Fated love: the unwanted bride

For a long time, she waited for his answer in vain.

Jasmine Yale knew in her heart, she actually knew it long ago.

She sneered coldly: "CEO Cheney, I’m not a toy, to be called and dismissed at will. Please respect me in your heart, and I will thank you."

"You still don’t listen to what I say, do you?" Sylvan Cheney’s tone remained unchanged.

If there were light now, Jasmine Yale would surely see his somber expression, just like she had countless times before.

"Why don’t you marry me? Marry me and I’ll listen." Jasmine Yale mocked, her voice innocent yet imperious, but hiding deep helplessness.

"Give up on it."

"Ha..." Jasmine Yale closed her eyes, silently listening to the heartbeat in her chest.

Give up... She had long given up, hadn’t she?

Jasmine Yale said nothing more, even her breathing was extraordinarily calm.

For a while, in the silent suite, only Sylvan Cheney’s heavy breathing could be heard, Jasmine Yale seemed like she didn’t exist.

She didn’t speak, nor did he open his mouth again.

He was still pressing on top of her, the fabric of his shirt rubbing against her body.

Several times, when the buttons brushed her skin, she frowned in pain, but Sylvan Cheney had no intention of leaving.

She should probably be grateful there was no light.

If the light were on, she would look so miserable, she would disdain herself even more at this moment.

There was the smell of alcohol and perfume on Sylvan Cheney, these scents mixed together, wafting into her nose, making her frown with discomfort.

She liked the Sylvan Cheney from before, clean and reserved, but that Sylvan Cheney... had long sunk in the boundless river.

He was Evan, not Sylvan Cheney, nor Landon’s Mr. Cheney, and certainly not the young man from her memories.

Perhaps Sylvan Cheney was too drunk, his hand gradually loosened, his whole body slumped over Jasmine Yale, pinning her to the door.

He leaned on her shoulder, his warm breath falling onto the delicate skin of her neck.

"Get up," Jasmine Yale said heavily.

"Don’t move." After a long time, Sylvan Cheney’s voice lowered, vague, as if he was talking to Jasmine Yale, or speaking in his sleep, "Where’s your hangover tea, is there any? I’ve drunk too much, my head hurts... hangover tea..."

His voice was very soft, no longer had the initial force, even tinged with pain.

"I don’t have hangover tea, and even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you." Jasmine Yale said flatly, "If you don’t leave, I will."

As soon as the words fell, before Jasmine Yale could stand up straight, Sylvan Cheney pressed down on her waist, not letting her move.

A wave of nausea surged over him, Sylvan Cheney couldn’t stand it, his eyebrows furrowed tightly.

He pressed her waist firmly, without saying a word, just lay on her shoulder.

Lying like that, he became unruly, his lips found her earlobe, and kissed down.

He knew that was one of her most sensitive spots.

Sure enough, as soon as he kissed her, Jasmine Yale’s whole body shivered, trembling uncontrollably.

His body was pressed tightly against hers.

After kissing for a while, he stopped, not continuing.

"Sylvan Cheney, let go!"

His large hand clutched her waist, his entire body slumped on her, breathing gradually steadying.

"I don’t know how much I’ve drunk, my tolerance is getting worse. I used to drink a lot during social gatherings and never got drunk. Sometimes at night I find it hard to sleep, often not until two or three do I sleep, and then up by five or six. The workload is heavy, but slowly got used to it, maybe because I’m still young."

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