The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride

After dinner, Yasmine and Serana tidied up the dining area.

“Cleaning up” was a generous term, considering Serana was doing most of the work.

Yasmine, who had grown up in an orphanage, may not have had the easiest childhood, but she was never required to do chores like cooking, laundering, or chopping wood. Once she left the orphanage, such tasks were even further from her reality. Her hands were soft and beautiful, with slender, pale fingers.

Standing beside Serana at the sink, the most Yasmine would do was to wipe down the already clean dishes. And she had this air about her, as if she had done some monumental task that deserved high praise.

Serana wasn’t much of a talker. It seemed ever since Yasmine started dating Boyd, Serana had become even quieter. The time they spent washing dishes was particularly tough for her. The moment the last plate was dried, she let out a sigh of relief and quickly said, “There’s nothing left to do now, Yasmine. You should get on with your evening.”

Yasmine rinsed her hands under the faucet and watched Serana put away the dishes. “I’ve always meant to say, you have a real knack for cooking and cleaning,” she said.d2

Serana paused for a moment, then smiled at her. “I’m just curious about these things, so I tend to pay more attention. Boyd isn’t too keen on eating out. If you have the time, I could teach you a few of his favorite dishes.”

Yasmine chuckled and shook her head. “No time for that.”

After putting away the utensils, Serana turned and gave her a strained smile. “They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I’m sure Boyd would be delighted if you cooked for him.”

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?” Yasmine smirked, looking at her. “Is that what you thought back then?”

Serana’s smile froze instantly. Her eyes locked with Yasmine’s for a few seconds before she forced herself to look away, her grip tightening on the edge of the countertop. “It seems like you’ve misunderstood something about us,” Serana said softly.

Yasmine observed her for a moment, then suddenly burst into laughter. “Why so tense? Who did I misunderstand you with?” she teased.

Serana bit her lip, replying quietly, “Nothing…”

Noticing Serana’s trembling hand on the counter, Yasmine’s eyes sharpened. “Thank you for the meal,” she said.

Serana didn’t reply, only managing a stiff smile.

Yasmine left the kitchen, thinking Serana’s smile was more unsettling than comforting.

Boyd was lounging on the sofa, perusing the stack of books she’d brought over, exuding a mature, reserved charm that struck a chord with her. She approached and held out her hand. Puzzled, he took her hand and kissed it lightly.

Yasmine looked at him with faint disgust. “I wanted you to smell it, not kiss it.”

“It smells nice,” he said.

“I just washed dishes. So you like the scent of dish soap?”

Boyd pulled her down beside him, his brow furrowing with suspicion. “You? Washing dishes?”

Yasmine pressed her lips together tighter, withdrawing her hand. “I did half the work.”

Boyd chuckled and reached into the drawer under the coffee table, pulling out a tube of hand cream. He squeezed a generous amount onto Yasmine’s hands and began to massage it in.

The faint scent of flowers filled the air. Once her hands were soft and moisturized, Boyd kissed them again, content.

“Don’t do that again,” he said.

Yasmine arched an eyebrow, admiring her well-cared-for hands. “Fine, since you asked so nicely, I won’t make it difficult for you.”

Boyd laughed, shaking his head as he gently tugged at her ear. “Staying over tonight?”

Yasmine gave him a languid look. “Not going back until you finish my paper.”

“Really?” Boyd paused, hand still on her ear.

Yasmine smirked and pushed his hand away. “Of course. But until it’s done, all those things you’re thinking about are off the table.”

Boyd’s frown deepened at her words.

Yasmine patted his shoulder. “No room for negotiation.”

at the books on the coffee table. “What about starting

cut him off

“Five days from now.”

“No.”

“Three days.”

“No.”

frustration, Boyd swept the books off the table, scooped

tomorrow night, no

Yasmine put

her hand. “She’ll

squirmed out of his embrace. “Then we’ll talk after she leaves. I’m not used to doing it under the watchful eyes of

wasn’t joking,

bed.

—

Yasmine found that Boyd wasn’t in the bedroom. She dried her hair and

hadn’t left yet, and Boyd was speaking with a detached tone on the sofa. “You still have two years before graduation.

anxious. “I think my

moment before conceding, “If you’ve

sigh of relief.

but she had a guess about what it

from the bedroom, Serana stood up from the sofa, her eyes lingering on her for a moment. “I’ve got

glass

pick up an orange peel from the coffee table and toss it in the

wife, Aliza, would play the part of the gentle and capable wife at home. She would cook a table of dishes that her husband and son liked, tidy the house until it

half-drunk,

grabbed a couple of trash bags and

any better, I’d say Serana was

and set the glass on the coffee table. “Good thing you

gaze briefly intense before it faded away. She looked at Boyd with a half-smile that wasn’t quite a

it. What’s there

scooped her up, placing her back on the bed in the bedroom. “Being mistaken for a maid after an afternoon’s hard work—I

you relieved she wasn’t upset, or that I

for a moment. “Is

why did you

shook his head, “Since you’ve pointed out the difference, if I were to

want to hear,” Yasmine said with a smile, but pushed him away and

a small smile curling his lips.

her phone, looked up at him. “If you don’t shower, go sleep in another room,

it back down and covered her again, his tone tinged with resignation, “I’ll take a

diving back into her mobile

—

Yasmine already nestled under the blankets, her phone set aside, her back

the covers, and was greeted by her

still-lucid eyes and smiled lightly, kissing her forehead, “I didn’t think you’d fall asleep so

“Do you think I was

Boyd paused, “So…”

let’s start with that

firmly into his embrace. Yasmine stared at the well-defined muscles on his chest

She got out of bed, washed up, opened

Boyd’s apartment, her clothes had pushed his to a corner—a pitiful sight to

was the one who insisted on having her there. The clothes were his own stubborn arrangement. Hadn’t he

back and headed out, only to be

“Morning, Yasmine. Come

fare of milk and sandwiches. Truth to be told, Yasmine wasn’t

his phone, looked up at her arrival, clearly

took a

driver to take you to school after breakfast. I’ve