After all this time, Niamh found herself back in the house that had once been her home. Everything inside was just as it had been when she was married–furniture, photos, the arrangement of the rooms. It was as if nothing had changed at all.
She lifted her gaze, surprise and confusion flickering in her eyes.
If she remembered correctly, Marina had transformed this place into something straight out of a cotton–candy daydream–everywhere you looked, a different shade of pink. Now, though, there was no trace of that.
“Marina doesn’t live here anymore,” Jonathan said abruptly, as if reading her mind.
Niamh felt a shiver. He always did have a knack for seeing straight through her.
Looking around at the familiar decor, she realized Jonathan wasn’t lying. Marina really was gone.
“Whether she lives here or not doesn’t matter to me,” Niamh said quietly.
“How about a drink? Might help you relax.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Not exactly shaken.”
Jonathan studied her face, searching for a crack in her composure, but seeing none, poured himself a glass of whiskey.
Niamh watched as he reached for an ice cube. “It’s freezing out, and you’re adding ice? I thought your stomach couldn’t handle that anymore.”
The words slipped out before she could stop herself. She instantly regretted it.
Jonathan set the ice down. “Alright, you win. No ice.”
She couldn’t help noticing the way his lips curled in that familiar, irresistible half–smile, as if he’d only reached for the ice to see if she’d protest.
“So, why did you bring me here?” she asked, folding her arms.
Jonathan took a sip of his drink before answering. “Your uncle–Bagot- embezzled company funds. He’s drowning in gambling debts, took out a bunch of high–interest loans, and now it’s all come crashing down. The bank’s cut him off, the company’s bankrupt, and he’s facing prison time. I wanted to ask what you plan to do about it.”
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“Me?” Niamh tilted her head. “He made his own bed. Maybe jail will finally keep him from harassing me.”
Jonathan looked genuinely surprised. “I didn’t realize you could be so cold.”
She frowned, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. “I didn’t realize you could be so saintly.”
He hesitated, then just smiled, saying nothing.
Niamh didn’t think of herself as cold. Bagot had brought this on himself–and besides, he wasn’t even her real uncle. There wasn’t a drop of shared blood
between them. How did that make her heartless?
On the drive back to Jade Peak Pavilion, Niamh scrolled through her phone. Bagot’s name was all over the trending news. After he’d paid for online smear campaigns against her, public opinion had flipped overnight. Every major site was exposing him: embezzlement, gambling debts, loan sharks. In just one night, his life had imploded–reputation in ruins, company bankrupt, house and car repossessed by the bank, and now he was facing arrest.
It was hard not to feel a pang of pity for his rollercoaster downfall.
Now that Jonathan had said his piece, Niamh was ready to leave.
“It’s late. Where are you going to go?” Jonathan asked. “You should just stay here tonight.”
He didn’t wait for her answer. He headed to the walk–in closet, changed into pajamas, and then emerged holding a brand–new set for her.
Niamh noticed they weren’t pink–they were black.
“What? Don’t like them?” he asked.
“They’re fine…” she replied, but she didn’t move.
She didn’t want to stay at Jade Peak Pavilion. She didn’t want to share a roof with Jonathan.
Sensing her hesitation, Jonathan’s gaze cooled. “Relax. I’m not going to touch you.” With that, he turned and went to the master bedroom.
Niamh could tell he wasn’t pleased, but making him unhappy, was better than giving him any ideas.
After a shower, she changed into the new pajamas and lay down in bed. When
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they’d bought this bed, she’d thought it was enormous, but with two people in it, it suddenly felt a lot smaller–and Jonathan’s warmth behind her was impossible to ignore.
Chapter 295
