I Owe the Tyrant Four Little Heirs novel Chapter 98

Niamh knew she had no other choice. Without another word, she picked up one of the glasses and drained the full measure of red wine in a single go.

Jareth watched her with a cold sneer. She was clearly a heavy drinker, just pretending to be some innocent lightweight.

A wave of disgust washed over him.

She then picked up the second glass and downed it just as quickly. Setting the empty glass down, she asked, “Mr. Bragg, are we even now?”

“Do you have any idea what my head is worth?” he retorted. “You think two glasses of wine covers it?”

“Then what else do you want?” Niamh asked, staring straight at him. With two full glasses of wine in her system, her face was burning, and her mind was starting to fog over.

Before he could answer, she pointed a finger at him and shouted, “Mr. Bragg, you don’t… you don’t want me to sleep with you, do you?”

“What?” Jareth was baffled. Did she even know what she was saying?

“I’ve heard that a lot of big bosses make their secretaries sleep with them!” she continued, her voice rising. “Well, let me tell you, Jareth, you can forget about it! I would rather die than sleep with you!”

Jareth gaped at her, incredulous.

What was going through this woman’s head? She’d rather die than sleep with him?

An unmistakable flicker of irritation crossed his cold features. In one swift movement, he pushed her down onto the sofa, pinning her beneath him.

“Niamh,” he growled, his voice dangerously low, “would it really be so terrible to sleep with me?”

Realizing she was trapped, Niamh began to struggle instinctively.

“Niamh, are you doing this on purpose?” he asked, his voice softening as he fought to control the impulse surging through him. Even the coldness in his eyes began to thaw.

You know, he thought, I’m a highly eligible bachelor. Aside from the woman who saved me five years ago, you, Niamh, are the first woman I’ve ever wanted to be close to. So even if I did want to sleep with you, it wouldn’t be a loss for you.

With that thought, he closed his eyes and lowered his head, his lips aiming for hers.

“Blech—”

Just as he was about to kiss her, he heard a retching sound. His eyes snapped open to see Niamh’s face contorted, on the verge of being sick.

“Niamh, don’t! You’d better not!” he yelled, but it was too late. Before he could pull away, a torrent of vomit erupted from her mouth, spraying all over his chest.