Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Zain looked at him as though Aiden was a mildly interesting bug under his shoe. “I’ve been reliably informed that I top all those silly ‘most eligible bachelor in the country’ lists.”
Of course he did, the arrogant dick.
“That proves nothing,” Aiden said with a smile. “It just raises the likelihood that your date is a gold digger. I’m not sure who I feel sorry for: you or her. Probably her. Even a gold digger deserves better than you.”
“And what do I deserve?” Zain said.
“You deserve to die alone, buried with your precious money. I’m sure no one will even come to your funeral, because they will no longer be paid to tolerate you.”
“Is that so,” Zain said, and was that amusement in his eyes?
“Yep,” Aiden said, nodding earnestly. “You’re a horrible person, and your ridiculous wealth doesn’t help. I’ve always thought billionaires shouldn’t exist in a world that has so many starving people, and after meeting you I’m even more convinced that so much money can only turn a person into an asshole of epic proportions who thinks he can do anything without any consequences. Like, my parents are far from being poor, but the wealth you were born to is something else entirely. It clearly corrupted you.”
The asshole didn’t look fazed in the least, regarding Aiden with something like mild curiosity. “I hate to disappoint you, but I earned everything I have through hard work.”
Aiden laughed. “Right. You’re a fucking prince.”
Something shifted in Zain’s eyes. “I’m just a second son, and my father cut me off financially when I was seventeen.”
Aiden sat up straighter. “What? Why?”
Zain shrugged and reached for the door as the helicopter landed.
He got out, his gaze already on his phone.
Aiden scowled at his back, fighting a feeling of dissatisfaction. He never felt satisfied after his interactions with this man, unable to quash the feeling of utter insignificance. He wanted to run after Zain and yell at him, slap his chiseled, arrogant face, shove at him, and—and punch him, or something. Get his attention for real. Get under his skin. He wanted it so much. So much.
“Stay inside,” Zain threw over his shoulder, like a master ordering his dog to stay put.
The urge to obey was nearly irresistible.
Annoyed with himself, Aiden forced himself to move. He followed Zain out of the helicopter and looked around curiously. They were on a beach that looked picturesque and vaguely familiar, as if he’d seen it on the Internet. They had landed beside a lovely, fancy bungalow.
It looked like a love nest.
He couldn’t deny that he felt a perverse curiosity about what kind of woman Zain dated. In his mind, he imagined a skinny model, a barely legal pretty young thing with perfect fake tits and an equally perfect fake smile.
But the woman walking toward Zain was nothing like that.
She was attractive in a handsome way, her features a little harsh, her dark eyes glinting with obvious intelligence. She was also a lot older than Aiden had expected: she seemed quite a bit older than Zain, more likely in her forties than thirties. She was tall, elegant, and refined in a way that screamed confidence. This was a woman who knew her worth.
Aiden blinked, taken aback by the clothes she was wearing. Her attire was elegant and modest, but it was very much Western, no abaya or hijab in sight.
The woman said something to Zain, her curious gaze flicking to Aiden.
Zain’s answer was short, his tone clearly reluctant.
That didn’t seem to deter the woman. She turned to Aiden and smiled at him.
“You’re staring, darling,” she said, stretching her hand out for a handshake.
Aiden shook it, a little embarrassed that he was so easy to read. “Sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to stare. You’re just not what I expected.”
“I’m Salma Abadi,” the woman said, her eyes flashing with amusement. “Zain, where did you find this charming young man?”
“There’s no need for introductions,” Zain said, flicking his eyes to Aiden. “He’s not important.”
Aiden glowered at him and turned to Salma. “I’m—”
“No one,” Zain cut him off, stepping closer and laying a hand on his arm.
Aiden went still, his breath knocked out of his lungs. He stared blankly at the sun-bronzed fingers on his arm. Even though there were two layers of fabric separating them from his skin, the touch seemed searing.
“Get back in the helicopter,” Zain said.
His eyes were all Aiden could see, like dark pools of nothing, dragging him down into their abyss.
Clinging to his willpower, Aiden gulped and forced himself to shake his head. Fuck, what was happening to him? Why did he feel like this? Like it was impossible to disobey this man? Like he needed to obey him? He was losing his fucking mind.
“Don’t be rude, darling,” Salma said, clicking her tongue. “If you don’t want to introduce him to me, fine—but the poor boy doesn’t need to sit in your helicopter while we have fun.”