The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride
Chapter 1938

Chapter 1938

The housemaid offered an apron with a look of concern, but Yasmine glanced at it dismissively and turned away. Her message couldn’t be clearer.

The maid glanced at Boyd, who dismissed her with a nod.

Yasmine was never one for aprons. Wasting a perfectly good dress on her was preferable to her wearing the cumbersome thing that, in her opinion, marred her appearance.

The only reason she was slumming it in the kitchen was for her grandkids.

Yasmine stood surveying the kitchen, a barely perceptible frown creased her forehead. Boyd knew all too well she was clueless about where to start. He moved to the fridge, pulling out vegetables and beef, placing them before her.

“I’m craving a beef stew, if you wouldn't mind,” he said, effortlessly saving Yasmine from more embarrassment.d2

She raised an eyebrow, inspecting the produce before nodding in agreement. “Why don’t you step out for a bit?”

As she turned on the faucet to wash the vegetables, Boyd stepped in and took over. “I’ll wash these up for you. All chefs have their sous-chefs, after all.”

Yasmine leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching as Boyd meticulously cleaned everything. Then, moving to the cutting board, he began to chop with practiced ease. “This is also part of a sous-chef’s duties,” he explained.

Yasmine let out a derisive snort. “I also know that head chefs can sit in their fancy high chairs, barking orders without lifting a finger. Maybe I should pull up a chair and direct you?” Clearly, she was irritated.

This is exclusive content from FindNovel.com (Swnovel). Please read it on FindNovel.com to support the author and the translation team!. Boyd stepped aside, “I still want to taste the chef’s creations.”

Yasmine shot him a dark look and approached the stove. She reached out to turn it on, and a flame shot up, making her jump back. Boyd quickly pulled her away, placed a pan on the burner, and turned the flame down.

Her pride was wounded. “Boyd, it seems you're not that eager to try my cooking after all.”

Without a word, Boyd grabbed an oven mitt and slipped it onto her hand. “Be careful. I’ll leave you to it.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly before hesitantly exiting the kitchen.

Yasmine looked at the bulky mitt and tightened her lips in disapproval, tossing it aside.

She ran through the cooking steps in her mind, considering the potential grease splatter, and chuckled. Turning, she filled a clean pot with water and poured it into the pan, followed by a bit of oil, then added the veggies and beef. She threw in salt and other seasonings, then covered the pan.

Boyd, eavesdropping from outside, never heard the expected sizzle of sautéing. Out of curiosity, yet mindful of Yasmine’s pride, he sent the maid under the pretense of fetching something to check on her. The maid emerged, barely concealing a smile. “Don’t worry, sir. The lady is fine.”

“And what is she doing now?” Boyd inquired.

“She’s making stew.”

The maid, considering the image she had witnessed, was proud of her clever answer. Indeed, it was stew.

Boyd was puzzled when Yasmine emerged, holding a bowl large enough to rival her face. He quickly dismissed the maid.

Yasmine set the bowl on the table, resting one hand on the surface, “It might be a bit mushy. I was worried it wouldn't cook through, but it’s definitely done. You can eat it without worry.”

Boyd eyed the bowl. Overcooked ingredients would certainly be mushy, and the once vibrant greens would turn a dull yellow.

“Didn’t you want to be my little guinea pig? It’s all yours. Take your time.”

He tried to pick up some veggies with his fork but ended up with a clump. Glancing at Yasmine, who watched him with a feigned gentleness, Boyd took a deep breath and shoved the clump into his mouth. His face contorted instantly. He nearly choked but managed to swallow down the mouthful.

Yasmine called for the maid, “I’ll have pasta for dinner, please.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Then she turned to Boyd, “How does it taste?”

Boyd hesitated, then nodded, “Not bad.”

Yasmine smiled thinly, sitting opposite him. “If it's so good, eat up. It’s all yours.”

He took another bite, “Yasmine, this stew is certainly special, but maybe a bit too eclectic. Elio and Luna are still young, they might not handle such a robust mix of flavors.”

Yasmine considered for a moment and nodded, “You have a point. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Boyd smiled warmly.

She tapped the table, “Don’t just sit there, eat. It’ll turn to a blob soon.”

He tightened his grip on the fork, feeling his stomach revolt.

The maid served the pasta to Yasmine. Boyd glanced at her inviting dish, then back to his own, “Yasmine, I’m full.”

