The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride

The servants stood frozen in place, struck dumb by the exchange, their minds wiped clean

of their chores. Seth’s reaction was as if Cicely’s words held him at bay, his body refusing

to move.

Cicely arched an eyebrow, retracting her hand to leisurely unscrew the lid of the ointment

jar with her slender, pale fingers.

“Honestly, now’s the time I’d prefer you not to be obedient,” she muttered under her

breath. “When you’re supposed to listen, you’re stubborn as a mule, and when you’re not,

you freeze up like a damn statue.”

She squeezed a dollop of the pale yellow ointment onto her fingertip, reaching out to dab

it on the cut at the corner of Seth’s mouth. The sting made him tilt his head slightly away.

Cicely looked down at him with an icy gaze, “What got into you earlier? Now you know

how to dodge?”

Her mood was far from calm, her anger hardly subsided from the slap she’d delivered

earlier. Even so, when she’d raised her hand to hit him, she’d consciously switched to her

left, ensuring the blow landed on his unblemished right cheek, sparing the injury on his

left.d2

“Cicely, I said I don’t need that stuff. Are you deaf, or just looking to defy me at every

turn?” Seth turned his face away, rejecting her care.

Cicely’s grip tightened, the pain sharper, but she persisted in applying the ointment.

Pinned down on the couch by her, Seth could only tilt his head up, his eyes narrow slits of

cold steel. “This is your last warning,” he growled. “Stop it and get off me, or forget ever

setting foot in the Diaz mansion again.”

Cicely paused, her gaze dropping to meet his, contemplative.

“What are you plotting now?” Seth narrowed his eyes further. Her thought process was

miles from ordinary; every time her eyes flickered, something off-kilter was bound to

follow.

Cicely lifted her hand, twirling the ointment between her fingers, tilting her head with a

half-smile, “I’m wondering, how did you threaten Danielle?”

Seth mulled it over for a second, reflecting on Danielle’s behavior that day, “Anyone’s

smarter than you when it comes to knowing what’s worth it.”

“That just makes me more curious.” Cicely freed one hand, casually pulling open Seth’s

pajama shirt.

His expression changed suddenly, his hand snapping out to catch hers. “Cicely!”

Her gaze swept over his torso, pausing briefly, “I know my name’s music to your ears, but

could you not chant it like a mantra every time you see me? And if you must, could you at

least try to sound a bit more tender?”

There were no serious injuries, just some faint bruises across his chest. But then she

frowned, looking down at Seth, “Could you let go? You’re hurting me.”

With the fine beads of sweat on her delicate nose, and her furrowed brow, it was clear she

wasn’t lying. His grip on her wrist slackened, and he glanced down to see the red marks

his fingers had left. He scowled.

The Ellis family had raised a porcelain doll that couldn’t take a touch. Taking advantage of

the moment, Cicely smeared a bit more ointment across his chest.

The warm, soft touch made Seth’s body tense imperceptibly. For years, no one had been

allowed such intimacy with him. Yet, as always, Cicely had claimed all the exceptions for

herself.

No matter what he did, she remained unaffected.

Once she finished, Cicely leaned in to blow on the spot she’d treated, intending to let the

medicine dry so she could pull his shirt back down. God only knew her ears were burning

like they were about to catch fire.

As she exhaled, Seth’s body jerked, and before she could register anything else, she was

yanked forward and toppled into the plush couch.

Seth stood up, his handsome face contorted with undisguised rage. “Cicely, you’re

sixteen, not six. Have you no shame?”

Though the couch was soft, Cicely was still dazed from the fall. Regaining her senses, she

leaned back, rubbing her wrist, and looked up with a lazy, sultry voice, “So, you’ve finally

figured out I’m not a little kid?” She paused, shifting comfortably, “Makes sense. Half my

classmates have had a string of boyfriends by now. How old-fashioned are you to wait until

eighteen to start dating?”

Seth was all impatience and irritation. “Get out.”

Cicely rose, countering, “I haven’t finished with the ointment.”

