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.

saw Yasmine, already several paces away, her expression difficult to

“Yasmine…”

his

to catch up, his hand resting on her shoulder. His tall frame enveloped her almost

mingled with the aroma of the

“Yasmine, my head’s spinning…”

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

car. “Did I murder your family in

door with a thud, Yasmine climbed into the driver’s seat, her face taut with

Boyd had always been open with her. His voracious reading

a clothing factory, so it wasn’t surprising that Boyd had a

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

born in poverty becomes the head of the

location, he had acquired a new apartment the

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

hardly surprised. Ever since they had reconnected in college, Serana

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

truly believed that the childhood years before they were ten were just child’s play. Now, even

to Boyd’s apartment, her fingerprint granted

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

the orphanage, and yet, her cozy little nook remained as plain and

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

drink, she nudged him again. “Drink up, then

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

stared at her for a long time before leaning back into

her temples. She shouldn’t have watched that soap opera before leaving the house. Now, even glancing at Boyd had her

by this man, she stood up, ready to leave this den

coffee table and kicked his knee. “Drink up and scram to the shower. I’m

seemed to

“Did you hear me?!”

off guard by his sudden movement, Yasmine wobbled

a hill at age ten, she

mess. As she regained her composure,

only to realize he was

suddenly, his deep voice sending shivers down

her face

deaf to her demand, his gaze roaming freely over

uneasy, aware of the danger of being alone with a drunkard. She pushed down hard on his shoulders, desperate to break free, but suddenly found

a beat as she glared down at him, propping

drunk or

nose brushing against hers, his intense eyes causing her heart to lose its rhythm. “Yasmine, can’t we just get along? Tell me you love me, Yasmine.

Yasmine froze.

man before her, his words

narrowed with a clear chill. Her voice was as cold as ice. “What

eyes greedy as he took in her delicate features. “We

Yasmine’s voice cut through sharply. “Have you lost

above her head, pressing down firmly. “Yeah, you’re right, I have lost it.