“Whatever you want.”
Jonathan tossed the words over his shoulder and walked away without looking back.
Niamh wasn’t surprised by his cold indifference.
But then, just as he passed her, Jonathan paused and spoke softly, almost as an afterthought:
“If he gives you any trouble, just call me.”
Niamh watched him go, her emotions tangled–she couldn’t have named what she was feeling if she tried.
Michael stood silently nearby. Behind his gold–rimmed glasses, his gaze was icy and sharp.
“He loves Marina, not you. Don’t make a fool of yourself.”
Snapping out of her daze, Niamh frowned and turned to Michael.
“Did you need something?”
“Wait here a second.”
Michael popped open the trunk of his car and pulled out an enormous bouquet of red roses, wrapped in elegant paper.
“These are for you.”
He handed them over as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Red roses with thorns–suits you perfectly. I specifically asked the florist to leave every single thorn on.”
Niamh stared at him, baffled.
It was strange enough that Michael was giving her flowers, but keeping the thorns? That was just bizarre.
“Sorry, I’m allergic to pollen,” she said honestly.
“Really?” Michael tilted his head, skeptical. “That’s not just an excuse to down, is it?”
‘n me
“No, I’m genuinely allergic.”
2010
1/3
Chapter 258
Michael’s unwavering stare made Niamh’s skin crawl.
After a moment, he simply said, “Alright.”
Niamh thought he’d just take the bouquet back, but instead, Michael did something
she never expected. Right in front of her, he began plucking the stamens out of
each rose, one by one.
Niamh’s jaw dropped.
She drew in a sharp breath, too shocked to protest. She knew it was pointless anyway–Michael never listened to her.
His bare hands worked through the roses, and the thorns soon left fresh scratches across his skin.
Only when he’d stripped all ninety–nine roses of their stamens did he finally stop.
“No more pollen now.”
He offered the bouquet to Niamh again.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
The roses were a sorry sight–petals scattered everywhere, the flowers themselves barely recognizable.
“Green stems with thorns, for you… Isn’t that just another kind of rose that blooms among brambles?”
Michael flashed a surprisingly charming smile.
Niamh had to admit, when he wanted to, Michael could be remarkably eloquent.
Suddenly, inspiration struck.
“Sorry, Michael–I have to go!”
Michael blinked in confusion.
He’d just mutilated ninety–nine roses, all in hopes of winning her over–maybe convincing her to share a meal with him.
But before he could say a word, Niamh had already turned and bolted, running off as fast as she could.
Even so, as she disappeared down the street, she waved back at him and shouted,
“Thank you!”
20:20
Chapter 258
Michael watched her vanish, adjusting his gold–rimmed glasses.
“…Thank me for what?”
He couldn’t figure it out, but the smile tugging at his lips only grew wider.
Not far away, in a royal–blue Bentley, Jonathan sat behind the wheel, gazing silently through the spotless windshield.
He’d seen Michael hand Niamh that enormous bouquet of roses.
He’d seen Michael strip the flowers bare with his own hands.
He’d seen Niamh actually smile.
Jonathan realized, with a strange ache, that it had been a long time since he’d seen Niamh laugh–at least, not in front of him.
And finally, he saw her leave Michael behind without a second glance.
Jonathan’s frozen expression softened slightly as he started the engine at last.
Meanwhile, Niamh was speeding across town in her white BMW, heading for the studio.
“Hey, Quentin? Can you order a batch of fluorite for me? I’ve got an idea.”
Chapter 259
Chapter 259
