The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride

The car pulled to a curb and Yasmine spoke with a detached indifference before swinging the door open and stepping out.

She glanced at the nearby diner, a sardonic smile creeping over her lips. The place was one of P City’s top-tier spots, not the kind of joint a college kid with no family to speak of could afford – hell, even folks from a decent background wouldn’t waltz in there without a second thought.

Talking about splashing the cash.

Boyd followed, stepping out of the car’s other side.

Yasmine was on the edge of the pavement, the rush of traffic buzzing by. Boyd, with a furrowed brow, strode over to her and guided her across to the safety of the sidewalk.

Yasmine brushed off his hand, “I’ll say it again – I’m not feeling great, I’m not going to the hospital, and I certainly don’t need you hovering over me every second. You go meet whoever you’re meeting. I’m heading home.”d2

She pulled out her phone to order a ride.

Boyd, with pursed lips, snatched the phone from her grasp. Yasmine looked at her empty hand, her usually impassive face darkening with irritation. “Boyd, there’s a limit, you know. My temper’s been good lately, but don’t mistake that for weakness.”

Instead of responding, Boyd opened the car door and nudged her back in. “Can’t bear the thought of leaving you here to fend for yourself. Does that make me heartless and cold? I don’t think so.”

Her smile was syrupy sweet, “Heartless and cold? Those words don’t even begin to do you justice.”

Boyd slid back into the car and shut the door behind him. “Drive.”

Rubbing at her temples, Yasmine continued, “So you’re playing the soothing boyfriend now, only to deal with Serana later? Doesn’t that wear you out?”

“You and she are never on the same scale for me,” Boyd said. “Making you feel better doesn’t mean I have to deal with her. And like I said, she’s not your concern.”

Yasmine gave a half-hearted smile, watching the road ahead, “If you don’t listen to me and end up taking me to the hospital anyway, you might as well fire your driver and sell the car.”

She noticed the driver stiffen – clearly, he wasn’t deaf.

Boyd turned to look at her, his hand briefly checking her forehead for fever before letting it drop. “You sure you don’t need the hospital?”

She gave him a withering glance and remained silent. The look in her eyes said it all – she was looking at him like he was an idiot.

Boyd pressed his lips together, then took her hand gently, “Home.”

“My place,” Yasmine corrected.

He didn’t speak, just gave a meaningful look to the driver, who understood immediately.

On the ride back, Yasmine, leaning against the seat with her eyes closed, seemed genuinely uncomfortable.

As expected, Serana’s call came through. Boyd answered honestly, saying that Yasmine wasn’t feeling well – and Yasmine didn’t even bat an eyelash.

Was Boyd honest? Painfully so. Not just with her, but with everyone. It seemed ‘lies’ were not in his vocabulary. But then again, she couldn’t fault someone for being too sincere.

Half-asleep, she felt the car stop and was just straightening up when Boyd scooped her out of the seat.

Seeing they were at Boyd’s apartment, she frowned, “So my words are just bullshit to you now?”

He gave her a disapproving glance.

Yasmine knew he disapproved of her choice of words, but at the moment, she couldn’t be bothered to come up with something more elegant that carried the punch she intended.

“I have everything you need here. Aren’t you feeling unwell?”

She didn’t bother to respond.

Back in the apartment, Boyd set her on the couch. “Rest up. I’ll whip something up for you.”

Yasmine wasn’t hungry, but she didn’t protest. Just like she said, her words were as good as nothing to Boyd.

his cooking stint, she took a quick shower. Emerging,

dining room, Boyd motioned for her to sit while he ladled the soup into a bowl for her. The table was set with light

few sips, she noticed he

touched his lips, “This is fine by

went back to eating in

asked if she was feeling any

Boyd, deciding to play the devoted caretaker, stayed home with

across the coffee

called to check in on them and offered

her forehead in her hand, listlessly watching a

overhear. At times like these, she felt as though women discussing their love lives were truly akin to lunatics. She didn’t want Boyd to

phone, Boyd gave her a

“I don’t know.”

time, so

groggy with sleep, was jolted awake by the sound. The TV

up

It was Serana.

you here?” he

Yasmine wasn’t feeling well. Thought I’d come

was the last thing Yasmine needed. It was

clearly planning to stay for lunch. She smiled at Yasmine, asking where she

sick,” Yasmine replied, her

but she maintained a smile, “Then I’ll whip

handle it. You don’t need

stand me up last night, so making up for it with a lunch isn’t

out a sarcastic laugh

way, guys, I bought quite a lot of groceries today. Mind if I invite someone else

Boyd frowned, “Who?”

“A friend of mine.”

the kitchen

the fact that she insisted on cooking, or the sudden, inexplicable desire to invite a stranger

the remote aside before standing

on the same level as Serana? Well, it was about

living

dashed out from the kitchen to answer

on the sofa, his efficiency with paperwork drastically lower than when Yasmine had been

with her

papers and stood up, giving Serana’s companion a cursory

seemed a bit out of place.

cold look

Lunch is ready. Boyd, could you call Yasmine

“Sure.”

easy for Serana, but Boyd wouldn’t allow her to skip lunch. Since he couldn’t win with words, he had to use

threw a cushion from his chair onto the

to afford Serana any respect, Yasmine still cared about Boyd’s feelings.

left Patrick feeling

a light broth. I added

Boyd’s foot, and ground her heel in a bit. She was frustrated but still had to

slightly, understanding her sudden aggression, and

the spoon and took a sip of the

“How

spoonful, her gaze detached, “Your cooking is

“That’s good to hear.”

her soup without another word, and Serana promptly refilled

compliance, Boyd offered Yasmine a bite of food, “Eat something solid. Don’t

contradict him, took another sip, “Am I a child that