I Owe the Tyrant Four Little Heirs novel Chapter 72

When Jareth didn’t respond, she turned to look at him and gasped. His face, which had been as red as a cooked crab moments ago, was now dark as a thundercloud.

“Mr. Bragg, are you feeling alright?” she asked, worried that he was genuinely sick.

Jareth gritted his teeth. He had flown hundreds of times in his life, but he had never seen anyone react like this.

Niamh blinked her clear eyes at him. “Mr. Bragg, are you sure you’re okay? If you’re sick, you should get it treated before it gets worse.”

“You’re the one who’s sick,” he thought. “You and your whole family.”

He couldn’t believe he had brought an imbecile on this trip and made her his secretary. It made him feel like an imbecile too.

Seeing the storm clouds gathering on Jareth’s face, Niamh finally realized he wasn’t sick—he was angry. She snatched her hand back from his sleeve as if she’d been burned, scooted closer to the window, and turned her head to look back outside. The sight of the blue sky and white clouds instantly calmed her.

“Wow, it’s so beautiful,” she sighed. “I never knew the view from a plane could be this amazing.”

“Country mouse,” Jareth thought disdainfully.

Niamh then opened her backpack, took out a small green notebook and a red pencil, and started sketching.

Noticing her sudden silence, Jareth stole a glance at her. He saw the notebook in her hand and was reminded of the red one the cleaner had left at his house. It was the same style, just a different color.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Fine, if she didn’t want to tell him, he didn’t want to ask. He didn’t care what she was drawing.

He closed his eyes, trying to rest. His insomnia had been getting worse lately. He had only gotten two hours of sleep, and it was filled with nightmares. The first half of the night, he dreamed of his parents lying in pools of blood. The second half, he dreamed of that night five years ago, and the woman beneath him was Niamh. The sight of her face had shocked him awake.

It was just a dream, thank God. But it was a ridiculously vivid one. Other than his mother, Niamh was the only woman who had ever entered his dreams.

Jareth’s eyes slowly opened, his gaze shifting to Niamh. She was hunched over her notebook, completely engrossed in her drawing.

He had to admit, she was quite attractive from the side. Her long lashes curled slightly, casting a faint shadow on her fair cheeks. Her nose was straight and elegant, and her rosy lips were slightly parted, looking almost inviting.

As he watched her, his mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard.