The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride
Chapter 1898

Chapter 1898

“Hey there, I'm a bartender at The Jazz Cat, and it looks like the guy who owns this phone had one too many. Could you swing by and pick him up?”

Yasmine shifted in her chair, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. She had no intention of getting up. “Why me? He’s got a whole contact list in there. Get someone else to fetch him.”

“Huh?” The bartender sounded perplexed. “Aren't you his girlfriend?”

There was a pause as Yasmine pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “Fine, I got it.”

She hung up, standing abruptly, all traces of patience leaving her expression. This was just great, she thought, saddled with this ‘girlfriend’ title and all the hassle it brought.

Heading to the bar? And getting plastered too? Unbelievable.d2

The air was getting cooler outside, so Yasmine grabbed a loose-fitting tee and threw a trench coat over it, making sure she was wrapped up snugly before grabbing her car keys and heading out.

Bars were the pulse of the night, noisy and alive. The moment Yasmine pushed open the door of The Jazz Cat, the heavy bass of a rock song pounded through her, as if the very beat was throbbing in her veins. She frowned, her eyes flashing with clear disdain.

There was Boyd at the bar, slumped over, still clutching a whiskey glass, his eyes shut tight, a crease of discomfort etched between his brows. Despite his drunken state, his tailored black slacks and crisp white shirt gave him a distinguished air, and even in this state, there wasn't a hint of disarray.

Getting closer, Yasmine noticed his shirt was undone at the top, the bar lights dancing on his exposed skin. He might have looked reserved, even austere, but now he seemed more like a

playboy, covered in the metaphorical scent of too many flirtatious encounters, his elegance tinged with a reckless charm.

At this moment, his every move seemed calculated to ensnare, emanating an aura that suggested he was ripe for the taking.

Yasmine didn't know how many women had approached him before she arrived, but in the few minutes she stood by his side, two had already been sent away, their advances rebuffed.

With a snort, she wondered whether to praise him for his restraint.

Unable to stand the chaos and the stifling atmosphere any longer, Yasmine stepped forward and pushed him. “Had enough?”

The bartender glanced at her, noting the gray trench coat and her natural beauty, unenhanced by makeup.

For some reason, the name "Yasmine" sprang to his mind. It suited the woman in front of him perfectly.

And Boyd, who had been impervious to a dozen advances, finally stirred at her touch. He propped himself up, squinting at her for a moment before a lazy smile played on his lips, and his hand reached out to caress Yasmine’s cheek.

She scowled, tilting her head away. “What are you doing?”

His hand shifted to her shoulder, his voice a slurred whisper, “Yasmine...”

Her heart skipped, unbidden. Who gave him the right to call her like that? She swatted his hand away, her voice icy. “Are we going or not?”

Boyd looked at her for a moment longer, then nodded. “Yeah, let's go.”

The bartender watched, his jaw slack with surprise. He'd never have expected that the standoffish man would suddenly become as docile as a child fearful of being abandoned.

Yasmine swept a disdainful gaze around the place, her disgust plain on her face. “I don’t like this place. Move it.”

With that, she stuffed her hands into her pockets and walked away, not even bothering to help steady Boyd.

The bartender was stunned. In a flash, he saw the handsome man struggle to stand from the high stool, nearly falling before steadying himself against the bar.

When the bartender looked up again, he saw Yasmine, already several paces away, her expression difficult to discern. This was definitely one way to pick someone up.

“Yasmine...”

Boyd called after her, his voice carrying a wounded edge.

Slowly, Yasmine's pace faltered, and Boyd staggered forward to catch up, his hand resting on her shoulder. His tall frame enveloped her almost completely.

The smell of liquor on him, mingled with the aroma of the bar, ignited a flare of anger within her. “Boyd!”

“Yasmine, my head's spinning...”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forcefully suppressed her rage. “You've got assistants, you've got Serana, and yet you drag me out here. What is it, am I just free labor to you?”

She shoved him into the car. “Did I murder your family in a past life to deserve you tormenting me like this?”

Slamming the car door with a thud, Yasmine climbed into the driver's seat, her face taut with tension.

Three years had passed, and Boyd had always been open with her. His voracious reading since childhood hadn't been for nothing.

She could run a library, manage a clothing factory, so it wasn't surprising that Boyd had a company under his belt, aiming to go public in the next couple of years.

While others struggled with job hunting after college, he was preoccupied with his company's IPO. While others toiled for a living, he had a house, a car, and a flourishing career.

The saying went, 'A child born in poverty becomes the head of the household early.' This guy always managed to stand out from the rest.

In the city's prime location, he had acquired a new apartment the previous year.

Two apartments, one large, one small. The large one was in his name. The smaller one, in another building, was registered under Serana's name.

After all these years, he always considered Serana in his plans, so Yasmine was hardly surprised. Ever since they had reconnected in college, Serana and Boyd seemed inseparably linked in her eyes.

So many things had become second nature to her. When she saw something, she'd instinctively get two, one for Boyd, and one for Serana.

Maybe she truly believed that the childhood years before they were ten were just child's play. Now, even though it was still the three of them, their thoughts slightly diverged, and their interactions remained mostly peaceful.

Standing at the door to Boyd's apartment, her fingerprint granted her access.

Once inside, she dropped him unceremoniously onto the sofa. The apartment was spacious, with a sleek, luxurious design and cutting-edge technology at every turn.

Nine years had passed since she'd moved out of the orphanage, and yet, her cozy little nook remained as plain and inviting as it had been back then. Yasmine curled her lip slightly, an inkling of jealous stirring within her.

Pouring him a glass of water and setting it down on the coffee table, she kept one for herself, sipping as she prodded the man sprawled on the couch. No reaction. With a sigh, she took a seat at the coffee table.

After she finished her drink, she nudged him again. "Drink up, then go take a shower and hit the hay!"

Boyd turned over, his dark eyes calm and profound. His clothes were a shambolic mess, yet he had an air of rakish charm, with a hint of roguishness.

Boyd just stared at her for a long time before leaning back into the couch. "Dizzy," he mumbled.

Yasmine, seeing his shirt collar pull open even further from his movement, pressed her fingers to her temples. She shouldn't have watched that soap opera before leaving the house. Now, even glancing at Boyd had her mind wandering into dangerous territory.

To avoid being further seduced by this man, she stood up, ready to leave this den of temptation.

Before walking out, she glanced at the water glass on the coffee table and kicked his knee. "Drink up and scram to the shower. I'm outta here."

Boyd's eyes seemed to flicker.

"Did you hear me?!"

After another kick, Boyd suddenly grabbed hold of her ankle. Caught off guard by his sudden movement, Yasmine wobbled on one foot and then, with a tightening grip at her waist, she toppled onto the couch.

Except for that one time she'd tumbled down a hill at age ten, she couldn't recall ever being in such a disheveled state.

Straddling Boyd, her mind was a scrambled mess. As she regained her composure, she noticed Boyd's dark eyes fixated on her, deep with unfathomable thoughts.

She tried to get up, only to realize he was holding her tightly.

"Yasmine..." He spoke up suddenly, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine, especially with the noticeable change beneath her.

An icy displeasure spread across her face as she snapped, "Boyd, let go."

Boyd, however, seemed deaf to her demand, his gaze roaming freely over her clear, luminous face.

Yasmine grew increasingly uneasy, aware of the danger of being alone with a drunkard. She pushed down hard on his shoulders, desperate to break free, but suddenly found herself pinned beneath him after a dizzying flip.

Her heart skipped a beat as she glared down at him, propping herself up on his shoulders. "Boyd, you're not drunk, are you?"

"Should I be drunk or not, Yasmine?"

He leaned closer, his nose brushing against hers, his intense eyes causing her heart to lose its rhythm. "Yasmine, can't we just get along? Tell me you love me, Yasmine. Please?"

Yasmine froze.

Staring at the man before her, his words echoed in her mind. Love?

Her eyes narrowed with a clear chill. Her voice was as cold as ice. "What are you babbling about?"

Boyd brushed the hair from her forehead, his eyes greedy as he took in her delicate features. "We can be a couple."

"Boyd!" Yasmine's voice cut through sharply. "Have you lost your mind?"

Boyd moved her hands from his shoulder to above her head, pressing down firmly. "Yeah, you're right, I have lost it. But there's no reason we can't be together, is there?"

Yasmine's mind was in turmoil, struggling to break free, but the hand above her head was unyielding.

Boyd's lips descended, and as his wet touch invaded her territory, her mind exploded, unable to find any sense of grounding. She'd never really experienced love; the most she'd done was kiss Boyd in the cafeteria three years ago, and that had been nothing more than a peck on the lips. Now, feeling his kiss, she didn’t know how to react.

"Yasmine... Yasmine..."

Her momentary daze allowed Boyd to call her name, his voice gently stroking every nerve in her body.

After years of yearning for Yasmine, Boyd finally held her close, using alcohol as a pretext for such intimacy. He was cautious, the long-suppressed desire to have her stirring uncontrollably within him.

His warm, moist kisses trailed from her lips, down her smooth jawline, and along her neck to the hollow of her collarbone. The intimacy of their touch made her whole body hypersensitive. Yasmine couldn’t resist the tingling sensation. His touch was magnetic, and her body seemed filled with countless fine iron filings, all surging to the surface of her skin.

She disliked this loss of control, being without the right to govern herself, and having to follow his lead and intentions – this dependency was truly unappealing.

"Boyd..."

Regaining a fraction of her senses, she regretted not keeping her coat buttoned up, which had made it all too easy for this drunken lunatic to take advantage of her.

Underneath her loose homewear, his wandering hand was already causing chaos.

Suppressing the magnetic reactions his touch elicited, she found her leverage and tried to push herself up, her voice trembling. "Boyd, sober up. Do you have any idea what will happen if you keep this up?!"

Boyd paused, his eyes alight with heavy desire. His hand caressed her neck, the other gently lowering her propped elbow, as he lowered her back onto the couch, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol. "If I let go of you now, would the outcome be any different?"

Yasmine's brow furrowed, and Boyd let out a faint, bitter chuckle. "Don't bother with that lie, Yasmine. You don't even believe it yourself."

"Boyd..." Yasmine felt not only a shiver down her spine but also a fear seeping through her.

"Stop, Yasmine. I don’t want to hear your words right now. You know what I want to hear isn't what you're about to say. Can't I just love you? I can't let anyone else have you. You can't belong to them, you know."

Yasmine was stunned silent again.

Love her? Who could possibly love her?

To whom would she ever belong? Who was destined to be her man?

Her mind drew a blank. She had never considered the questions before.

To be this close, or even more intimate, with another man? Her brow furrowed tighter, a wave of revulsion unlike any she'd felt before welled up within her.

Yet, at that moment, Boyd seemed to be testing her limits, leaning in closer as if drawn by a magnetic force.

Their breaths mingled, and Yasmine’s eyes fluttered slightly. That sense of disgust, it seemed to falter somewhat in Boyd’s presence.

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