She picked up her fork, prodding her pasta, “I thought you said it was delicious. You've hardly eaten. It wasn't quite the cute guinea pig experience, was it?”

“The flavors were rich, but Yasmine, I’m not a fan of spicy, and I definitely don’t like wasabi.”

Yasmine arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on her lips as she eyed Boyd. "Really now? I was so focused on making it delicious that I forgot about that. But is it really that good? You don't look so convinced."

Boyd pushed the bowl slightly towards Yasmine. "I think it's decent. Why don't you give it a try?"

"No, thanks. I'm not a fan of spicy stuff, and oh, I absolutely detest the taste of mustard, not to mention I can't stand anything with too much seasoning." she said, before taking a bite of her pasta. She nodded contentedly after her bite.

Boyd was speechless. The combination of spiciness and the pungent mustard was overwhelming, and the rich mix of exotic spices was almost unbearable. As for the rest, he didn't even know where to start with his critique. At the very least, she was aware of what ingredients she had tossed into that stew.

Whether it was tasty or not, she must have had an idea, otherwise she wouldn't have had the maid cook a separate bowl just for her.

Although he hated to suspect it, he couldn't help but think that this dish was her way of getting creative with her revenge.

After another couple of bites, he couldn't muster the courage to continue and finally set down his fork. He reached for the glass of water the maid had placed beside him and took a few desperate gulps.

Yasmine, on the other hand, leisurely finished her meal, wiped her mouth, and glanced at the half- eaten noodles with a slight tug at the corner of her lips.

"Cooking's a pretty decent hobby, you know. I'll make breakfast tomorrow. What would you like?"

Boyd was now deeply regretting ever suggesting she should refine her culinary skills. He had thought with her intelligence, cooking would be a breeze if she put her mind to it. Clearly, that wasn't the case. He also had forgotten to factor in personal emotions into the mix.

"Just some cereal will do," he said, not daring to ask for more.

"Got it," Yasmine nodded.

The next morning, sitting at the dining table, Boyd was surprised to see the bowl in front of him. "You made oatmeal? Did you get up early to prepare it?"

Yasmine's expression darkened instantly, but she pressed her lips together and didn't say a word. It wasn't until Boyd took a spoonful of oatmeal and his face twisted that she allowed herself a small, sardonic smile.

"Yeah, I'm sorry to disappoint. The heat might have been a bit high, and the color a bit too dark."

Boyd looked into his bowl at the black sludge. Just a bit too dark?

Perhaps sensing his reaction, Yasmine elaborated, "So, to even out the color, I added some squid ink."

Boyd was speechless. She was a genius indeed.

Yasmine leaned back in her chair, her smile frosty. "Why aren't you eating? Doesn't it taste good? Squid ink pasta and squid ink risotto are all the rage now, even if they don't exactly look appetizing."

Boyd asked her, "Did you have any?"

At that moment, the maid emerged from the kitchen, placing a glass of milk and a plate with a fried egg and a few broccoli next to Yasmine. "I wasn't in the mood for porridge."

Other than as a means of getting even with him, Boyd couldn't find any other reason for her actions.

Yasmine picked up a fork and ate a broccoli, eyeing him as he looked forlornly at his bowl, her eyebrow arching unapologetically. “You should be grateful. I didn't add soy sauce."

Boyd's mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. Hearing her mention "soy sauce," he truly felt a wave of relief. Clearly, the idea of a bizarrely fishy and salty porridge had crossed her mind. Compared to that, he'd rather have a bit of squid ink.

After all, between "seafood porridge" and "soy sauce porridge," any sane person would choose the former.

In reality, while Boyd had managed to rebind Yasmine to his side, it seemed she wasn't intent on letting bygones be bygones. No matter the opportunity, she wouldn't pass up the chance to exact her playful vengeance.

Before, her weapon had been indifference. Now, she simply favored a more direct approach. But compared to the cold silence of the past, Boyd found this straightforward method of revenge far

easier to bear.

Truth be told, if she ever claimed to forgive him, he wouldn't believe it. Pretending nothing had happened wasn't an option—they both knew it.

What had happened was too profound to simply forget.

However, if turning past grievances into acts of retribution, even if just to find a small measure of relief, was what she needed, he was more than willing. He owed her too much, yet his love for her was even greater. He'd cling to her even if it meant a lifetime of pain for both of them. Especially now, as she had found a way to make it somewhat bearable for him.

She could keep punishing him like this, he thought.

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