She’d been played for a fool.
Niamh turned to leave, but Preston Winslow blocked her path.
“Hey, you’re already here–why rush off?” he drawled, grinning.
From the side, the guy who’d lost a bet to Preston chimed in, his voice thick with alcohol.
“Exactly! The moment you heard Jonathan was wasted, you came running. If I’d known you’d back out this easily, I never would’ve bet with Preston.”
Niamh barely knew the guy–Zachary, was it?
“Told you Jonathan’s got that irresistible charm,” Zachary crowed, elbowing Preston. “Women throw themselves at him–especially this old has–been.”
Preston gave Niamh a long, mocking look as he spoke. The lighting in the VIP lounge was dim, but he could still see the anger burning on her face.
Earlier that evening, after dinner with Marina, Jonathan had gotten a call from Preston. They’d ended up here, at The Gatsby Club.
Zachary, knowing Niamh and Jonathan were in the middle of a messy divorce, decided to make her the butt of his jokes. Halfway through his whiskey, he’d bet Preston that Preston couldn’t get Niamh to show up. Loser had to down the entire whiskey tower in front of them.
“Sit down already,” Preston slurred, tugging her toward the couch. “Nobody asked you to stand in the corner.”
Niamh jerked her arm free, glaring at him.
Preston clicked his tongue. “Come on, admit it. You still care about Jonathan–so why pretend you’re above it all? If you’re going to make a fool of yourself, might as well go all the way, right, guys?”
The whole room erupted, laughter bouncing off the walls.
Jonathan quietly stubbed out his cigarette, glancing over at Niamh. The mix of humiliation and fury on her face vaguely amused him.
“As you can see, I’m not drunk. You can leave now,” he said, his voice cool and clipped,
7
Another round of boozy laughter broke out.
1/2
14:15
Chapter gy
“Don’t tell her to go, Jonathan!” Marina tugged at Jonathan’s sleeve, shooting him a pleading look. “Niamh came all this way because she cares about you. No matter what, she’s been loyal for years–maybe not perfect, but she’s tried her best.”
“See how gracious Marina is?” Preston toasted Marina, and Zachary added, “Yeah, there’s the real wife, and then there’s the live–in maid. Not really the same, is it?”
They were having the time of their lives at her expense. Jonathan took a sip of tequila from Marina’s glass and, barely glancing at Niamh, murmured, “Suit yourself.”
The laughter and taunts filled the room, but all Niamh could hear was the sound of her dignity shattering.
She wanted to slap herself. How could she have been so stupid–falling right into Preston Winslow’s trap?
She spun on her heel and strode for the door. This time, nobody stopped her. Preston was too busy egging Zachary on to finish his whiskey tower.
Niamh had nearly reached the exit when, suddenly, she stopped.
Only Jonathan noticed her turn back. His gaze followed her, impassive as ever, as she picked up a glass of whiskey and walked right up to Preston.
“A bet’s a bet–down it! Don’t chicken out now, or-”
Splash.
A full glass of whiskey drenched Preston Winslow’s face.
For a moment, the room was dead silent. The first real silence all night..
Preston wiped whiskey from his eyes, stunned, as Niamh turned on her heel and marched out of the lounge.
Her footsteps quickened as she strode down the hallway. She’d thrown whiskey in Preston’s face, but it didn’t bring her any satisfaction. All she wanted was to get out of there as fast as possible–which is why she didn’t see the man she barreled into.
“What the hell? Are you blind?” the man barked.
He was middle–aged, bloated, with a greasy face and breath that reeked of alcohol.
Niamh apologized immediately, but he wasn’t having it.
“You think ‘sorry‘ cuts it? My shoulder’s probably bruised, you little minx. With that much strength, I bet you’re a real wildcat in bed, huh?“.
