His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 173

"Not for much longer."

Niamh unbuckled her seatbelt, and Jonathan did the same.

That simple movement made Niamh's already-tense body go rigid.

"What are you so afraid of?"

Out of nowhere, Jonathan leaned over, bracing himself against the passenger door.

He boxed Niamh in, trapping her between the seat and his arm. She held her breath.

"Are you scared of me?"

Jonathan's lips curled into a slight, dangerous smile. His eyes, fixed on hers, sparkled like stars in a midnight sky.

Niamh's heart pounded even harder.

"Afraid I'll touch you?"

Catching the panic in her eyes, Jonathan gave a soft, amused chuckle and finally backed off. He pulled out his phone.

"Prescott, are you here?"

Niamh could just make out Prescott's voice on the other end.

"I'm here, just behind Miss Rivers' car."

"Good."

Jonathan ended the call and turned to Niamh. "I can't exactly drive your car back, can I?"

So, he'd unbuckled his seatbelt just to get out and head to his own car—not for any of the things she'd imagined.

Niamh's cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

Not only had Jonathan guessed exactly what was on her mind, she'd completely misread his intentions.

Bathed in Jonathan's mocking gaze, she could almost hear him saying:

"You overestimate your own appeal."

They both got out of the car at the same time—Jonathan heading to the back, Niamh to the front.

As they passed each other, Jonathan's low, magnetic voice drifted past her ear like a cool breeze on a summer night.

Niamh wasn't a stingy boss; she'd definitely share the bonus.

Quentin rarely joined in Sophia and Natalie's conversations. Instead, he made himself a cup of coffee and wandered over to Niamh's desk.

She was hunched over her sketchbook, lost in concentration.

The finals were different from the earlier rounds—this time, they had a whole month to prepare and only needed to submit a sketch online. On the day of the finals, they'd bring their materials and create the finished piece on site.

Quentin stood silently beside her, barely noticeable.

He watched as Niamh drew, erasing and refining, until a clear outline of a robot emerged on the page.

So it really is a robot...

Quentin let out a quiet, dismissive snort.

Looks like this is all she's got.

To be fair, when he thought of AI, the first thing that came to his mind was also a robot. Still, he'd hoped Niamh might have come up with something more original.

Quentin had originally applied to Marina's studio because he'd noticed the hit new lines coming out of The Thomas Group.