Flash marriage Billionaire Contract Wife

Chapter 1

With a loud bang, the door to the presidential suite slammed shut, and Jessica was shoved inside, falling hard onto the plush carpeted floor.

Her body reeked of alcohol. Disoriented, she pushed herself up, eyes narrowing at the faint sound of running water. The shower. She stumbled forward, her legs barely cooperating, and made her way to the bathroom.

The door creaked open under her weight. Steam billowed out, wrapping her like a thick blanket. Inside, a tall, muscular man stood under the rainfall shower, droplets sliding down his honey-colored skin.

Jessica blinked, trying to steady herself. Her vision danced, but the figure before her was solid and striking. She wavered again-then fell forward, right into him.

She slums on his bare chest,her hot breath mixed the sensation from the hot steam tickling the man. He feels his blood run cold. She raises her head staggering backwards

"Hey-" the man snapped, catching her by the shoulders.

Jessica quickly regained her footing, eyes fierce despite the haze. Gripping his wrist with surprising force, she pushed him back until his bare back met the marble wall.

What are you doing here,These my suite" Jessica grumbles.

His brows furrowed, wondering if a lunatic escaped the pyshcatric hospital but she was too beautiful to be one.

"How did you get in here, woman?" he asked coldly. His voice, deep and laced with irritation, cut through the thick steam.

"Shut the hell up," she hissed. "Don't think I can't overpower you. I'll really slam you."

The air stilled.

He stared at her, stunned, the heat of the room clashing with the frost in his eyes. Then, with a slight twitch of his lips, he moved.

Effortlessly, the man scooped her into his arms in a princess carry and walked out of the bathroom. He set her down gently on the massive bed, his tone low and curious.

"Woman... You're the first who's dared to barge into my space and threaten me."

His fingers trailed lightly across her arm, tracing patterns with a sensual edge. Jessica's breath hitched. Still tipsy, her mind fogged with adrenaline and confusion, she responded before she could think.

She parted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him closer with reckless abandon.

Spencer froze for a beat.

No disgust. No hesitation.

Instead, a spark lit in his eyes-dangerous and amused. A wicked smile curled on his lips.

"Well, well..." he murmured. His lips brushed her neck, grazing it with maddening slowness as the towel around his waist dropped silently to the floor. "Little vixen... let's have some fun."

His breath tickled her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Her heart pounded.

Without warning, he captured her lips in a searing kiss. It wasn't gentle. It was dominant. His thin lips pressed against hers, prying open her mouth with a practiced tongue that tasted like mint and danger.

Jessica moaned faintly, her arms snaking around his neck.

Her fingers running through his bare broad shoulders,raking her nails on his smooth back.

Pressing a French kiss on his neck,at the same time licking him there.

He responded instantly. His hands began to move-steadily, deliberately-undressing her piece by piece, even as she squirmed beneath him. Her skin burned with every brush of his fingers.

"You're really a little vixen," Spencer murmured teasingly, his voice a growl against her ear.

He could feel the heat radiating from her intoxicated body, threatening to consume him whole.

Suddenly, Jessica pushed against him and sat up, straddling him. Her lips curled into a sly smile.

"What about now?" she whispered seductively, grinding against him.

Spencer's breath hitched. His hands gripped her waist, and they moved together in an unspoken rhythm. The air thickened, the tension mounting with every passing second.

They didn't stop. Not even as the night deepened, not even when the stars gave way to moonlight filtering through the suite's windows.

Jessica tried to close her eyes, exhausted from the whirlwind of passion and emotion. Her body ached in the most delicious way, and all she wanted was to drift into sleep.

But his voice-low, husky, and laced with desire-broke through the silence.

"No," Spencer murmured, his lips brushing her ear. "You can't sleep yet... not when you've set me on fire like this. You need to put it out first."

Her breath hitched.

"Spencer..." she whispered, her tone a mix of fatigue and helpless anticipation.

But he didn't wait for permission.

