The Ceo’s Convict Wife by Jennifer Mike

Chapter 98

Rosalie’s body tensed even further, and almost instinctively, she turned her face away, not wanting him to see her current expression.

“But have you ever considered that it’s because I am Jonathan Youngblood that I can make that old classmate of yours kneel and apologize to you? I can make it so that from now on, you won’t have to worry about others’ opinions, and those who look down on you will have to treat you with respect,” Jonathan calmly stated.

“What difference does that make? I would just be bullying others by flaunting my powerful connections,” she replied.

“What is the problem with that? I am willing to let you flaunt your relationship with me. How about it?” He leaned back in his chair, staring at her as if he were having a minor conversation.

Rosalie stared at him, perplexed. She assumed that when she approached him that day for help, his rejection meant that he had cut ties with her.

After all, a man of his stature would never allow himself to be rejected by a woman.

However, she hadn’t expected him to suddenly appear at her rental home that evening and even bring her to the restaurant.

Also, the reason he made Mandy kneel in front of her earlier was probably to teach her the significance of the power Jonathan held.

Mandy, who was prominent and arrogant, was forced to apologize in front of him.

“What do you want?” she asked, confused.

He gave it some thought, but he was not entirely certain of it himself. Perhaps he just wanted to see her again.

After being turned down once, he wondered if she would try to beg him again.

But she didn’t.

Even now, with him right in front of her, she did not beg him for assistance.

“Speaking of which, are you not going to beg me to help your relatives?” he asked flatly.

Stunned, Rosalie slowly widened her eyes. “Would you release them from the police station if I begged?”

“How will you know if you do not even try?” he asked, a half-simile tugging at his lips.

A mix of anxiety and unease flashed across her face. She wondered if he was saying that to make her feel rejected again after begging him or if he truly intended to assist her in rescuing Daniel and the others.

The next instant, Rosalie clenched her fists, determined to hold on to even a tiny glimmer of hope for Wilma’s sake.

*I-I beg you. Would you kindly have them released from the police station?” she inquired. At that moment, she had made up her mind. Even if Jonathan made her kneel or humiliated her later, she would bear it all.

To her surprise, Jonathan suddenly stood up, walked over to her, and took her right hand in his. He gently pried her clenched fingers open.

“Rosie, did you forget that your hand is still injured? Doesn’t clenching your fist hurt even though the wound in your palm has scabbed over the course of time?” Rosalie’s body stiffened as he spoke soothingly to her.

To keep some semblance of sanity, she injured herself on purpose that day at the Foster residence, resulting in a wound in her palm.

That night, Jonathan saved her from the brink of despair.

“It seems like your hands are always cold. Would you like me to warm them up?” he asked softly.

She looked at his large hands, which were gently holding her delicate hands. His hands gradually warmed hers.

At that moment, there was a sudden knock on the door of the private room.

“Come in Jonathan naturally responded.

The door swung open. Dexter and a few waitresses entered the private room carrying dishes. Rosalie tried to pull her hand away instinctively, but Jonathan grabbed it firmly and said, “Don’t move. They are still cold.”

The manager and waitresses all turned to look at them, who were holding hands at the time. Rosalie’s face immediately flushed with embarrassment.

Regardless, Jonathan continued to hold Rosalie’s hands with no regard for the onlookers.

“I this really Mr. Youngblood, who is rumored to have stripped and dumped a woman on the street after she knowingly seduced him?” Dexter wondered.

After all, Jonathan was known for being indifferent to women, but now he was showing such gentleness toward an

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ordinary-looking woman.

It was simply unbelievable.

Dexter was the first to recover from his shock. He cleared his throat and motioned for the waitresses to place the dishes on the table before exiting the room quickly and closing the private room door cautiously.

“I must ask, did we just see what I think we did? Who is this woman?” someone asked, leaning in closer to Dexter.

Dexter’s expression was solemn. “This woman might become a significant figure in Strico in the future.”

Indeed, if Jonathan truly favored a woman, she would become an untouchable figure in Strico.

It was quiet once more inside the private room. Rosalie could feel her face becoming hotter by the second after Jonathan managed to warm her hand.

“All right. Let’s eat. These dishes are best when they are hot,” Jonathan said, sitting next to Rosalie. Naturally, he began serving her food.

Nonetheless, Rosalie’s thoughts were elsewhere as she ate absent-mindedly. She would occasionally cast a quick glance at Jonathan. After a while, she gathered her courage and broached the subject again. “W-Would you consider helping me release my relatives from the police station?”

“It seems that you really want me to help your relatives,” he replied. Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

In reality, Rosalie was only doing it for Wilma’s sake. However, she still stared straight at Jonathan, her gaze intense. “Will you?”

Jonathan looked at the woman in front of him, scrutinizing her from head to toe. She appeared to have become even thinner than before. Her chin had become more pointed, and her eyes beneath her delicate brows seemed to have grown larger. Her face was so small that his hand seemed to be able to completely conceal it.

Her eyes were filled with hope and longing at that moment, making her appear vulnerable and evoking sympathy. Usually, he disliked weak and frail people.

However, it appeared that he was making an exception in her case.

He moved his hand, picked up the wine glass in front of him, and poured a glass of red wine for her. “How about we have a drink?”

“A drink?” Rosalie was taken aback, not expecting him to suggest that.

“Yes, a drink. I want to see how you look when you drink,” he said with a faint smile.

Rosalie hesitated. Her alcohol tolerance was low. If she drank, she might get drunk and have no idea what she would do afterward.

“H-How much do I have to drink?” she inquired.