His eyes became menacing slits as he moved closer, stopping at a safe distance. “Is this

your idea of affection, always opposing me? There’s a limit to self-indulgence, Cicely. Not

everything you want can be yours just because you’re the Ellis family’s daughter. No man

likes a woman who never listens.”

“So Danielle’s the obedient type?” Cicely shot back.

“At least she knows what decisions to make when faced with a threat.”

Cicely snorted, “So what scared her into watching you suffer and not treating you?”

Seth clenched his fists, but said nothing. Cicely continued, a mocking smile on her lips,

“Let me guess—was it tutoring? If she didn’t comply, was it all over? No more help with

her studies?”

His face darkened. She had read him correctly.

“Looks like I hit the nail on the head,” she said, her laughter low, “So that’s the kind of

woman you men prefer? Someone who lets you walk around wounded just to stay by your

side?”

“Frankly, I’m glad Danielle felt threatened enough not to touch you. But I must say, I’m not

impressed with your taste in women.”

Cicely knew that with Seth in this state, he wasn’t going to sit still and let her treat his

wounds without a fuss, and frankly, she wasn’t in the mood to drag it out. Squeezing the

entire tube of ointment into her palm, she walked over to him, bent down, and

haphazardly slathered it onto his injured shins. Standing up, she looked him straight in the

eye with a frosty expression.

“I skipped a glass of warm milk and my bedtime just to come here and patch you up. And

don’t think I’ve forgotten about you promising to tutor Danielle, or how you’re gritting your

teeth through the pain just to keep that promise. That’s still hanging in the air between us.

“Most young guys wouldn’t want to be tied down by a girl so soon, and I get that. I’ll give

you a pass to mess up, but only to the extent of your current distance with Danielle. If

either of you steps over the line. Seth, no matter how much I fancy you, I won’t have you.

“As for men, I reckon I could snap my fingers and have my pick of the lot around here if I

wanted. But I’m choosy, you see. Not that I’ve ever been truly smitten or had a whirlwind

romance. If a decent man took a shine to me and put in the effort, who knows? I might fall

head over heels. After all, I’m only sixteen, everything’s a mystery, and I’m full of

curiosity. Don’t underestimate a woman’s desire to explore.”

“Really?” Seth’s brow furrowed, a cold glint in his eyes. “Don’t you think this threat sounds

a bit childish? Do you think you can intimidate me?”

Cicely’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “Do you think this is a threat?”

Seth’s face tightened.

Feeling a rare shift to a better mood, Cicely glanced at the coffee table and the bag of

medical supplies. “Make sure you use the ointment. It’s all purchased by me. Don’t go

using someone else’s. I’m tired and heading home to sleep. You should get some rest too.”

With that, she touched her sore wrist and headed for the door.

She didn’t expect Seth to follow her. Her car was parked right outside, a beacon in the

night.

The driver, seeing her emerge, promptly opened the door for her. Before getting into the

car, Cicely paused and turned to look at the two servants who had come to see her off, the

open door casting a warm light into the night.

Her mood had lifted since her arrival, but now her face carried a hint of confusion.

Unconsciously, she touched her leg where, just a moment before, she could have sworn

she felt something warm and solid brush against her. The sensation lingered, oddly

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“Miss?”

The driver, unaware of her thoughts, prompted softly. Cicely snapped out of her reverie,

climbed into the car without a word, and they drove off.

Once again, Seth felt outmaneuvered by Cicely. It seemed like he never held the upper

hand when it came to her.

Looking down at the sticky mess of ointment on his legs, he replayed her words, her

insistence on applying the ointment, every sentence, every frame looping in his mind –

even the slap she gave him upon entering.

He was the one who got hit.

He was the one who got scolded.

He was the one left speechless in the face of her rebuttals.

It was always him at a disadvantage.

And it was always her, from start to finish, exercising the unique, willful, and arrogant

traits of a lady of the Ellis family.

In the end, it seemed he was the one who benefited the most, the one who came out on

top. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Her final threat was an attempt to claw back

some control.

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