Butler Santana came in and brought her a bowl of fragrant osmanthus wine rice balls.
"Miss Yale, have a little to warm yourself up. I made a bowl for Mr. Cheney as well."
"Thank you, Butler Santana."
Jasmine Yale put down the hairdryer and walked outside.
The rice balls were very fragrant, topped with a thin layer of yellow osmanthus, the rich aroma of the wine mingling with the delicate scent of the flowers.
The rice balls, a specialty of the Jiangnan region, were something she didn't expect Butler Santana would know how to make.
Jasmine loved them, and she knew Sylvan did too.
After Butler Santana delivered them, he left, and Jasmine walked over to try a bite. It was still the flavor she loved.
She sat on Sylvan's bed, the chill already dispelled, her whole body warm.
The night deepened, and she turned off the light, wrapping herself in his blankets. His scent lingered on the covers and pillow, enveloping her nose, inescapable.
