Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1347: Jasmine Yale, Don’t Push Your Luck

Chapter 1347: Chapter 1347: Jasmine Yale, Don’t Push Your Luck

The air, suddenly silent.

Jasmine Yale’s gaze carried a trace of stubbornness, just like before.

"If you say a single ’no,’ I will never bother you again. I’ve said it, I have my pride too. I will leave immediately tomorrow, and never see you again." Jasmine calmed down, as if thinking it all through on the way, "I was wrong first about tonight, I’m sorry."

With her apology, Sylvan Cheney inexplicably became irritated.

He stared into her eyes, and in the meeting of their gazes, sparks flew.

The atmosphere in the car was already tense, and now it became even more oppressive.

"Don’t push your luck, Jasmine Yale."

Saying that, Sylvan Cheney pushed the door open and stepped out of the car with long strides.

Outside, a cold wind blew.

Sylvan walked toward the living room.

Butler Santana hadn’t gone to bed yet, she was startled to see Mr. Cheney return, but then took his overcoat from him.

"Mr. Cheney, I thought you wouldn’t be coming back." Butler Santana said, "Mr. Mcintosh mentioned you insisted on being discharged from the hospital."

"I’m okay."

Sylvan made his way straight to his bedroom.

After a crazy night with Jasmine Yale, he didn’t feel good either, covered in sweat.

Entering the bedroom, Sylvan grabbed some clothes and went straight to the bathroom to take a shower.

He showered for quite some time, but no matter what, he couldn’t wash off the scent of Jasmine Yale from his body.

That familiar scent had lingered around him for twelve years.

Until tonight, it was the most intense, merging into one.

He closed his eyes, letting the hot water from the showerhead wash over his head, soon the bathroom was filled with a thick mist.

Downstairs, Butler Santana was preparing late-night snacks and medicine for him.

She smelled a woman’s scent on Mr. Cheney, did he go to see some woman tonight? And what about Miss Yale? Where’s Miss Yale?

Butler Santana was puzzled, but dared not to ask further, so she went to the kitchen to continue preparing the snack.

Jasmine Yale’s luggage was still at the Cheney Residence, so by all accounts, Miss Yale should come over.

But at this point, would she still come?

Butler Santana prepared a bowl of light sweet fermented rice balls, sprinkling some fragrant sweet osmanthus on top.

Mr. Cheney’s health wasn’t yet good, insisting on being discharged and refusing to take his medicine, Butler Santana felt quite helpless.

I’ve never seen anyone get better from an illness without taking medicine.

Butler Santana was genuinely happy when Miss Yale came back today, but, for some reason, she hadn’t seen Miss Yale at all throughout the day.

She wondered if she should ask.

Not sure how much time had passed, Sylvan finished showering and pushed the bathroom door open.

He dried his head with a towel; now, he had a touch more sexiness and wildness about him.

His figure appeared tall and independent in a black bathrobe, a section of wheat-colored skin exposed at the collar, and an air of cold indifference surrounded him.

The bedroom was empty.

Sylvan Cheney frowned and went downstairs.

"Mr. Cheney, I made some late-night snacks." Butler Santana hurried to greet him.

"Where is she?"

"She? Who?" Butler Santana looked confused.

Sylvan Cheney’s thin lips pursed as he strode towards the exterior of the living room.

Returning to the garage.

The lights were on in the garage; the Rolls Royce’s inside light was out.

A small figure was leaning against the passenger seat cushion, curled up into a ball, her shadow reflected on the car window.

Not quite able to identify his feeling, Sylvan Cheney’s chest felt as if it had been scratched.

He walked over with his long legs and yanked the passenger door open!

Indeed, Jasmine Yale had fallen asleep, curled up as if very cold, not moving, hugging her knees.

Her big eyes closed, and long eyelashes cast shallow shadows beneath.