I Owe the Tyrant Four Little Heirs novel Chapter 150

“I want everyone in Mom’s office to understand something,” Jove said, his expression serious. “Mom has the four of us to protect her. Anyone who bullies her will end up just like Jareth. And I especially want that woman Rhoslyn to get the message.”

“Alright,” Keir agreed. “All four of us. We start with Jareth.”

The days that followed were a grueling ordeal for Niamh. She had to wake up even earlier, leaving her father to handle the kids’ breakfast. She was stuck at the office until ten, sometimes even midnight. Jareth had wanted to rotate the late nights between the three secretaries, but he’d privately threatened to dock Niamh’s pay if she ever dared to leave before him.

They barely spoke to each other that week, their interactions limited to work. But Jareth never missed an opportunity to find fault with everything she did.

Yara came to the office every day, and Niamh always seemed to walk in on them flirting outrageously. No matter what Niamh did, Jareth found a reason to criticize it. She could only grit her teeth and endure, feeling as though every day was an eternity. If she had known being Jareth’s secretary would be this torturous, she never would have taken the job.

Somehow, she made it to Friday.

Just like every other night, the rest of the office was dark and empty, but at ten o’clock, the light in the CEO’s suite was still on. In truth, Niamh had little to do during these long evenings. When Jareth wasn’t bothering her, she used the time to study, either sketching new designs or practicing her Russian.

Tonight, however, she was exhausted. After a few minutes of sketching, her head drooped, and she fell asleep at her desk.

When Jareth wheeled himself out of his office, he found her sleeping soundly. For a moment, he felt a pang of reluctance to wake her. He just sat there in his wheelchair, watching. The way she slept was a mess—her face was squashed against her arm, and a tiny trickle of drool glistened at the corner of her mouth.

He silently berated himself. “Jareth, have you really been losing your mind over a woman who drools in her sleep? Has your taste gotten this bad?”

“What?” She was sure she’d heard him wrong.

“My grandfather wants to meet you,” he repeated, his voice flat.

This time, she understood. His grandfather, the chairman of the Bragg Group, a man worth billions, wanted to see her? It didn’t make any sense.

“Jareth, is this just another one of your games?”

Sensing her disbelief, he added, “He was very fond of the vest you bought.”