His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 536

As soon as Niamh finished speaking, she turned and walked away.

Jonathan had convinced himself that, with enough coaxing and persistence, he could get Niamh to willingly get in the car. But in the end, all he could do was watch her walk right out of his reach.

His eyes darkened, sharp and dangerous.

Suddenly, Niamh heard rapid footsteps behind her. Before she could even turn around, Jonathan had swept her off her feet and slung her over his shoulder.

“Jonathan! What are you doing?!”

In broad daylight, in the middle of a bustling business district, Niamh would never have imagined Jonathan would actually resort to brute force.

“Put me down!” she yelled, kicking and struggling against his shoulder.

Jonathan acted as if he couldn’t hear her.

No matter how much Niamh pounded on his back or clawed at his hair, he carried her straight back to his car and unceremoniously shoved her into the passenger seat.

The royal blue Bentley pulled away, brushing past the white BMW that remained parked at the curb.

He’d promised her lunch, but instead he steered the car onto the highway.

Niamh sat in the passenger seat, bored out of her mind.

“Do you ever drive on this highway?” Jonathan tried. “I heard they just finished renovating it.”

Silence.

“Any guesses where I’m taking you for lunch?”

Still nothing.

“Hey, look—the billboard’s advertising a new movie. I bet you haven’t seen that one yet, right?”

Niamh said nothing.

She’d never imagined Jonathan could be this talkative.

If she remembered correctly, he never spoke while driving, never responded to small talk—unless Marina was there. That was the one exception.

She remembered once, sitting in Jonathan’s car, trying to fill the silence. He ignored her completely, until Prescott quietly advised her to let it go.

Every now and then, Jonathan glanced over at Niamh.

She hadn’t moved, still leaning against the window, looking for all the world as if she’d actually fallen asleep.

But her brows were furrowed, never relaxing—proof enough that her mood was terrible.

A heavy feeling pressed against Jonathan’s chest. He kept driving, quietly adjusting the air conditioning so it wouldn’t blow directly on her.

After a while, he pulled into a rest stop.

Niamh was truly asleep now, deeply enough that even the jolt of the car stopping didn’t wake her.

Jonathan gently reclined her seat to make her more comfortable, then slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over her.

Niamh was a natural beauty.

When she’d been a stay-at-home wife, she never wore makeup; as a professional, she only wore a little. Either way, it made no difference—her beauty was impossible to hide.

For a moment, Jonathan was lost in memory, recalling the days of his youth when he’d watched a girl sleep, just like this.