tree, with one leg stretched out and the other slightly bent.

He pulled his hands back, half-tilted his upper body, and a meaningful smile appeared on the corner of his mouth. It seemed that he had no intention of taking the coat handed to him by Ivy in the short term.

"I came to the wine cellar to get some wine, and I happened to see you sleeping soundly against a tree trunk."

Count Waite freed one hand and pointed to the unopened bottle of wine standing under the tree.

"It was windy at night, the temperature dropped suddenly, and you were wearing thin clothes. I was afraid you would catch a cold, so I resorted to this desperate measure. It was definitely not an opportunity to offend you."

"Thank you, I understand your intention." Ivy lowered her head, no expression on her face.

"I'm awake now. You'd better put on your coat, take the bottle and return to the banquet."

"I don't want to go back." Count Waite turned his head and said in a cold voice.

"This banquet is so boring, even more boring than any other banquet I've ever attended. I've never been to such a boring banquet before. Cousin Dorian is really a boring person..."

"I'm the one who hosted the banquet."

"It's actually quite creative. I really like the truffle mashed potatoes that are just out of the pan. The idea of ​​making it on the spot is absolutely brilliant..."

"Oh! Count Waite, you'd better go back quickly." Ivy interrupted Count Waite's flattery and handed the coat in her hand forward again.

"You are a guest after all. Your long absence will arouse others' suspicion."

The temperature suddenly dropped. Ivy lowered her head, the only sound she could hear was the rustling of leaves in the wind.

There was no response from the other side. After a while of stalemate, Count Waite finally stood up and snatched the coat from Ivy's hand with a lot of force, as if he was angry.

"You are so reserved and polite to me. Are you the same when dealing with your own brother?"

Count Waite was dressed neatly and was talking to Ivy while brushing the dust off his pants, his tone higher than before.

"It turns out you're still hung up on our last conversation." Ivy rolled her eyes lightly, pondering helplessly in her mind.

I deliberately used that sentence to end the conversation, with the original intention of ending the ambiguous atmosphere between the two of them.

Recalling the last conversation, Ivy felt sad again, but then came embarrassment. She seemed to suddenly understand why Count Waite was so fussy.

"I was rude last time. I apologize to you now." Ivy bowed slowly.

"I shouldn't have rashly tried to establish a relationship with you. Don't worry, I didn't spread it around, and I didn't even mention your name to anyone. To me, you are just a British knight...that's all..."

Seeing that Count Waite's face was getting darker and darker, Ivy's voice unconsciously became lower and lower. She glanced at Count Waite's somewhat angry face, and slowly lowered her head again.

The two were silent for a long time again, until Count White let out a long sigh, his voice helpless and soft.

"Since you and I know each other and have so many connections, I put you on an equal footing with me, but you compare me to those filthy nobles."

There was a rustling sound of leaves underfoot, and the smell of wine coming from Count White became stronger and stronger, as he gradually approached Ivy.

"I don't want to be your brother, nor do I want to be your knight, do you understand?"

A mellow voice sounded above, like a glass of aged gin.

Smelling the clear and sweet aroma of wine, Ivy felt as if she was drunk too.

"I see..." she said groggily.

"Very good." Count Waite touched her shoulder, his voice even more seductive.

"Please tell me, what do you want me to do for you?"

Ivy's chin was gently lifted up, and Count Waite's face came closer and closer, his lips opening and closing like a beautiful red butterfly.

"I want...I want..."

The sound of her heartbeat was beating in her ears like fierce thunder. She seemed unable to feel her own breathing. Count Waite's hot breath hit her eyelids, causing her eyes to lose focus.

"Anything is fine, really, anything is fine...as long as you say it..."

The charming and sexy words echoed in her ears, softly and lingeringly. Ivy swallowed and her legs seemed to be stepping on cotton.

Green eyes, those beautiful green eyes, she wanted to look into those captivating green eyes and speak them out.

Ivy closed her eyes tightly and looked up hard for those green eyes that were as deep as a pool of water.

It was easy to find, but she would rather not find it.