Niamh and Julian didn’t even bother to change their clothes–they rushed straight to the police station.
As soon as they stepped inside, Niamh spotted Lana sitting dutifully at a desk, sporting a nasty black eye.
“Lana!” Niamh hurried over and threw her arms around her friend. “What happened to you? Who did this?”
Her eyes blazed with anger. She’d already gotten the story from the officers: Lana had gotten into a fight. And just her luck, the other parties involved were none other than Lily and Olive.
If there was ever a case of bad blood meeting on a narrow path, this was it.
After finishing her shift, Lana had decided to stroll through town. She’d run into Lily and Olive whispering behind her back, trash–talking Niamh with words that would make anyone’s blood boil. Lana couldn’t let it slide–she confronted them, voices were raised, and before long, fists started flying.
The police brought all three in for statements, but technically, Lana threw the first punch.
Niamh’s hands curled into fists as she listened, but Lana managed a lopsided smile. “Hey, don’t forget where you are. This is the police station,” she teased.
She knew Niamh could handle herself–years of kickboxing lessons–and though Niamh was usually calm, when she lost her temper, she was a force to be
reckoned with.
“Relax, those two got it worse than I did.”
Niamh wasn’t so sure, suspecting Lana was just trying to calm her down, but when Lily and Olive finally emerged, she nearly burst out laughing.
“Damn, Lana, you really did a number on them!”
Even sporting a black eye, Lana managed to look smug at the compliment.
Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Lily! Olive!”
Niamh and Lana’s smiles vanished in an instant.
Marina strode into the station, Jonathan trailing behind her.
Jonathan didn’t look surprised to see Niamh there. As soon as Marina had told him
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that Lily and Olive had gotten into a fight with Lana, he’d guessed he’d run into Niamh too.
But he hadn’t expected Julian would be here as well.
Jonathan’s gaze flickered between Julian and Niamh. He remembered the first time he’d seen Julian by Niamh’s side, at that little Italian place uptown. He’d known instantly who Julian was–the Neville family’s golden boy.
Their crowd was small; even if you hadn’t met someone, you knew of them. Jonathan even knew about Julian’s falling out with his family, how he’d ditched the suits and tried to blend in as an ordinary college kid.
But tonight, Julian was back in a sharp tuxedo, clearly dressed for a special occasion–a date, maybe.
Jonathan’s eyes darkened as he looked back at Niamh. The black sequin dress she wore was one he’d never seen before–not one he’d bought her, anyway. All the clothes he gave Niamh were pink; she never picked out her own.
The reason for all that pink? Back in high school, Jonathan had gotten used to buying gifts for Marina. He didn’t know much about women’s clothes, but he did know Marina loved pastel colors. He’d assumed all women must feel the same.
So… did Niamh actually prefer black?
The question only lingered in his mind for a moment.
The dress wasn’t just a different color; the cut was daring too–a plunging neckline, bare back. If Niamh had shown up like this before, her mother would’ve thrown a fit,
called her shameless.
But on Niamh, the dress was a perfect blend of elegance and sensuality.
Uncomfortable under Jonathan’s stare, Niamh turned her face away.
Despite the heavy makeup, Jonathan couldn’t help but notice her swollen eyes. Even Julian, unless he was blind or clueless, had to suspect what had gone on between Niamh and Jonathan the night before.
Jonathan gave a small, satisfied smile. His mood had definitely improved.
Nearby, Marina was sobbing as she took in Lily and Olive’s bruised faces. Jonathan pulled out a tissue and gently dabbed away her tears.
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