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?”

the clock beside her and remained silent for a moment

housekeeper left with a soft

she got out of bed,

clear, the moon and stars shining brightly. The yard lights below were still on,

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

seemed to

all these years of getting used to

and saw an empty glass bottle on the windowsill. She had found it when she first

Peck’s Manor. She hadn’t brought it to Summers, and she hadn’t noticed

it have

lid of the bottle, she was at a loss for words. After all these years, the bottle had somehow made its way

birthday gift, she never

and she hadn’t taken it lightly. It 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 no need for

the glass. She wondered if the

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

the milk, it was nine o’clock, and

Nine-thirty, still nothing.

and still no sign of

and at some point, she fell

The dim light in the room allowed him to see her peaceful, sleeping face.

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

action, Boyd’s forehead was beaded with sweat. He Herschelt

for a long time, his arm resting on his

afternoon filled his mind. He was always nervous and careful when he touched

had forced himself not

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

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

blinked as if stung, his Adam’s

of pulling the same stunt, picking another man to force his surrender?

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

away in the den for the entire night, wrestling with the fury coiling in his chest. The urge

consequences. Yasmine would lash out, blame him, resent him even more, or worse, use it as an excuse to cut