Chapter 114
Niamh was about to leave when a WhatsApp message from Jonathan popped up:
Wait for me at the office. I’ll be back soon.
She shot back a reply:
Work or personal?
Jonathan:
Personal.
So, Niamh didn’t wait.
It was a rare day when she didn’t have to stay late, and she was debating whether to catch the company shuttle or take the subway home. Before she could decide, a
sleek black sedan pulled up in front of her.
Prescott was behind the wheel.
“Miss Rivers, please get in,” he said politely.
“That’s not necessary,” Niamh replied, just as politely. “I can take the subway.”
“I’m not just giving you a ride.”
Prescott’s words left her momentarily puzzled.
“This is Mr. Thomas’s request,” he explained.
Niamh’s expression shifted ever so slightly.
She didn’t like being at Jonathan’s beck and call, but she alsò didn’t want to make things difficult for Prescott. In the end, she climbed into the car.
Prescott drove her straight to a shopping mall, stopping directly outside a boutique Jonathan had specified.
Niamh caught sight of Jonathan as he arrived–fashionably late, as always. She couldn’t help but find it a little amusing.
He could have easily picked her up on his way back from dropping Marina off.
Maybe he was worried Marina would mind. Or maybe he didn’t want people at the office to get the wrong idea.
Either way, it was clear: compared to Marina, the “other woman,” Niamh–the
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legitimate wife–was only fit to be chauffeured to the mall by an assistant.
If anything, she felt more like the mistress.
Noticing the faint displeasure on her face, Jonathan took the initiative. “Pick whatever you like. It’s on me.”
He was as cool and distant as always, but somehow, that only made him more alluring.
Niamh knew why Jonathan was buying her clothes: she was expected to look the part at his friends‘ gathering tomorrow.
The boutique was expensive, but she could afford it if she wanted. Still, since she was only going to be Jonathan’s plus–one, it seemed fair that he should foot the bill.
So, she didn’t hold back–she tried on plenty of outfits.
Jonathan waited on the sofa, silent.
It wasn’t the first time he’d bought her clothes. He knew her size down to the last detail. Sometimes he’d bring her to the store himself, but Niamh never voiced her opinions or preferences–she let him decide everything.
Which meant that every dress he chose for her suited Marina’s taste.
Every single one was pink.
The thing was, Niamh wasn’t anything like Marina, who had that sweet, delicate look. Niamh’s features were striking and elegant–she could stand out even in a room full of beautiful women.
She could pull off any color, any style.
But Jonathan had never stopped to wonder whether she liked pink, or if it suited her
at all.
In the end, he watched as Niamh picked out a slate gray suit, a deep green dress that could work for both daytime and cocktail events, and a bright red polo with slim black pants–perfect for a round of golf.
“So
you
don’t actually like black?” Jonathan murmured, half to himself.
Niamh chuckled. “Not everyone’s like Marina, Jonathan–not everyone wears pink and nothing else.”
“Is that so?”
Jonathan’s reaction was indifferent, as if it didn’t matter either way
Niamh realized bringing up Marina was pointless; it just made her sound jealous
Saturday, Royal Oasis Golf Club.
Owen and Fiona were a married couple with a knack for golf, and Jonathan wasn’t half bad himself. Niamh, meanwhile, was more of an afterthought.
She’d learned plenty growing up, but she wasn’t an expert at everything.
Golf, for instance, was not her strong suit.
The four of them had lunch together, then Niamh and Jonathan strolled arm in arm through the club, projecting a picture–perfect couple for their friends‘ benefit.
“Look! That girl just made a hole–in–one!” Owen shouted, excitement in his voice.
A ripple of excitement swept across the course.
Jonathan glanced in the direction Owen was pointing. As the girl turned around, he instinctively let go of Niamh’s hand.
