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)
The toxic longing that twisted up his insides at the mere memory of Aiden’s warm smile made Zain grimace and bring the bottle back to his lips.
Damn it. It seemed he wasn’t drunk enough yet for the alcohol to dull this bullshit, this idiotic yearning he didn’t seem able to eradicate, no matter how many months it had been.
This isn’t real. It’ll pass. I don’t need you.
Zain threw the bottle away in disgust.
He watched dispassionately as the bottle fell until he could no longer see it from the penthouse. Hopefully he hadn’t killed someone with it. It would be funny—and somewhat ironic—if he ended up in jail for that, after behaving like a sodomite for a year.
Running a hand over his unshaven jaw, Zain stared blankly at the Dubai skyline.
This was useless.
Utterly useless.
This pathetic behavior wasn’t him. In fact, it was everything he despised. He was behaving little better than his father had around his mother’s death: he drank too much, he neglected his business, he obsessed over the loss of one person and neglected all the others in his life. Had he paid any attention to his family, Gadiel wouldn’t have run off with the fucking bodyguard Zain had hired to keep him in line. The only sins Zain hadn’t committed compared to his father were beating his sons and sleeping around. The former was impossible for lack of any sons. As for the latter, he couldn’t summon a flicker of interest in fucking someone who wasn’t Aiden, his own wife included. He didn’t want anyone other than Aiden.
Zain pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
Enough.
He’d tried waiting it out. But it had been four months since Aiden had been stolen—taken away from him. A month since he’d last seen him.
If this thing was ever going to pass, it would have passed by now. He shouldn’t have still been avoiding his own house, hating it for the Aiden-shaped hole in every room, hating it for seeming empty and dark without Aiden’s light and laughter, hating it for not even feeling like home anymore. He shouldn’t have forbidden his lawful wife from entering the house he considered theirs—his and Aiden’s. Farah didn’t take issue with it—she was a quiet girl who seemed scared shitless of him. She seemed content to live by herself in one of Zain’s numerous apartments, ignored by her husband.
He had no idea what she even looked like. He hadn’t even seen her without her niqāb. He had no desire to. The only person he wanted was the one he wasn’t allowed to want.
This isn’t real. It’ll pass. I don’t need you. Stop ruining my life.
Zain closed his eyes. He’d tried to be the better man. He had. He’d given Aiden space when Aiden’s mafioso of a brother-in-law had sent his people to tell him that Aiden was with his family and never wanted to be bothered again. It helped that at the time Zain had still had some hope that this was a passing fancy and he’d forget the boy and eradicate his unwelcome feelings. He’d even married Al Sharabi’s daughter to give himself an extra incentive to stay away from Aiden. Back then, he had still thought he could go back to his old life pre-Aiden.
His self-delusion had lasted until Aiden’s call. Just hearing his sweet, familiar voice had shattered his self-control. Seeing Aiden again, seeing his tears, had destroyed what was left of it. Had they not been interrupted by Aiden’s parents, Zain knew he would have kissed Aiden right there in broad daylight, in a public place, Aiden’s bodyguards be damned. He had been this close to grabbing Aiden and taking him with him—until Aiden’s words had sobered him up.
This isn’t real. It’ll pass. I don’t need you. Stop ruining my life.
It had felt like Aiden had reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart hard. He’d felt crushed—and like he’d been transported back in time. He was suddenly eight again, a needy, pathetic boy whose affections weren’t welcome. Weren’t wanted.
Go away. I have no son.
Zain grimaced, pushing the memory back. He hadn’t thought of it in years. He hadn’t been that boy in decades. A boy desperate for his mother’s love. A boy who’d grown to hate that need, who’d learned to lock it away when his mother stopped even recognizing him and looked at him with distrust and suspicion.
As an adult, he knew his mother couldn’t help it. It was the dementia. But a child wouldn’t understand it. A child would feel crushed by the constant rejection of his affections by his favorite person in the world. A child would learn to stop carrying his heart on his sleeve. To stop caring. To stop needing.
He wasn’t that child anymore. But Aiden’s rejection had brought it all back.
So he had left. If it wasn’t real for Aiden, it could be not real for him as well.