His hands found her again, exploring, igniting, teasing. She moaned softly, her fingers clutching the sheets as he drew new waves of pleasure from her already trembling body.

She tried to beg-halfhearted, breathless.

"P-Please... stop..."

But her voice lacked conviction, lost in the dizzying rhythm of his touch. He silenced her pleas with kisses that melted her resistance. Again and again, he pushed her to the edge, refusing to stop, refusing to let her go.

Pleasure.

Pleasure.

More pleasure.

Until finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, he collapsed on top of her, his skin damp, his heartbeat wild against hers.

He gasped for air, chest rising and falling as he buried his face into the crook of her neck.

Jessica lay there beneath him-wrecked, breathless, and unable to tell where his fire ended and hers began.

It wasn't until much later, when her energy gave out, that Jessica slumped against Spencer's chest, finally drifting off to sleep-completely unaware that this one reckless night would change her life forever.

:

Chapter 2

Morning.

Jessica Cooper's eyes flustered open as sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains. Her temples throbbed, and the first thing she registered was a dull, insistent ache spreading across her body-sharp, unfamiliar soreness that made her wince when she tried to sit up.

She blinked slowly, her vision adjusting to the light.

Her gaze dropped.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She was... completely bare. Not even her underwear clung to her anymore.

Panic surged through her chest.

Yanking the soft sheets to cover herself, she sat up fully, trembling hands fisting the fabric tightly. Her gaze darted around the room. The large king-sized bed was a disheveled mess, and on the pristine white sheets, a vivid red stain screamed the truth she was trying so hard not to face. Clothes-hers and a man's-were strewn across the floor like careless afterthoughts.

Jessica's breathing quickened. She shook her head, her thoughts spiraling.

What the hell happened?

She had only attended last night's lavish banquet because her father insisted she make an appearance-"a good daughter must keep family ties strong."

But this... this was never supposed to happen.

How did I end up like this?

A cold sweat broke out on her back. Her mind raced to remember, but all she could see were flashes-wine, music, Chelsea's laughter, dizziness-and then, blackout.

Before she could process further, she froze.

Someone was in the room.

Sitting just across from the bed, facing the window, was a man with a sculpted back and damp hair, clearly fresh from a shower. He wasn't even startled by her sudden movement. Instead, his voice rang out in a tone so casual it burned.

"I hope that's enough for your service."

Jessica's eyes widened. Her face flushed in humiliation.

He thought... I was a prostitute?

Fury and disbelief shot through her veins like fire. Biting down her pride, she clutched the bedspread closer to her chest and scrambled to the edge of the bed, her legs nearly tangling in the sheets as she bent down to grab her crumpled dress from the floor.

He didn't look back. He didn't explain. Just sat there, as though this encounter meant nothing.

Without sparing him another glance, Jessica rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Inside, she leaned against the sink, gripping it tightly. The cold marble surface grounded her, if only barely. Her eyes stung as tears threatened to fall, but she clenched her jaw.

Not now. Don't cry now.

A few minutes passed.

When she stepped back out, dressed but hollow, the man was gone.

The silence in the room felt deafening.

Jessica's legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed onto the floor, the bedspread still wrapped around her shoulders like a shield. All the emotions she had held in until that point crashed into her at once.

How could this have happened?

And then... Chelsea.

Her best friend. Her only friend.

She had been with her last night. She had to know something.

Jessica's eyes flicked toward the nightstand. Her phone.

She lunged for it, snatching it with trembling fingers and unlocking the screen. Her thumb hovered for a moment before she tapped on Chelsea's contact.

It rang once.

"Where are you?" Chelsea's voice rang through.

Jessica inhaled sharply. Her voice cracked. "You know where I am, right?"

There was a pause. Then came Chelsea's sharp, defensive tone.

"Are you trying to blame me? You were so drunk last night, Jess, you couldn't even tell east from west. I had no choice but to bring you to a suite that was specially prepared for you."

Specially prepared?

