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?”

beside her and remained silent for a moment before telling

left with a soft

she got out of

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

difficult pasts? Perhaps. Maybe they had gone hungry, couldn’t afford their favorite dress, stumbled on the path to their dreams, or endured an unrequited

seemed to

a deep breath, Yasmine took a sip of milk. Indeed, after all these years of getting used to the temperature of the milk, this was

the glass away slightly and saw an empty glass bottle on the windowsill. She had found it when she first moved in but

gave her at the orphanage with her and kept it at Peck’s Manor. She hadn’t brought it to Summers, and she hadn’t noticed what became of it when Bryson’s family

it have ended

loss for words. After all these years, the bottle had somehow

gift,

was just that they had spent so much time arguing. By the time they met again, there wasn’t much she wanted. The Pecks never denied her anything, and Boyd… well, there was

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

walked back. She turned

milk, it was nine o’clock, and Boyd

Nine-thirty, still nothing.

and still no

worse, and at some

and stopped beside Yasmine. The dim light in the room allowed him to

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

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

face for a long time, his

was always nervous and careful when he

many years, and he had forced himself not to think about what might

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

she refused to comply.

if stung,

stunt, picking another man to force his surrender?

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

the entire night, wrestling with the fury coiling in his chest. The urge to storm out, to confront either that man or

that man’s hand, but he knew the consequences. Yasmine would lash out, blame