She refused to believe that Niamh couldn’t hear the favoritism laced through Jonathan’s words.
This latest battle over the raw gemstones only cemented her certainty: Jonathan didn’t have an ounce of real feeling for Niamh.
Even on her own birthday, she’d never enjoyed something as extravagant as a hot air balloon ride, personally arranged by Jonathan. But then again, those gestures weren’t for Niamh’s sake.
Jonathan did them for her.
With a sweet, rosy smile, Marina did her best to keep her inner satisfaction hidden from everyone at the table.
All that was left now was that single piece of paper–the divorce agreement.
Granted, Niamh had been the one to ask for the divorce, and Jonathan hadn’t agreed yet.
But what Jonathan truly feared was offending his grandfather, not losing Niamh.
That stubborn old man was the only real obstacle now…
Marina chewed her lobster meat until it was tasteless, her mind elsewhere.
Preston Winslow, sitting nearby, was growing restless.
If what he’d seen that night was right, then all those best–selling designs from The Thomas Group had been Niamh’s work.
He wanted to speak up, but this wasn’t his place.
He glanced over at Niamh several times, but she kept her head down, quietly picking at her crab.
Of course, Niamh knew Marina had stolen the credit for her designs.
But she didn’t see the point in explaining anymore.
Given Jonathan’s obvious bias and trust toward Marina, it’s not like he’d believe her
anyway.
Besides, with divorce looming, the worse Jonathan thought of her, the better. Let him think what he wanted.
1/3
That was what she told herself, at least. But knowing It didn’t shield her from the sting.
Her work for The Thomas Group was behind her now; what mattered more was proving herself in Liam Grant’s challenge.
Once she got home tonight, she’d finally finish it–the piece of jewelry without a single gemstone or pearl.
“Oh, by the way, Niamh…”
Marina’s syrupy voice made Niamh lift her gaze.
“I’ve just secured a spot at this year’s Luminous Divas Fashion Week.”
“What?” Niamh’s eyes widened in shock.
“Chairman Grant wrote me a recommendation letter himself. His wife loved the necklace I made out of that ruby, so they gave me the last slot. I figured I’d tell you, just in case you didn’t know and ended up working for nothing.”
As Marina finished speaking, Niamh’s finger slipped, and the crab shell pricked her skin, drawing blood.
“Oh, look, you’re bleeding!” Marina exclaimed, quickly grabbing Jonathan’s hand. “Jonathan, what should we do? Do you have a band–aid?”
Jonathan wasn’t exactly the type to carry band–aids around.
Even if he did, Marina’s grip on his hand made it impossible to fetch one.
Just as he was about to call Prescott and send him out for first aid supplies,
Preston Winslow shot to his feet.
“How could you be so careless? Honestly, you’re hopeless.”
He hurried over to Niamh, squeezed her finger gently to let the bloo
called over a waiter, asking for alcohol wipes or antiseptic.
Niamh blinked, a little confused by Preston’s unexpected fussing.
“It’s just a scratch. Really, it’s fine.”
“Don’t you know how much bacteria there is in seafood?”
Ow, and
Preston’s tone was typically brusque, but Niamh could hear the concern beneath it.
Jonathan stayed silent, his hand still gripping the crab cracker, knuckles whitening.
Marina batted her false–lashed eyes in surprise at Preston.
་་ཡ་ ་་་
What was wrong with him tonight?
It was one thing not to sneer at Niamh, but now he was actually worried about her?
Marina frowned, unable to hide her irritation.
Preston was Jonathan’s friend in name, but in her eyes, he’d always been more of
Jonathan’s sidekick.
Her sidekick, too.
Back in high school, she’d always had the feeling-
Preston Winslow was in love with her.