Jessica's lips parted in disbelief. Her grip on the phone tightened.

"You did all this because of Michael..." she whispered, then her voice rose with rage. "You could've just taken him if you wanted him that badly! You didn't have to set me up like this!"

On the other end of the call, Chelsea smirked. Jessica could hear it in her voice.

"Oh, gosh, shut up. Do you have any idea how much I hate that perfect little face of yours?" Chelsea snapped shamelessly. "If you can have Michael, why can't I?"

Jessica's chest burned.

Chelsea's words stabbed deeper with every syllable.

"And by the way..." Chelsea added casually, "I'm not the only one who set you up. So get that into your stupid brain."

Jessica's jaw clenched. She was shaking now-hurt, rage, betrayal. All at once.

"You I'll pay for this," she seethed, eyes hard. "Mark my words."

On the other end, Chelsea let out a mocking laugh. "Oh my gosh, I'm so scared."

Her tone shifted again, and this time it was deliberately cruel. "Michael and I are coming to 0 pin on someone having an affair."

Jessica's eyes widened in realization.

Her body snapped upright just as her phone dropped from her hand.

Seconds later-Bang!

The suite door flew open with force.

"Where's that bitch? Jessica!" Michael's voice echoed through the luxurious room.

Chelsea strutted in behind him, feigning a look of disgust. "Oh my gosh, Jessica-look at you."

Jessica was already seated calmly on the sofa in the living room, posture elegant, face blank. She had moved the moment she heard Michael's voice on the phone. Rearranged herself. Composed herself.

She had expected this ambush.

But there was no man to be found. No messy sheets. No evidence of their dirty fantasy catching her in the act. The room had reset-tidy, composed, quiet.

Michael's eyes darted around, his jaw clenched. He looked... disappointed.

"Done searching, scoundrels?" Jessica asked coolly, her voice cutting through the room like ice.

Chelsea's eyes narrowed.

Jessica leaned back slightly, her tone laced with venomous calm.

"I said-done searching?"

Michael's face twisted with frustration. "So you think you can just hide the man, right?!"

Jessica arched a brow, tilting her head. "Man? Hmm... How do you know there was a man here, Michael?"

Her words silenced the room for a beat. She watched him with a cold, curious stare-like she was seeing a stranger.

Chelsea fidgeted. "Michael, let's leave. I can't stay here any longer. If not... I might contract a disease or something."

Jessica let out a humorless chuckle.

"Oh, Chelsea. Always so graceful."

Michael gave Jessica one last look. "I need an explanation for this."

Jessica's expression didn't change. She simply watched them walk out.

As the door slammed behind them, Jessica leaned back into the sofa, her expression unreadable.

"Explanation?" she whispered under her breath.

Her eyes hardened.

Don't worry. I have lots for you.

Chapter 3

Stepping out of the hotel, Jessica Cooper wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, exhaling a long puff of white mist into the cold morning air. The chill pierced through her coat, but it couldn't match the icy weight pressing against her heart.

It seemed like she was riding a streak of bad luck.

Even drinking a glass of warm water lately felt like it got stuck in her teeth-nothing went down smoothly anymore. She had only attended that banquet because her father had pressured her. Yet instead of making useful connections or playing the role of the dutiful daughter, her reputation had been tarnished.

Humiliated.

Used.

Attending a banquet and running into a bastard... who could be more unfortunate than me?

A sharp gust of wind slammed against her cheek, forcing her to shrink deeper into her scarf. It was unbearably cold today, but not colder than the painful loss of her first time. That night haunted her like a nightmare-unwelcome and persistent.

Still, she reminded herself firmly: I'm 24. I'm an adult.

She would treat that night as nothing more than a ridiculous mistake, a slip-up born from intoxication and betrayal. Nothing more. From now on, she would focus on work and erase both that man and that night from her memory.

Instinctively, she looked up as she walked, her eyes catching on a massive outdoor television screen mounted above a commercial building.

"Mr. King is back to the mainland to explore new business opportunities..."

