Fuck.
Not being able to control how I felt was unlike me.
Adelaide’s a beautiful woman.
Running a hand across my jaw, even a dead man’s dick would fucking wake up from witnessing Adelaide’s beauty.
Fucking hell.
Resisting my ex-girlfriend was proving to be harder than I thought.
Figuratively andliterally.
“The money’s been sent?”
The girl with the bright blue hijab draped loosely over her head stared back at me with skepticism etched on every corner of her face. Ayeza Ali sat rigid on the couch and drank the hot liquid from the teacup. A subtle aroma of cardamom pursed through the air around us.
Whenever I moved, she flinched. Her eyes sauntered over to the open front door.
“I’m sorry about that night,” I said.
She placed the cup down. “Please eat something.”
The assortment of butter cookies looked incredible, but I refused. Straightening the lapels of my jacket and grunting from the squeak of her couch. “Do you have the recording?”
Time didn’t stand by and wait for the world to catch up, I needed to make sure she had no remaining evidence on her.
She cleared her throat with an unamused chuckle. “Subtlety isn’t your strong point, I see.” It took her a minute to meet my gaze, but she looked down when she did.
“I sent the recording to Mr. Taimoor.”
Ayeza shifted in her seat, playing with the hem of her shalwar kameez. Her fingers tightened around the fabric and her forehead perspired with sweat when I stood.
Walking towards the door, I hid my hands in the pockets of my pants. Waiting a minute, then two… precisely three before she calmed down.
“Can’t I just sign the papers?”
“Of course.” I used my head to direct towards the folder. “I need you to also tell me you won’t tell anyone the truth about this.”
She picked it off the table. “What if people find out? What ifMs. Mikaelfinds out?”
“I don’t want you to worry about that. Focus on taking care of yourself,” I fisted my hands in my pockets.
The moment of silence where she read the NDA, I looked around hole covered ceilings that were covered with masking tape.
Osama was right. She lived in a shitty neighbourhood where people got caught doing the most questionable fucking things. In some ways, I took advantage of her misery but there were legal forms and written consents, and she was aware of what she had to do.Then why the fuck did I feel terrible about it?
Helping people was expensive. There was no such thingas pure kindness or empathy—those were masks, a facade for people who didn’t understand the realities of this world. I was a bastard. I was mean. But I wasn’t inhuman. Hence, helping Ayeza out.I bet God is somewhere out there, begrudgingly writing this good deed down.
“I would recommend staying out of the public’s eyes for a little while. They’ll want to talk to you about what happened and find a way to put words in your mouth.”
Her eyes simmered with anger and pain. “What about the emails from Ms. Mikael?”
For fucks sake, Adelaide couldn’t talk to a group of reporters without getting eaten by the cameras and their lack of etiquette.
People believing it was her left an ugly flavour in my mouth that tasted awfully like wet cement.
Starlight’s board members had been doing this for many years. They were smart men with a highly intelligent woman standing behind them.
