Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1343: Sylvan Cheney, Marry Me

Chapter 1343: Chapter 1343: Sylvan Cheney, Marry Me

Jasmine Yale didn’t know how she had angered him again.

This time, unlike just before, there was roughness in his movements.

He pinned her down on the seat and tormented her once more, leaving her too worn out to speak.

Jasmine Yale sobbed quietly.

Eventually, she turned into someone who cried while begging him to "stop."

"Sylvan Cheney, I don’t like mentioning other people at times like this," he warned her, commanding.

Jasmine Yale had no energy left to speak; she could only nod frantically.

Seeing her compliance, he stopped tormenting her.

"Jasmine Yale, if you make a mistake again, I will make you beg me like this."

"You bastard! You’re inhuman!"

"Hm? Don’t like it?"

"Sylvan Cheney, marry me." Jasmine Yale’s faint voice came through, suddenly uttering such a sentence, devoid of jest or humor.

She was serious.

Sylvan Cheney probably didn’t expect her to say this; even in the darkness, his tall figure paused.

Silence, another endless stretch of silence.

"You don’t want to marry anyone else anyway, so wouldn’t marrying me be good?" Jasmine Yale leaned weakly against him, breathing faintly, her body bearing a light fragrance.

Her heart beating faster and faster.

She didn’t know if this counted as a confession.

After having gone through life-and-death partings, she hadn’t thought she’d ever confess her feelings to him in this lifetime.

What’s there to confess to him, with his bad temper and poor character, unapproachable, scheming and grim, scolding her at times, never willing to share a word with her, like a thousand-year-old fox.

She didn’t know how these words had slipped out.

If he was still willing to marry, she would be willing to wed.

But, from any perspective, it seemed like she was getting the better deal.

She remembered, at eighteen, she had confessed to him this way too.

She had asked him if it would be good to marry her.

He said it wouldn’t be good.

Jasmine Yale laughed, her arms wrapped around his waist; she nuzzled against his chest, "Why don’t you speak? Do you think I’m taking advantage of you? If I really marry you, I wouldn’t even bring a dowry. Plus, I tend to make you angry, don’t I?"

"It seems like it’s not worth it for you to marry me when you put it that way. So, will you marry me or not? Either way, just say something."

"Jasmine Yale, are you drunk?"

His deep voice spread through the narrow space of the car.

Jasmine Yale was startled, suddenly laughing low, a bitter edge in that laughter, "I’ve been sober for a while, I’m not drunk."

"I’ll take you to the Cheney Residence, you should rest there tonight, tomorrow..."

"Sylvan Cheney, you dare to act but not take responsibility! You’re just a scoundrel!" Jasmine Yale interrupted him, somewhat hysterical, "Sylvan Cheney, you’re my first and only man. Even if you don’t marry me, I won’t marry anyone else—I have no face to marry anyone else!"

"Don’t be willful; what kind of era do you think this is?"

"I’m laying it out here, in the future, no matter whom you marry or what happens, I will not wed anyone."

"Jasmine Yale! Are you going to listen or not!"

"I won’t listen, why should I listen to you!"

"You!"

Jasmine Yale confronted him, which was unexpected for Sylvan Cheney.

He was almost spitting blood from anger.

Such a rebellious Jasmine Yale was rare.

Although they were fighting fiercely, Jasmine Yale’s arms were tightly wrapped around him, refusing to let go.

Both undressed, they warmed each other with their body heat, able to hear each other’s heartbeat.