Michael sat so close to Niamh their shoulders nearly touched. She could tell he had something to say to her–but now wasn’t the time.
“Sixty million,” came a lazy bid from the next table. Jonathan’s voice was casual, almost bored.
“Jonathan…” Sprague tried to stop him, lowering his voice. There was impressing the Quinn family, and then there was spending sixty million dollars on a hair comb. Sixty million dollars. Enough to bankroll several mid–sized ventures, or a single major one.
But Jonathan ignored Sprague’s warning look, as if he hadn’t noticed at all.
Bidding had reached a level that drew murmurs of curiosity from the crowd. Yes, Niamh’s jeweled hair comb was exquisite–her design, precious metals, gemstones–but it was still just a comb, a piece of jewelry. Hardly a rare Da Vinci or Van Gogh original. Even as an antique, few items could command this kind of price.
And for Jonathan, the comb wasn’t especially valuable–neither as an accessory, nor as a collectible. Anyone could see he was trying to win favor with a woman. The only question was–which woman?
Guests began whispering among themselves, speculation buzzing just beneath the surface.
Niamh had already guessed Jonathan’s intention: he wanted the comb to give to Ramona. Still, the sheer scale of his bid stunned her. If she remembered right, the last time Jonathan had splurged like this was to buy that iconic pink diamond necklace–one of only ten in the world–for Marina. For most millionaires, that necklace would have been an extravagance. At the time, Niamh thought Jonathan’s devotion to his first love was unmatched.
But even that necklace had cost far less than sixty million. When Clifford Thomas celebrated his milestone birthday, Jonathan’s gift–a luxury watch–had gone for thirty million.
If someone had told her Jonathan was bidding sixty million for something for Marina, she’d believe it. But for Ramona? That was harder to swallow.
Her eyes drifted toward Jonathan’s table, curiosity piqued. How far had things progressed between Jonathan and Ramona? If Jonathan was already courting
21:36
Ramona, did that mean he’d left Marina behind? But he was still propping up
Marina’s company, which made Niamh question her assumptions. Surely Jonathan wasn’t trying to have it both ways?
While she was lost in thought, Michael spoke beside her. “Sixty–one million.”
Niamh’s eyes flew wide open. Michael’s gaze, hidden behind gold–rimmed glasses, sparkled with mischief as he grinned, reckless as ever.
“Remember, once the gavel falls, there’s no backing out,” she whispered, trying to warn him. At least Jonathan had some reason to be bidding–what was Michael’s excuse?
She recalled how Michael and Jonathan had been rivals since their university days. But to throw away sixty–one million dollars just to spite him? She couldn’t fathom Michael’s logic.
Across the room, Jonathan watched as Niamh and Michael whispered. His eyes darkened.
“Seventy million,” he announced.
“Jonathan, you can’t keep this up,” Sprague warned, barely containing his frustration.
“Seventy–one million,” Michael countered, turning to look Jonathan straight in the eye, pushing his glasses up with one finger.
Jonathan felt the challenge and glanced back. Where Michael wore a sly, almost playful smile, Jonathan’s expression was icy, his features set like stone.
“Eighty million.”
“Eighty–one million.”
“Ninety million.”
“Ninety–one million.”
