Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption-Chapter 223: His new principle...

As they settled into the car, the soft hum of the engine revved, and with expertise, the driver pulled away from the club.

Jessica let out a quiet sigh of relief. Though she couldn’t bring herself to say it, she had been tense about the relaunch scheduled in just one week.

But this evening had been unexpectedly fruitful and amidst rest and play; they had secured a strong foothold for the relaunch— a strong leverage for the big return.

Yet, even with that success, she couldn’t help the ache in her chest, the gnawing question clawing at her mind;

Why had Davis, once a towering figure of ambition and control, allowed himself to fall so far? He had everything it took to rise again. He had the power, the mind, the reputation and the connection — why then had he relinquished his hold, allowing others to usurp what was rightfully his?

"You have great friends," she murmured, breaking the silence, her voice gentle.

No reply.

She frowned. That was unlike him. No matter how fatigued he might be, he always responded — with a smirk, a tease, or even a grunt. This silence was sharp, unnatural.

"Hubby?" she called softly, turning to look at him. The city’s golden lights filtered through the window, illuminating his profile.

His jaw was tight, clenched in barely restrained fury. His brows were drawn low, casting shadows across his closed eyes.

This expression of his screamed warning, setting alarm bells ringing in her head—he seemed angry. But why?

"Hubby?" she called tentatively, yet again no response.

Through the reflecting lights of the city, she gazed at his face.

Jessica’s mind raced with possibilities—is it because of her fall out with Tricia? Was he bothered by her exchanging contacts with Adah? Or had Luke said something during their conversation that unsettled him?

Yet, she dismissed them all. He wasn’t that petty. But her gut told her his anger stemmed from something that happened tonight—and she had a gut feeling she was involved.

She took a deep breath to calm her thoughts. With a contemplative frown, her gaze settled on Davis beside her, taking in every detail of his features.

His eyes were closed, head resting on the headrest, jaw twitching, fingers tightly clasped together. Jessica could practically feel him trying hard not to let his fury consume them both.

She blinked, realizing she hadn’t noticed how angry he really was. Slowly, she leaned closer, examining his pursed lips. A flicker of amusement danced within her—despite his fury, she still had the urge to kiss him.

His thick brows, well-sculpted and defined face, prominent jawline. She traced them with her eyes quietly. Her hand, acting on its own, reached out to trace the contours of his godlike face.

Lifting herself from her seat, she knelt, one elbow on the headrest, getting a clearer view of him. Slowly, she caught his lips in a soft, sensual kiss.

Davis remained quiet. He neither responded nor rejected it.

Jessica sighed. He was indeed furious. She had dared to kiss him only because it was night, the car lit only by the passing streetlights—yet she couldn’t forget the driver in front.

Seeing no response, she pulled away, intending to return to her seat when Davis’s left hand suddenly clasped her waist, and his right hand pulled her into his embrace.

"Still rustic in kissing?" he murmured his voice low, hoarse yet enticing to her— but no longer cold. A smirk tugged at his lips. "Seems I haven’t been a good teacher. Or maybe we haven’t had enough practicals."

Slowly, he nibbled her earlobe, his face nuzzling against her neck, sending electrifying waves through her. He trailed kisses across her skin. Her breath hitched as she felt his hand slowly and deliberately roam her body.

She wanted him to stop, but her body betrayed her. She gently nudged his shoulder, her limbs weakening, but his next words made her jolt upright—only for him to hold her in place.

"Pull over by the side," he instructed the driver, who nodded immediately.

The driver felt relief—finally released from the sight that had ignited flames beneath his skin. He wondered if this was a common scene for their personal driver and silently gave the driver five stars for self-control.

"Don’t pull over. It’s late. Drive back to the hotel," Jessica interjected, her breath ragged as she struggled for control. The fire Davis had lit still burned through her, but she had to tame it.

Though they had some influence here, this wasn’t entirely her turf, and she wouldn’t take risks at this hour. The hotel wasn’t hers to command, but pulling over was too dangerous.

Davis chuckled at her command, but didn’t stop his hands. The driver was torn between their instructions. Sensing the man’s hesitation, Davis said, "Do as she said."

The driver sighed. He couldn’t help pitying his poor, tormented life, then made a decision if he was going to be caught between these two again, better to make it quick. He pressed the accelerator harder. Like an arrow, the car surged forward to get to the hotel as quickly as possible.

"Why not let him pull over?" Davis asked, his tone with a teasing smile, adjusting her in his arms. His embrace wrapped around her protectively.

"It’s late." She murmured, still trying to catch her breath. "We can’t take any chances now. We don’t know what or who might be lurking around in the shadows." She responded weakly.

Already feeling the familiar exhaustion settle in again. She leaned into him slightly, after a pause, she looked up, her brows furrowed.

"Why were you angry?" she asked softly. No matter how she thought about it—it didn’t make sense.

At her question, Davis’s face darkened again. Yet he suppressed his fury. "Don’t accept anyone’s apology because of me," he muttered.

"Apology?" she mused aloud. "I haven’t accepted any apology," she added, blinking in confusion.

"Tricia," he said, the name bitter on his tongue. He had intended to settle the matter with her family himself, yet Jessica had quickly agreed to let the matter go.

Life had taught him one cruel lesson: Don’t be merciful to your enemies. But if you must, make them your slaves.

That principle was now Davis’s anchor. He had promised to be their undoing—their pain, their suffering, their god. He would dictate their downfall.

Jessica’s eyes softened with understanding. "You know I didn’t let her go scot-free. She got what she deserved—and that’s where it ends. There were more important things to focus on. I couldn’t let her derail everything we came here for." She explained.

She flexed her fingers slightly, feeling the sting from her wounded wrist. As far as she remembered, she hadn’t intended to hurt Tricia so badly.

But Tricia had pushed her to the edge, digging her manicured nails into her wrist and drawing blood-— That was when she had snapped. Even now, she still felt the sting from the wound. "Don’t worry, she will have her own injuries wrapped for the next two weeks."

Davis’s jaw tightened again, his heart aching as he looked at her. She’d come here for him—for his company, his health, his redemption and she was already bearing wounds for it.

Warmth spread through his chest, tinged with pain. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "In this life, you alone will be my wife," he said with emotion, almost in a whisper.

A soft smile crept onto Jessica’s lips. "Is that a promise?" she asked, her eyes glowing in the city lights that filtered through the window.

"Yes. A promise. And I swear it on my life," he answered without hesitation.

"Just stay safe... so you can love me," she whispered.

She didn’t know why, but she always felt like trouble was brewing somewhere. This peace they are enjoying now seemed like the calm before the storm.

Or maybe she was being too sensitive. Whatever it was—time would tell. All she could do was live for now. Tomorrow would take care of itself.

Davis noticed the change in her countenance and felt his instincts stir. She was all that mattered now. If reclaiming his position meant endangering her, then he would rather let it all go.

"How did you manage to get the card designed so quickly? And when?" he asked, changing the subject.

Jessica always had a way of surprising him.

She smiled. "I designed the card the day we arrived after meeting Alex in the hall. I sought Ethan’s help to gather their names and asked him to have it ready before midday. Then I brought it along with me."

Davis leaned in and kissed her deeply. "Thank you," he murmured.

That card had played a pivotal role. It got those men to talk. And he appreciated that she had made it happen.

Slowly, the car pulled up at the hotel. Ethan stood in the lobby, anxiously waiting. It was already past midnight, and they had been unreachable.

Seeing them, he sighed in relief. With Ethan’s help, Jessica didn’t need to bother about Davis.

She planted a kiss on his cheek and said, "Meet me upstairs. I’m drained."