Fated love: the unwanted bride

Chapter 74: How Dare You Like Him?

Translator: 549690339

Everything was black, utterly hopeless.

Cold and hungry, she had nothing at all.

She had a dream where she nestled in her mother’s warm embrace, listening to her mother tell the story of the Cowherd and the Weaving Maid as she pointed at the Milky Way.

Tender as water, dreams as sweet as Jasmine.

When she woke up, a slender, fair hand with distinct knuckles was stretched out in front of her.

A handsome young boy squatted before her, even holding a freshly unwrapped lollipop in his hands.

“You’re awake.”

Once she opened her eyes, she bit the lollipop in the young boy’s hand, not giving a single thought to who he might be.

So, when she first saw Sylvan Cheney, she wasn’t spellbound by his good looks or his pleasing voice.

Instead, she was captivated by his lollipop.

Once she had the lollipop in her mouth, she got a good look at Sylvan Cheney.

This boy was really handsome.

He was even more handsome than any of the teenagers she had seen before!

He had clear eyebrows, beautiful eyes, an air of cold aloofness and pride around him, and he wasn’t given to smiling.

Under the sunlight, his white shirt was clean and neat, carrying a fresh scent.

Well, he was definitely different from how filthy she was.

“Big Doggie…” she mumbled around the lollipop, her watery big eyes blinking, her words slurred.

The boy frowned:

The candy was sweet; the sunlight was warm.

And this lollipop was apple-flavored.

“Big Doggie…”

“Call me Bro.”

“Hmm.”

Jasmine Yale smiled. Her eyebrows curved upwards in amusement; she had thought he didn’t know how to speak.

His voice was very pleasant to the ear.

“What are you thinking about?” Sylvan Cheney reached out to snatch his phone from her.

“Hey!”

Jasmine Yale quickly recovered, clutching the phone in her hand.

She didn’t know why he used this password – was it because it was easy to remember?

Or, did the Double Seventh Festival hold some special meaning for him and his wife?

After unlocking it, she opened up the contact list.

“Don’t look.”

Sylvan Cheney frowned, prepared to take back his phone.

Jasmine ignored him, dodged his hand, and quickly looked for Charles Mcintosh’s number.

“I’m not prying into your privacy; I’m just searching for Charles Mcintosh’s number. It’s pouring outside – if he doesn’t come to pick you up, you won’t be able to make it home.”

Despite everything, Jasmine didn’t want to argue with a drunk man and tried to pacify him instead.

While scrolling through the contact list, she noticed a contact saved as “Wife”.

She hesitated for a few seconds but didn’t have the courage to open it.

He really was married, had his own family.

She knew she was being childish; how could someone like her, a little girl who was kicked out by her stepmother and had a humble background, be a match for the distinguished Mr. Cheney?

What audacity did she have three years ago to even think she could like him?

What overreach.

Her fingers quickly scrolled down, and she finally found Charles Mcintosh’s number.

She dialed it: “Is this Charles Mcintosh?”

Charles Mcintosh, who was outside the First Class Seafood Restaurant, was somewhat surprised upon receiving the call. But being the intelligent man he was, he instantly understood what was going on.

“This is him.”

“I am Jasmine Yale. Your boss, Mr. Cheney, is drunk; I happened to see him. Come take him away.”

Charles glanced at the seafood restaurant; through the rain, he could faintly make out Jasmine Yale and Sylvan Cheney nearby.

He was drunk?

Mr. Cheney had a bit of alcohol with shareholders in the evening, but it was just a little bit.

“Miss Yale, I am not in Landon.”

Saying so, Charles started his car and depressed the accelerator pedal, quickly driving away.

The black Rolls-Royce was like a swift swallow, quickly disappearing from the front of the seafood restaurant, disappearing in the curtain of rain.

“Then can you send someone? Mr. Cheney is drunk.”

“Miss Yale, could you help send Mr. Cheney to the Lanster Hotel? He has a dedicated suite there.”

“What?”

“Could you, Miss Yale? Thank you.”

“Hello.”

Jasmine Yale wanted to add a few more words, but Charles had already hung up the call.

She was a bit wary of Charles; this man was just like his boss, aloof and taciturn..

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