"Why has Mr. King chosen to return to the mainland now, when his Asia-based company is thriving?"

The screen showed a flurry of reporters surrounding a tall, elegant man. Microphones were thrust toward him, cameras flashing wildly, eager to catch every word or expression. But the man remained composed, indifferent even, his handsome face calm under the chaos.

He gave nothing away-only a faint smile as he nodded at the crowd, his silence commanding as much attention as any statement.

Jessica stood for a second, her gaze locked on the screen.

And then she looked away, quietly continuing down the street.

Behind her, a group of women-young and old-had gathered, whispering and sighing in awe at the man's flawless demeanor. But Jessica wasn't in the mood to join them.

She had more pressing things to take care of.

Ten minutes later, she stepped into a chemist shop and walked straight to the counter.

"I'd like a contraceptive pill," she said quietly.

The pharmacist nodded and handed her a small pack. Jessica paid without hesitation, then bought a bottle of water from the fridge nearby. Without waiting, she swallowed the pill right there inside the store.

It's over. Whatever happened... it ends here.

Half an hour later, she arrived at the Cooper estate.

Slap!

The moment she stepped inside, a heavy hand struck across her cheek.

Her head snapped to the side, her skin stinging.

"How dare you disgrace our Cooper family?!" her stepmother, Cynthia Jacobs, screamed.

Jessica stood still, face calm despite the pain. She didn't even bother replying. Instead, she walked past the furious woman and made her way upstairs.

She was already worn out-physically, mentally, emotionally. And now, Cynthia was adding her usual drama to an already ruined day.

As she entered her room, she peeled off her coat and collapsed onto the bed, closing her eyes just for a moment.

Later that evening, voices echoed downstairs.

Her father's voice-stern and loud-could be heard through the halls, deep in conversation with Cynthia.

Jessica rose from the bed, her face composed, every movement precise. With slow, regal steps, she descended the staircase, posture graceful and proud. She looked every bit like a queen surveying her subjects.

"Dad," she greeted softly.

But Mr. Cooper's face twisted in anger the moment he saw her.

"Young, graceful daughter I've raised for 24 years!" he roared. "Now tell me, how do we secure the contract from the Howard family?!"

Jessica blinked, but her expression remained unmoved.

"How can you sleep with another man when you're already engaged to someone?!" he bellowed, frustration pouring from his voice.

Her stepmother jumped in, voice shrill. "Who knows if you've caught a disease or not?!"

Jessica didn't flinch.

Instead, she calmly walked past them and picked up the porcelain teapot from the side table. Gently, she poured herself a cup of hot tea, her slender fingers wrapping around the delicate cup. She sipped it slowly, quietly.

A beautiful smile curved her lips as the bitterness hit her tongue.

Seeing her serene reaction, her father blinked in surprise, his tone momentarily softened.

"You like the tea?"

Jessica nodded.

"I had this pu-erh tea specially imported," he said, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "Naturally strong. The newer ones are especially bold in flavor. I brewed it thick today... more bitter than usual."

Jessica took another sip, unbothered by the taste. In fact, she welcomed it.

She had already swallowed a more bitter reality today.

After her fourth cup, she set the empty teacup down.

"Dad," she said, looking up, "don't worry about the company. Leave it to me. I'll handle it."

Her father's eyes lit up.

"You? Can you?"

"If I can turn things around in two months," she replied calmly, "make me vice president."

Cynthia scoffed immediately. "No! Why? She's just a girl! What does she know about running a company?!"

But Mr. Cooper turned cold.

"She's my daughter," he said firmly. "And one day, the company will be hers."

A cold glint flashed in his eyes as his voice silenced any protest.

Jessica stood there, silent, watching the two selfish people in front of her.

She could read them both like a book-Cynthia's fear of losing control, her father's desperation disguised as anger.

With a quiet sigh, she turned and walked away.

Back up the stairs.

Back to her room.

And this time, she wasn't running away from pain.

She was walking into her purpose.

.