The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride

“Hey there, I’m a bartender at The Jazz Cat, and it looks like the guy who owns this phone had one too many. Could you swing by and pick him up?”

Yasmine shifted in her chair, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. She had no intention of getting up. “Why me? He’s got a whole contact list in there. Get someone else to fetch him.”

“Huh?” The bartender sounded perplexed. “Aren’t you his girlfriend?”

There was a pause as Yasmine pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “Fine, I got it.”

She hung up, standing abruptly, all traces of patience leaving her expression. This was just great, she thought, saddled with this ‘girlfriend’ title and all the hassle it brought.

Heading to the bar? And getting plastered too? Unbelievable.d2

The air was getting cooler outside, so Yasmine grabbed a loose-fitting tee and threw a trench coat over it, making sure she was wrapped up snugly before grabbing her car keys and heading out.

Bars were the pulse of the night, noisy and alive. The moment Yasmine pushed open the door of The Jazz Cat, the heavy bass of a rock song pounded through her, as if the very beat was throbbing in her veins. She frowned, her eyes flashing with clear disdain.

There was Boyd at the bar, slumped over, still clutching a whiskey glass, his eyes shut tight, a crease of discomfort etched between his brows. Despite his drunken state, his tailored black slacks and crisp white shirt gave him a distinguished air, and even in this state, there wasn’t a hint of disarray.

Getting closer, Yasmine noticed his shirt was undone at the top, the bar lights dancing on his exposed skin. He might have looked reserved, even austere, but now he seemed more like a playboy, covered in the metaphorical scent of too many flirtatious encounters, his elegance tinged with a reckless charm.

At this moment, his every move seemed calculated to ensnare, emanating an aura that suggested he was ripe for the taking.

Yasmine didn’t know how many women had approached him before she arrived, but in the few minutes she stood by his side, two had already been sent away, their advances rebuffed.

With a snort, she wondered whether to praise him for his restraint.

Unable to stand the chaos and the stifling atmosphere any longer, Yasmine stepped forward and pushed him. “Had enough?”

The bartender glanced at her, noting the gray trench coat and her natural beauty, unenhanced by makeup.

For some reason, the name “Yasmine” sprang to his mind. It suited the woman in front of him perfectly.

And Boyd, who had been impervious to a dozen advances, finally stirred at her touch. He propped himself up, squinting at her for a moment before a lazy smile played on his lips, and his hand reached out to caress Yasmine’s cheek.

She scowled, tilting her head away. “What are you doing?”

His hand shifted to her shoulder, his voice a slurred whisper, “Yasmine…”

Her heart skipped, unbidden. Who gave him the right to call her like that? She swatted his hand away, her voice icy. “Are we going or not?”

Boyd looked at her for a moment longer, then nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The bartender watched, his jaw slack with surprise. He’d never have expected that the standoffish man would suddenly become as docile as a child fearful of being abandoned.

Yasmine swept a disdainful gaze around the place, her disgust plain on her face. “I don’t like this place. Move it.”

With that, she stuffed her hands into her pockets and walked away, not even bothering to help steady Boyd.

The bartender was stunned. In a flash, he saw the handsome man struggle to stand from the high stool, nearly falling before steadying himself against the bar.

Yasmine, already several paces away, her expression difficult to discern. This

“Yasmine…”

after her, his voice carrying

faltered, and Boyd staggered forward to catch up, his hand resting

on him, mingled with the aroma of the bar, ignited

“Yasmine, my head’s spinning…”

breath, and forcefully suppressed her rage. “You’ve got assistants, you’ve got

family in a past life to deserve you

door with a thud, Yasmine climbed into the

had always been open with her. His

run a library, manage a clothing factory, so it wasn’t surprising that Boyd had a company under his belt,

with job hunting after college, he was preoccupied with his company’s IPO. While others toiled for

saying went, ‘A child born in poverty becomes the head of the household early.’ This guy always managed to stand out from the

had acquired

apartments, one large, one small. The large one was in his name. The smaller one,

so Yasmine was hardly surprised. Ever since they

her. When she saw something, she’d instinctively get two, one for Boyd, and one

were ten were just child’s play. Now, even though

the door to Boyd’s apartment, her fingerprint granted

him unceremoniously onto the sofa. The apartment was spacious, with

since she’d moved out of the orphanage, and yet, her cozy little nook remained as plain and

coffee table, she kept one for herself, sipping as she prodded the man sprawled on the couch. No

finished her drink, she nudged him again. “Drink up, then go take a shower and hit the

eyes calm and profound. His clothes were a shambolic mess, yet he had an air of rakish charm,

long time before leaning back into the couch.

her temples. She shouldn’t have watched that soap opera before leaving

further seduced by this man, she stood up, ready to leave this

at the water glass on the coffee table and kicked his knee.

seemed

“Did you hear me?!”

hold of her ankle. Caught off guard by his sudden movement, Yasmine wobbled on one foot

one time she’d tumbled down a hill at age ten, she couldn’t recall ever being in such a disheveled

her composure, she noticed Boyd’s dark eyes fixated

up, only to realize he was holding

up suddenly, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine, especially with the noticeable

across her face as

however, seemed deaf to her demand, his gaze

a drunkard. She pushed down hard on his

as she glared down at him, propping herself up on his shoulders. “Boyd, you’re not drunk, are

I be drunk or

heart to lose its rhythm. “Yasmine, can’t we just get along? Tell me you love

Yasmine froze.

her, his words echoed

Her voice was as cold as ice.

forehead, his eyes greedy as he took in her delicate features.

through sharply. “Have

his shoulder to above her head, pressing down firmly. “Yeah, you’re right, I have lost it. But there’s no reason we can’t