The Enticing CEO's Chosen Bride novel Chapter 2064

At noon.

A simple and luxurious bedroom.

A cascade of messy hair sprawled across the slate-gray duvet and pillows, while flawless skin played peek-a-bo and sneak beneath them. Even with her eyes sealed shut, the serene expression etched on her face rightfully belonged to an exquisite woman.

The bright white blinding light outside was blocked out by the curtains for the most part, the humidifier next to the bed was silently spitting out a fine mist, and the temperature and humidity in the room were maintained at a balanced level.

After a while, the woman in bed slowly turned over. Her pale eyelids, translucent enough to reveal delicate veins, quivered, and her slender arms, speckled with faint marks, stretched out from under the duvet.

She flexed her arms gently as her smooth brow furrowed slightly, and after a long moment, she reluctantly opened her eyes. Her eyes gradually brightened, instantly illuminating her beautiful resting face.d2

Despite the slight puffiness, her eyes were still seductive and lazy, radiating a beauty that was beyond words.

Her gaze lazily swept the room, landed on the slightly disheveled bed, and seemed to recall something. Her eyes flinched as if stung, closed once more, and she buried her head into the soft pillow for a moment before slowly sitting up and heading to the bathroom.

Downstairs, the decor was also elegantly simple, with every detail thoughtfully designed. The house staff gathered, idly dusting corners already devoid of any dust and chit-chatting in hushed tones.

"Work here is so laid back. Aside from cleaning, it's just cooking now and then. And the pay's great. I'm so lucky to have landed this job."

"Lucky? Isn't it the lady upstairs who's lucky? A pampered mistress living like royalty."

"We're a team of five or six, mostly waiting on her. I bet even Mr. Diaz's movie star girlfriend doesn't get this treatment."

"You don't know the half of it. Mr. Diaz is not likely to treat his girlfriend like this. I was on night duty last night, nearly scared to death. I've never seen Mr. Diaz look so terrifying. Ms. Cicely was almost dragged in."

"What happened?"

"Not sure, but it was even scarier upstairs. I could hear Ms. Cicely screaming from down here."

"You think Mr. Diaz forced himself on Ms. Cicely?"

"Why would he need to? Keeping her for that purpose is normal, isn't it?"

"Do you think they're normal? Them being normal would be the real shock."

"True that."

Just then, another servant tiptoed down from upstairs and whispered urgently, "Stop gossiping, I heard movement. She must be awake. Let's get lunch ready."

The servants straightened up and scattered quickly.

Indeed, half an hour later, Cicely descended the stairs in a pale pink vintage sundress with lace sleeves that tapered gently at the wrists. The dress's ruffled hem added a touch of demure elegance.

She was luminous, her skin almost glowing. Her hair fell carelessly over her shoulders, her figure slender and graceful, her eyes half-lidded with languor, as if taking an extra step would be an unforgivable luxury in the eyes of onlookers.

A servant hurried over with a glass of warm water, saying respectfully, "Ms. Cicely, lunch will be ready shortly."

"I see," she replied indifferently, taking the glass and moving to the sofa.

After a few sips, she casually picked up a magazine from the coffee table. A quick glance at the casually opened inside page met a photo of Seth's interview.

It was a corporate interview, about Diaz International, so it was normal to have Seth.

The man in the photo wore a faint smile that never quite reached his eyes. Instead, those gazes were deep pools of ice, radiating a formidable, indescribable pressure, even from the page. Dressed in a black suit, with even his shirt a dark hue, he seemed all the more brooding and austere.

He had matured since three years ago but had also become colder and more detached.

Remembering how furiously he had dragged her from No. 8 Mansion the previous night, as if he wanted her dead, her expression chilled, and she tossed the magazine back onto the coffee table.

"Ms. Cicely, lunch is ready."

The staff attended to her efficiently.

At the end of the meal, there was still some food left in the bowl, so she took out her cell phone and turned it on as she brought each bite to her mouth.

A barrage of messages and missed call notifications popped up, refusing to cease.

There were a few from others, but most were from Joel, an old classmate she had recently reconnected with and gotten along with quite well. He had just returned from abroad, the years polishing him into a more refined and confident gentleman. The cheerful, sunny boy from back then now carried himself with poise and sophistication.

It wasn't hard to get in touch with her. Joel had sent a car full of coffee and cakes to the set personally.

Crysti had a fight scene to shoot the next afternoon, and most of the upcoming scenes were with Danielle.

Danielle, with numerous commitments and the well-known backing of Seth, had a sporadic presence on set. Without her, Crysti couldn't proceed, so after her scenes for the day were done, the director told her to rest.

The timing was perfect for her to meet Joel that evening.

Cicely was still known as "Diamond" at No. 8 Mansion, and now she was surrounded by serious power players who were so generous that they introduced their guests to No. 8 Mansion at gatherings, and when they did, they had to open bottles of wine.

The owner was shrewd, and Cicely, ever the opportunist, worked solely on commission with no set salary – a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Now Joel was in her sights as a potential big spender. They were going to meet anyways, and No. 8 Mansion was indeed a fine choice.

Knowing Cicely earned her commission there, Joel didn't hesitate to store ten bottles of Louis.

"Thanks for the support," Cicely accepted his generosity with a toast.

"If you need anything, just let me know."

Cicely smiled and glanced around, "This is a fine place to unwind, fitting for people of your stature. You should bring your friends here more often."

Joel watched her for a long moment, "You're just the same as before."

Cicely downed her drink, gazing at the empty crystal glass reflecting beautiful hues, her brows curved elegantly. "How is that even possible?"

"You've always been so open, never one to hide your true intentions. It's pretty clear what you're after."

"How else do you expect me to disguise my purpose when I come up beside you as a liquor seller?"

Joel chuckled, "The stuff on the flash drive has been recovered and I have handed over to Seth."

Cicely poured herself another glass of wine, murmured an indifferent "I see," and remained expressionless.

Joel nodded, deciding not to bring up Cicely's past anymore. Instead, he shifted the conversation to himself.

Thirty minutes had elapsed since Cicely stepped foot into the No. 8 Mansion when Seth's call finally came through.