"Ms. Rivers, the air conditioning is a bit too strong over here."
As he spoke, Ramona covered her mouth and sneezed.
Simultaneously, Jonathan slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over Niamh's shoulders.
The air truly was frigid, and the cold draft had sent goosebumps rising on Niamh's skin.
She was surprised that Jonathan was the first to notice she was cold.
His jacket, still carrying a trace of his warmth, felt incredibly comforting.
Across from them, Ramona was so cold her face had turned pale, and she let out a series of sneezes, glaring venomously at Jonathan.
"Did you really think you could get rid of me just by walking away with nothing?"
Jonathan's gaze shifted to Ramona, turning colder than the air around them.
"You're overthinking things, Miss Quinn," he said, his lips, which naturally curved into a smile, forming a faint arc. "I left with nothing because I wanted to be Ms. Rivers's assistant. It has nothing to do with you."
"You!" Ramona's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Nia…" Just then, Elmer took Niamh's arm. "It seems Miss Quinn has a lot to say to your assistant. Why don't we give them some time alone?"
Before Niamh could reply, Elmer was already pulling her away.
Jonathan's deep-set eyes reflected Niamh's slender, retreating figure.
The farther she moved from him, the tighter his chest felt.
"Jonathan, Niamh doesn't love you. What's the point of being her lapdog?"
Ramona's sharp words snapped Jonathan's attention back to her.
He looked at her heavily made-up face and offered a faint smile. "I don't like you either, yet you seem to enjoy chasing after me relentlessly."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: His Housewife Had Secret Identities