Fated love: the unwanted bride-Chapter 940 - Will You Have My Child

Chapter 940: Chapter 940: Will You Have My Child?

Chapter 940: Chapter 940: Will You Have My Child?

Jasmine Yale’s brows furrowed as she struggled to free one hand to grasp his tie.

With that tug, Sylvan Cheney’s expression changed, and he looked at her coldly.

Jasmine didn’t use much force, of course. He gazed at her indifferently, and she glared back at him.

“Let go…” he demanded unhappily, his eyes becoming stern.

“I’ll let go if you get up, it’s fair. If you refuse to get up, I’ll strangle you to death.”

Sylvan Cheney narrowed his eyes, his lips curving in a slight smirk. Even though he was drunk, he understood what she was saying.

She was going to strangle him.

Yes, strangle him.

Usually, Jasmine was quite afraid of him, but once he got drunk, her fear would diminish.

“Jasmine Yale…” he called her name, his eyes glinting with an intoxicated light and an enigmatic meaning, his deep pupils tightening slightly.

“What?” she frowned.

“You are happy and secure, but what about me…”

Jasmine didn’t understand. What was he talking about?

“Me… me…” he said helplessly and weakly, a faint smile on his lips, his warm breath spraying onto her fair face.

He bowed his head, leaning close to her, close enough to see his own reflection in her pupils.

He didn’t do anything too outrageous to her, just looked at her, his face showing little emotion.

Jasmine was pinned down in the seat, her chest rising and falling unsteadily.

Her heart raced on.

Her clothes were somewhat disheveled, and the hem of her skirt had been pulled up.

Sylvan Cheney’s tall frame was pressing down on her, motionless, just pressing against her.

Four words he had said suddenly flashed through Jasmine’s mind…

Had he seen her Weibo post?

Why such a big reaction from him.

Jasmine didn’t quite understand.

Her hand was still clutching his tie, fearful that he would do something rash.

“Mr. Cheney… can you get up?” she negotiated with him in a bargaining tone.

She knew that a drunken Sylvan Cheney was much less temperamental and would be almost at her mercy if he was very, very drunk.

And tonight, he was indeed drunk.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so polite to her.

After a long time apart, he still looked the same, but a bit more tired around the brows, and there were some blue stubbles on his chin.

Moonlight streamed in, and she squinted at him.

Her hand was pulling on his tie, while one of his hands rested over hers.

“Mr. Cheney, can you hear me? Get up, we can talk this through, everything is negotiable.”

“Negotiable… So, tell me, are you going to UT or not, hmm?”

“Not going, not going, I’m not going,” Jasmine coaxed him.

Arguing with a drunk man was not worthwhile.

“Then will you bear me children?” Sylvan Cheney asked with persistence and seriousness, asking earnestly.

Jasmine’s eyes widened in disbelief at him.

A drunk man really would say anything—how much had he drunk tonight??

“Why aren’t you speaking? Isn’t everything negotiable?” Sylvan Cheney was dissatisfied, very dissatisfied.

“I’ll have them,” she swallowed hard, continuing to placate him.

“When?” he was insistent, probing to the root.

“Whenever there’s time.”

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“When will there be time?”

“In a year,” Jasmine replied offhandedly.

“How many shall we have?”

“However many you want.”

“Oh.” Sylvan Cheney appeared quite pleased, narrowed his eyes, then suddenly leaned down to press a kiss upon her lips, rolling and pressing with force.

This action wasn’t too amorous; it seemed more like an expression of his happiness.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a girl first?” he suggested.