My Fiancé's Scandals Never End, So I Married His Uncle Instead Chapter 61: Intimate Contact

Celia Sterling watched her arch-nesis in the perfu world approach, bracing herself for a confrontation.

But to her surprise, the man walked right up and politely dropped the word, "Daddy."

Celia was speechless for a mont. ’Are all the Dons from Varden this enthusiastic?’

Eldest Young Master Warren saw her blank expression, and his heart sank a little. Unwilling to give up, he tried again in an even lower voice:

"Rivermoon Daddy?"

Now Celia understood. She calmly shook her head. "You have the wrong person."

"You’re not?" Eldest Young Master Warren’s expression changed in an instant. "If you’re not Rivermoon, why were you so eager to answer the question just now?"

"You didn’t specify that only soone nad Rivermoon could answer." Celia looked at her rival’s frustrated face without a shred of guilt. "I’m a Perfur. Isn’t it normal to get excited when you see a challenge in your field?"

As she spoke, she glanced at the bottle of agarwood essential oil on the display stand, her aning obvious.

Eldest Young Master Warren refused. "How about I just give you the cash equivalent?"

"I don’t need money, I need the essential oil." Celia held out her hand, her almond-shaped eyes arching slightly. "Or are you saying that the esteed heir of the Warren Family plans to go back on his word in front of hundreds of witnesses?"

Eldest Young Master Warren let out a bitter laugh. "Considering my status, I can certainly afford to lose a little thing like this."

He made a gesture, and a staff mber imdiately brought over the bottle of essential oil from the display. Eldest Young Master Warren personally picked it up and handed it to Celia. "If you’re ever short on cash, you can contact to buy it back. At top dollar."

In front of everyone, he departed with great poise. Only Celia knew that when he’d handed over the bottle of agarwood essential oil, he had gripped it so tightly that she’d had to tug three tis to get it.

But this Eldest Young Master Warren obviously hadn’t given up. When the essential oil failed to lure out the big shot, he clapped his hands, and a staff mber imdiately brought over an exquisite cat carrier.

Inside was a cute little cat, whose coloring and breed were strikingly similar to a cat Rivermoon had once posted on their Monts.

Celia took out her phone and pulled up Rivermoon’s Monts feed:

A candid shot of a small cat from behind. The caption read: [The party is lively, but the back she shows is cold.] Posted: Two years ago.

An internet picture of a soft, cuddly kitten. The caption read: [I want to pet that cat, but it seems I can’t.] Posted: Half a month ago.

Whether it was an internet photo or a candid shot, Rivermoon seed to favor the sa type: vibrant fur, a proud and delicate personality, petite and lovely. The kitten from the internet picture also had a pair of big, round almond eyes.

"This cat," Eldest Young Master Warren said, his gaze sweeping across the crowd aningfully, "is a common calico, but I believe soone here will like it. For the second round of gas today, this cat will be the prize. We’ll also throw in a malatang head chef poached from The Premier Pavilion in tropia."

Celia sighed softly. ’So this is why he’s the group admin.’ His thods for sucking up to the VIP were endless—from the cat on their Monts to the malatang brand they ntioned. He was so thorough he hadn’t missed a single detail.

This was Eldest Young Master Warren’s last-ditch effort before getting blocked by the VIP and having his "ship" sunk. He had mobilized a huge number of people to find the type of cat the VIP liked. If Rivermoon was really willing to reveal themself for this cat, there would be a chance for the contract. But the ploy was too obvious, leaving the other mbers uninterested. A cat worth a few hundred wasn’t even enough for one of their afternoon teas. Only those eager to network actively cooperated and expressed their willingness to participate.

"Cece, you want that cat?" Silas Norwood asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice as he saw the interested look on her face again.

Celia nodded. "I do. If I can use this cat to get a eting with that VIP, I’ll have a chance to discuss a collaboration."

"Is it possible that the VIP you’re talking about doesn’t actually like this cat?" Silas Norwood hinted. "Not everyone likes to play with substitutes."

Celia recalled Rivermoon’s words, ’In over thirty years, this is the only one I’ve ever been obsessed with,’ and humd in agreent. "Whether they like it or not, I have to try."

Balloons had been prepared on the stage. Eldest Young Master Warren casually announced, "We’ll just play the usual ga of passing a balloon back-to-back. Win or lose, everyone gets to pet the cat once. The first-place winner takes the cat ho."

This way, he just needed to see who was the most engrossed in petting the cat to try and deduce who Rivermoon was...

However, a mber spoke up in dissatisfaction. "We’re all people of the world here, why are we playing such an innocent ga? There are so many n and won here today, let’s play sothing more interesting."

Eldest Young Master Warren looked at the man. "What ’interesting’ ga did you have in mind?"

"Tid kissing, two-person push-ups, a masked cheek-to-cheek dance..." The mber listed several options. "We’re out here to have fun, let’s not be as uptight as a corporate team-building event. What do you think, Young Master Warren?"

Second Young Master North cursed, "Holy shit! I’m hosting a respectable cruise party, not a pimping service for you married folks to ss around. Kissing and cheek-to-cheek dancing? What do you take this place for?"

Eldest Young Master Warren was indifferent. All he cared about was the subsequent cat-petting and cat-claiming session. "Let’s compromise, then. Two-person push-ups it is."

Two-person push-ups: one person lies flat on their back while the other does push-ups over them. It was a common ga on dating shows—suggestive, but not so passionate that it would fail to pass censorship.

Celia’s eyes lit up, and she let out a confident "oh." "I’m very experienced at this!"

Silas Norwood’s amber eyes darkened as they rested on her face. His tone was a subtle probe.

"Cece, you’ve played before? With whom?"

"Quinn Sinclair." Celia didn’t notice the dark undercurrent in Silas’s eyes. "Whenever those socialites organize these gas, I always team up with Quinn. I can do over a hundred at a ti, and she’s even better than . As a team, we were undefeated in the socialite circle."

’With a woman?’

Silas’s body relaxed imperceptibly.

Celia looked at Silas with a serious expression. "Silas, don’t worry. Leave the hard work to . You just have to lie there comfortably."

Nearby, Theo Chambers, who had been part of the background, desperately wanted to point out that his boss never played these kinds of gas.

But before the words could leave his mouth, he saw Silas reply softly, "Alright."

Theo Chambers clamped his mouth shut and kept his eyes down, continuing his role as a background fixture.

Several self-ford pairs of mbers had already gone on stage. anwhile, several female mbers tried to approach Silas and invite him to be their partner, but they were all blocked by the bodyguards disguised as young masters.

Celia took the initiative and pulled Silas’s hand, eager to get started. "Silas, let’s go on stage, too."

With looks that were considered legendary in the Capital Circle, they drew countless eyes the mont they appeared on stage. Eldest Young Master Warren had no love for Celia, the girl who had snatched his precious essential oil, and he looked down on the "unattainable flower" beside her who had been attracting admirers since the mont he boarded. But his upbringing compelled him to still say coolly, "Welco to the ga."

New mats were laid out on the floor. A dozen or so pairs of contestants each chose an area. Celia found a relatively quiet spot and gestured to Silas.

"Silas, you lie here."

Silas paused, then lay down, looking slightly uncomfortable.

The next mont, a soft, delicate body lowered over his.

One above, one below, they were separated by less than two fists’ distance, but it was close enough for their breaths to mingle. Celia planted her hands on either side of him, her voice soothing, "Silas, my core strength is pretty good. I won’t crush you."

Silas’s gaze was deep as he looked at her, saying nothing.

’He’d much rather she *did* crush him.’