Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1395 Can’t You Just Go Die?

Chapter 1395: Chapter 1395 Can’t You Just Go Die?

Jesse Rowan was stunned for a moment.

He didn’t expect to be slapped by Joan Harry again.

This was the second time.

Jesse Rowan was really upset.

He touched his face, looking quite wronged: "It kind of hurts."

Although he said this, his actions were not at all relaxed.

Mr. Rowan disdains getting angry with women, especially beautiful women.

A slap, no big deal.

"Let me out of the car," Joan Harry looked at him coldly.

"The driver’s car isn’t something you can just get out of whenever you want," Jesse Rowan restrained her with one hand, while touching his face with the other; it actually did hurt a bit.

"Jesse Rowan, can’t a scumbag like you just go die?"

"Craving death?" Mr. Rowan laughed benignly.

"..." Joan Harry was not good at dealing with such men, whether during her school days or at work, she had never encountered such people.

Her circle was pure and simple.

She didn’t hit people, nor did she curse. Even when bullied, she couldn’t utter a single swear word.

She didn’t know how her life could suddenly become so gloomy, just like a sudden rainstorm.

She stopped struggling, looking indifferently at Jesse Rowan: "Where are you taking me."

"To my villa, didn’t we agree on this?" Jesse Rowan’s eyes were quite large, making him look like a minor, "I just returned to Landon from abroad, the newly bought villa looks really nice! If you like it, I’ll give it to you."

Mr. Rowan has always been generous to women.

The women who have been with him all received gifts.

From bags and jewelry to houses and cars, each received something big or small.

He has always been good to women.

That’s also why none of the numerous women he’d slept with ever came to trouble him.

Amicable as they part.

"Jesse Rowan, aren’t you afraid I’ll tell my dad if you don’t let me go?" Joan Harry clenched her teeth.

"Not really afraid," Jesse Rowan smiled.

Joan Harry didn’t know how to deal with such a scumbag.

She remained silent, her eyes void of emotions like the dark, boundless sky before a violent storm.

Her face looked stern; she turned her head and tiredly closed her eyes.

Seeing her stop struggling, Jesse Rowan hugged her into his arms.

"What perfume are you using? I can’t really tell," he sniffed her hair.

Having dealt with many women, he was knowledgeable about perfumes, handbags, and high heels.

Often he could pinpoint a perfume’s top, middle, and base notes without error.

But he couldn’t place the fragrance on Joan Harry.

Joan Harry didn’t speak.

"Tell me, hmm?" Jesse Rowan coaxed patiently.

Joan Harry had no desire to speak with him; she gritted her teeth, silent, her gaze dull and lifeless.

Her hairpin fell, and her hair came loose.

Jesse earned the title of Little Tyrant for a reason; he didn’t care whether someone was close to him or not, he acted intimately with anyone.

"Joan, tell me..."

"Joan..."

"So annoying." Joan Harry covered her ears, her eyebrows tightly furrowed.

Jesse Rowan was relentless, scratching her ticklish spot and then nibiting her earlobe.

"Jesse Rowan, get lost!" Joan Harry didn’t know how to vent her anger.

She had slapped and scolded.

But Jesse Rowan had thick skin.

Perhaps it was because of his age, Jesse Rowan was like a small boy who hadn’t grown up, extremely patient.

He didn’t talk back when hit, nor did he respond when cursed at.