The room was dimly lit, the faint glow from the bedside lamp casting warm shadows on the walls. Davis and Jessica cuddled in each other’s embrace as they savoured every inch of each other’s body.
By the time he reluctantly let her go, Jessica had no strength left. Her limbs felt like jelly, her breathing soft and even as she drifted into sleep without realizing it.
Davis, however, didn’t sleep. Instead, he took his time, lying on his side and observing the woman beside him.
Jessica’s face was relaxed in slumber, her cheeks flushed, her lips rosy and swollen from his kiss yet inviting.
He had memorized every curve, every detail of her face and might be able to draw it with his eyes shut, but somehow, with each passing day, she became even more captivating.
Her beauty wasn’t just physical; it shone from within, glowing brighter the more time he spent with her.
He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.
His heart ached deeply as he stared at her. "Will you ever rest and not worry about my affairs?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, yet filled with emotion.
Though his tone was soft, his mind was filled with mixed emotions. He was grateful—grateful beyond words that she came into his life at his lowest moment, had existed in his life and had cared deeply for him.
It was as though God wanted to compensate him for everything he had gone through—betrayals, disappointment and even isolation. But at the same time, guilt gnawed at him.
She had endured too much on her young shoulders. Girls her age were still figuring out their path, attending university lectures, partying, or scrolling endlessly through social media, but Jessica had already shouldered so much for him.
Even now, after helping him recover from his injuries, she still joined hands with him to rebuild and reclaim what he had lost.
Even with that, she is still worried, still fought his battles. Still put his needs first. It frustrated him, not because of what she did, but because he didn’t want her to carry this much or suffer emotionally.
He rubbed his brow, the frustration and helplessness evident on his face. His eyes briefly moved to the table where she had been working earlier before he had pulled her into his arms.
Papers lay scattered, files open, and her designs half-drafted. She had been so focused, determined. And yet, she allowed herself to be distracted, concerned about some malicious gossip that wasn’t even true.
Sighing, Davis carefully pulled off the duvet covering them and quietly got up. He made his way to the bathroom, filled a bowl with warm water, and returned.
He sat beside her and, with gentle hands carefulness, began wiping the sweat from her body. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if every touch was a silent vow.
Recalling how shy she could get if she was awake—her cheeks always turned a lovely shade of red, and she would often cover her face or grumble his name in frustration whenever he teased her. The memory made him smile softly.
But even caring for her , cleaning her after their intimacy, felt like a task he wanted to perfect. He didn’t rush it. He saw it as his way of returning the affection she always poured into him.
When he was done, he placed the bowl aside and returned to the bathroom to take a cold shower himself, trying to cool down both his body and his racing thoughts.
After drying off, he wrapped himself in a robe and walked over to the table. Sitting down, he looked through the documents and files she had been working on.
One after another, he went through them, understanding her thought process as well as business decision process, he made decisions where needed, left comments and notes, corrected some figures, and offered suggestions. Then he got to the final file—the design draft.
Davis chuckled quietly. "Seems I can’t escape this," he murmured, fondly recalling the times he had sat beside her while she worked on designs, pretending not to be interested, though his eyes had always followed her hand, her strokes, her choices. He sighed.
He picked up a pencil and, with steady hands, completed the unfinished design.
Then, inspired by a sudden thought, he began drawing a new one from scratch. His expression was calm and focused, every line drawn with so much emotion, attention and gentleness.
When he was satisfied, he scrawled a small note beside it: "My thanks." Though, a brief word yet it couldn’t actually express how he felt. He stared at the sketch for a while and glanced at the sleeping lady, a smile tugging at his lips.
By the time Davis finally closed the last folder, the first light of morning had started to creep through the curtains. He glanced over at Jessica, still sound asleep, and smiled tiredly.
He knew she would scold him for staying up so late if she finds out he was awake all through the night and he wouldn’t want that. He needed to return to sleep before she wakes up.
But not without carrying out this task. He picked up his phone and typed a message to Ethan: "Since Desmond loves rumors, keep him trending in the headlines for one month."
Almost immediately, his phone rang. It was Ethan.
"Sir, this might affect the company more since it is already taking on hits after hits," Ethan said cautiously.
Davis’s voice was cold and firm. "Why bother about the company? Is the company more important than my wife? He made my wife worry and overthink. So from now on, no peace of mind for him either."
"Understood," Ethan replied after a brief pause.
Davis nodded "That’s more like it, I’ll send the necessary information to your phone later. So that you’ll know what to work on."
Davis ended the call without another word and closed his eyes with contentment, finally allowing himself some sleep.
As the call ended, Ethan couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for Desmond Allen. It might have been better for him not to do things that will affect Jessica. Otherwise, h has a death wish.