Chapter 2303: Chapter 2303: Leaning on Him, Possessing Him
"You’re blushing." He laughed and patted her face, straightening up.
Jasmine Yale realized she was being teased, "Are you flirting with me?"
"Flirting with you, it’s only natural." Sylvan Cheney said, giving her a glance, his eyes full of gentle yet mischievous humor, "Fresh orange juice, don’t forget to drink it."
Jasmine Yale looked at the glass on the table, "Got it, you go ahead with your work, I’ll look over the data again."
"Alright, be a good girl, ask me if there’s anything you don’t understand."
"I know, I know."
Sylvan Cheney ruffled her hair, "Impatient little thing."
With that, he left the balcony and headed to the kitchen.
Jasmine Yale stared at his tall figure for a long time, slightly dazed, then lowered her head to look at her laptop screen, eyeing the dense data.
She occasionally sipped the orange juice, sometimes tapping the keyboard, helping him make revisions.
The sun filled the balcony entirely, it was a day with rich autumnal vibes and a pleasant breeze.
Jasmine Yale’s shadow fell on the ground, intertwined with the furniture.
Occasionally, Sylvan Cheney would come over, give pointers on her plans.
Working together was indeed more efficient than being apart; any issue could be addressed face-to-face.
Once things were communicated, Jasmine Yale could promptly make corrections.
Sylvan Cheney’s professional competence was much higher than she had imagined; his talent, vision, and insights were truly beyond those men who only knew how to drink and socialize.
She finally understood why he could turn Erin Janus’s branch company around in such a short time.
She could also understand why Erin Janus liked him.
This man had a unique charm, a charisma not cultivated overnight, but one that exudes from within—confidence, composure, elegance.
Sylvan Cheney chatted with her about work matters again.
Jasmine Yale pointed at a string of French in the document, "Why is there French? I can’t understand it."
"Convince me, and I’ll help you translate." Sylvan Cheney raised an eyebrow, squinting at her.
"Isn’t that childish? You’re not a three-year-old kid, no convincing."
"Then I won’t tell you."
Jasmine Yale: "..."
Childish guy.
Sylvan Cheney during work and after work seemed like different people.
"If you don’t tell me, I won’t eat lunch." Jasmine Yale threatened him.
Sure enough, the man’s eyes sparkled with a deep light, he curled his lips, "Alright, you win."
Jasmine Yale smiled at him.
Sylvan Cheney pointed at the French on the screen, "Listen carefully, this passage means ’The fast-paced sense of fashion and the heavy retro sense are not suitable for the children’s world,’ got it?"
"Oh." Jasmine Yale nodded, half understanding.
"You don’t need to understand this; this involves professional design extensions, not something you should be concerned with." Sylvan Cheney said, "Alright, take a break, want to watch some TV?"
"Will you watch with me?"
"Sure."
Jasmine Yale went to the sofa in the living room and sat with Sylvan Cheney side by side.
She tuned into a variety show she liked, watching and eating dried fruits.
When something funny happened, she would giggle; Sylvan Cheney, on the other hand, would give her a disdainful glance, puzzled by how low her humor threshold was.
When tired, she would rest her head on Sylvan Cheney’s broad shoulder.
In the past at the Cheney Residence, he would deliberately keep his distance from her, not getting too close, as he liked to keep "men and women separate" in his words.
Now, she could finally lean on him without restraint, occupy him.
He belonged to her alone.
