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?”

her and remained silent for a moment before telling the housekeeper to

with a soft

as usual. Instead, she got out of bed, glass in hand, and walked

The yard lights below were still on,

Maybe they had gone hungry, couldn’t afford their favorite dress,

seemed to be

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

away slightly 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 what became of

even if Bryson had taken it, how could it have ended up with Boyd? It couldn’t be

the bottle, she was at a loss for words. After all these years, the bottle had somehow made its way back to her. He

birthday gift, she

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

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

laughed as they walked back. She turned away, placing the bottle back on the

nine o’clock, and

Nine-thirty, still nothing.

and still

and at some point, she fell

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 were calm and detached,

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, his hand shaking with effort, before he

a simple action, Boyd’s forehead was beaded with sweat. He Herschelt down slightly

for a long time, his arm resting on his Herschelt knee, his fingers

her that afternoon filled his mind. He was always nervous and careful when he touched her. And yet,

and he had forced himself not to think about what might have

was unbearable.

she refused to comply. She even wanted to keep seeing

suddenly blinked as if stung, his Adam’s apple

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,

locked 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

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