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.

paces away, her expression difficult to discern. This was definitely one way to pick someone

“Yasmine…”

after her, his voice carrying a wounded

catch up, his

of

“Yasmine, my head’s spinning…”

got assistants, you’ve got Serana, and yet you drag me out here. What is it, am I just

murder your family in a past life to deserve you tormenting me like

climbed into the driver’s

Boyd had always been open with her. His

factory, so it wasn’t surprising that Boyd had a company under his

college, he was preoccupied with his company’s IPO. While others toiled for a living, he had a

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

he had acquired a new apartment

one was in his name. The smaller one, in another

plans, so Yasmine was hardly surprised. Ever since they had reconnected in college, Serana and Boyd seemed inseparably linked

things had become second nature to her. When she saw something,

before they were ten were just child’s play. Now, even though it was still the three of them, their thoughts slightly diverged,

Boyd’s apartment, her fingerprint granted

sofa. The apartment was spacious, with a sleek, luxurious design and cutting-edge

orphanage, and yet, her cozy little nook remained as plain and inviting as it had been back then. Yasmine curled her lip slightly, an inkling of jealous

down on the coffee table, she kept one for herself, sipping as she prodded the man sprawled on the couch. No reaction. With a sigh, she took a seat at the

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

were a shambolic mess, yet he had an air of rakish charm, with

her for a long time before leaning back into

to her temples. She shouldn’t have watched that soap opera before leaving the house. Now,

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 to

“Did you hear me?!”

ankle. Caught off guard by his sudden movement, Yasmine wobbled

hill at age ten, she couldn’t recall ever being in such

composure,

up, only to realize he was holding her

sending shivers down her spine, especially with the noticeable change beneath

her face as she snapped,

seemed deaf to her demand, his gaze roaming freely over her

down hard on his shoulders, desperate to break free, but suddenly found herself pinned beneath him after a dizzying

glared down at him, propping herself up on

be drunk or not,

against hers, his intense eyes causing her heart to lose its rhythm. “Yasmine, can’t we just get

Yasmine froze.

her, his words echoed

chill. Her voice was as cold as ice. “What are you

forehead, his eyes greedy as he took in her delicate features. “We can be

through sharply. “Have you lost your

above her head, pressing down firmly. “Yeah, you’re right, I have lost it. But there’s no