The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride

Boyd’s grip on the car door handle tightened abruptly.

Yasmine leaned to the side to fasten her seatbelt. The man straightened up and casually remarked to Boyd, “Drive safe, buddy.” But the moment he caught a glimpse of Boyd’s dark, brooding eyes, he paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his gaze as he looked Boyd over.

Boyd shut the car door, lingering there for a long moment before he walked around the vehicle and got in.

The car started silently. Yasmine noticed the strain in Boyd’s grip on the steering wheel, the veins on the back of his hand standing out, a clear sign of his tension. Yet his expression was unchanged, calm, without a ripple of emotion.

“How’s the food at this place?” Boyd finally asked, after they had been on the road for a while.

“It’s decent.”d2

“I’ll take you here next time.”

“No need. I’d rather not come back anytime soon.”

“We’ll come back when you feel like it then.”

“You don’t have to drive me around next time.”

“Next time…” Boyd repeated the words, his eyes seeming to darken.

Back at the villa, the two entered the house. Boyd told the housekeeper, “Make sure she has dinner on time,” before heading upstairs without another word.

The unspoken message was clear: he wouldn’t be joining for dinner.

This is exclusive content from Noveldrama.com (Swnovel). Please read it on Noveldrama.com to support the author and the translation team!. Indeed, he didn’t show up for dinner or even later that night, and the usual glass of milk he brought to her himself was instead delivered by the housekeeper.

Yasmine held the milk glass, noting its temperature was almost the same as when Boyd brought it.

“Ma’am, I’ve watched Mr. Boyd warm the milk every day. I know exactly how much to pour, how to set the heat setting, and how many minutes to warm it. You usually read for another ten minutes before drinking it, right? The first time I reminded him it might be too hot, he just told me offhand.”

Yasmine gazed down at the glass, her fingers tightening slightly.

After a moment of hesitation, the housekeeper added, “But ma’am, Mr. Boyd hasn’t had dinner yet tonight. He ordered me to bring you this milk. He’s been in the study for nearly eight hours now, not eating or drinking anything. Is he really all right?”

silent for a moment before telling the housekeeper to get

left with

didn’t read as usual. Instead, she got out of bed, glass in hand, and walked to

and stars shining brightly. The yard lights below were still on, and two housekeepers were taking out the trash, their

Did they have difficult pasts? Perhaps. Maybe they had gone hungry, couldn’t afford their

to be doing

deep breath, Yasmine took a sip of milk. Indeed, after all these years of getting

the windowsill. She had found it when she first moved in but thought… it couldn’t

gave her at the orphanage with her and kept it at Peck’s Manor. She hadn’t

have ended up with Boyd? It

her name etched on the wooden lid of the bottle, she was at a loss for words. After all these years, the bottle had somehow made its way back to her. He had placed it right

that birthday gift, she never

hadn’t taken it lightly. It was just that they had spent so much time arguing. By the time

traced the smooth surface of the glass. She wondered if the bottle would be as useful

with the trash and laughed as they walked back. She turned away, placing the bottle back on the sill,

the milk, it was nine

Nine-thirty, still nothing.

and still no

worse, and at some point, she

midnight, the bedroom door finally creaked open. A tall, lean figure approached the bed and stopped beside Yasmine. The dim light in the room allowed him to see her peaceful, sleeping face. Even in sleep, her features

fell on her exposed shoulder, and he gently pulled the blanket over her, but as he saw her shoulder up close, the dark depths of his eyes seemed to collide with a surge of emotion, and his brow twitched visibly. His grip on the blanket tightened,

a simple action, Boyd’s forehead was beaded with sweat. He Herschelt down slightly and sat on the floor beside the

at Yasmine’s sleeping face for a long time, his arm resting

He was always nervous and careful when he touched her. And yet, that man had dared

had forced himself not to think about what might have happened between

her being intimate with another man was unbearable. It was something he had once had and lost, something he longed for, yet others

He still wanted her, but she refused to comply. She

if stung, his Adam’s apple

picking another man to force his surrender?

he reached to touch Yasmine’s face, his hand froze mid-air. He couldn’t afford

himself away in the den for the entire night, wrestling with the fury coiling in his chest. The urge to storm out, to confront either that man or her, was

the consequences. Yasmine would lash out, blame him, resent him even more, or worse, use it as