After that night, something changed. Or maybe it was all in Aiden’s head.
That mocking owner shouldn’t have changed anything, but the word, once said, seemed to be constantly present in the room with them, like a giant pink elephant impossible to ignore.
Owner.
Owner owner owner.
Aiden now felt very self-conscious, acutely aware that Zain owned him. This man really could do anything to him. He’d known that already—rationally—but the owner somehow had made it so much more real.
“Gadiel wants to meet up with you,” Zain said, breaking the silence that had fallen ever since Aiden came to the dining room.
Aiden looked up—met the chocolate-brown, piercing gaze—and swallowed. “He’s coming?” His voice came out more high-pitched than he would have liked.
“No,” Zain said. “He wants to meet you on neutral ground.” His lips curled slightly, his eyes glimmering with wry amusement. “He said he wants you to feel comfortable in his presence when you talk.”
“So he does have some human decency,” Aiden said.
Zain took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t be naive. It basically means that he’s accepting my conditions but wants to assuage his conscience first. To pat himself on the back for being a good person.”
“Have you always been such a cynic?” Aiden said, even though he couldn’t say he disagreed with him this time. If Gadiel truly were a good person, he would refuse to use a person who had been bought for him, period.
“I’m not a cynic,” Zain said. “I’m a realist.”
Scoffing, Aiden rolled his eyes. “So, you’re taking me to Dubai?” His heart sped up at the thought. Dubai meant a chance to escape.
“Yes. But don’t get too excited.” Zain looked at him steadily. “I’ll keep an eye on you, always.”
Aiden’s stomach clenched, that weird self-consciousness making itself known again. Owner.
“What, you’re going to be the third wheel?” he said, clearing his throat a little and chuckling. “That would be a tad awkward, wouldn’t it?”
Zain heaved a sigh. “Considering the rumors, Gadiel can’t be seen alone with an attractive man. My presence would eliminate any suspicion. Don’t look so excited. I’m hardly excited to waste my time on this, either.”
“Fine,” Aiden said. Frankly, he didn’t mind that Zain would be there. His presence would make Gadiel behave. He had no idea what to expect from Gadiel. At least Zain was familiar. “Where are we going to meet him?” He glanced down at his clothes. “Can I go there in these clothes? I don’t exactly have anything fancy.” Zain’s people had brought him some clothes, but they were simple and didn’t fit all that well.
Zain frowned and looked him over. “We’ll meet Gadiel at a restaurant. You’ll need to change into something decent.” He stood and headed out of the room. “Come.”
A little confused, Aiden followed him. Only halfway to Zain’s room did he realize that he hadn’t even questioned Zain’s order. That was more than a little alarming. Surely he hadn’t already been brainwashed into thinking that this man could order him around, right? Right?
Aiden had still been mulling it over when they finally reached Zain’s room.
Zain strode over to the walk-in closet and opened it. “Pick something to wear. My clothes will be a little big for you but should be better than what you have.”
Aiden entered the closet, fully expecting to see rows upon rows of traditional Arabic clothes, but while there really were plenty of them, an entire section of the closet was dedicated to regular clothes he was used to. Granted, upon examining them, Aiden had to revise his opinion. There was nothing regular about these clothes. Everything here was designer and ridiculously expensive. But of course it was.
Aiden stared at those sharp suits and suddenly imagined Zain putting them on: buttoning up a shirt, buttoning the cuffs, his long tawny fingers making quick work of the buttons before knotting a tie around his tanned neck.
Biting his lip, Aiden shook the weird thought off—why was he even thinking about such inane things?—and reached for a blue shirt and one of the gray suits.
Aiden quickly changed and examined himself in the mirror.
Zain had been right: while the suit was clearly made for a taller, bigger man, he still looked… good. People would obviously be able to tell that he’d borrowed someone else’s clothes if they paid attention, but he wouldn’t stand out in a fancy restaurant as much as he would in his T-shirt and sweatpants.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about wearing Zain’s clothes though. The mere thought made his stomach squirm funnily. It made him… uncomfortable, reminding him of the owner and what the word made him feel. Wearing Zain’s clothes felt like another mark of ownership. Zain’s ownership. Him being Zain’s.
Christ, why was he fixating on it so much?
“Hurry up,” came Zain’s impatient voice from outside the closet. “I have business in the city before our meeting with my brother. You have half a minute.”
“Half a—I’m ready, Jesus!” Aiden said with a scoff, striding out of the closet. “Why are you always so bossy? And what kind of business can you possibly have on a weekend?”
Zain didn’t reply, just looking at him strangely.
“What?” Aiden said, glancing down at himself. “I thought I looked pretty good?”
“You look passable,” Zain said, already turning away and striding out of the room. “Let’s go.”
Aiden glowered at the back of his head all the way to the helicopter. Even being allowed to go outside for the first time in what seemed like forever barely registered. Passable? No one had ever called his looks passable. Aiden might not have liked his pretty-boy looks growing up, but he knew he looked objectively good. But of course His Highness wasn’t impressed.
“Is there a reason you’re attempting to bore a hole in me with your eyes?” Zain said a few minutes after the helicopter took off.
“What’s your business in the city?” Aiden said, quashing the bizarre urge to demand that Zain admit he looked good. He didn’t even know why the passable comment bothered him so much. He’d never fished for compliments in his life. Christ, what was going on here?
“I have a date, but I’ll have to cut it short to chaperone you and Gadiel.”
Aiden stared at him. “You have a date?”
Zain raised his eyebrows. “Why are you surprised? You know I’m no virgin. Did you expect me to keep a harem of concubines instead of dating?”
Aiden chewed on his lip. He wasn’t even sure what he had expected. But the thought of Zain dating someone was just… bizarre. Unfathomable. Wrong for reasons he couldn’t even explain.
“I just can’t imagine anyone actually wanting to spend time with you,” Aiden said. “The mind positively boggles. She must be a gold digger. Or a doormat. Or most likely, both.”
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.”
Have fun? What the hell did that mean? Surely they weren’t going to… fuck, right?
“Aw, he’s adorable,” Salma said. “I absolutely insist that he come inside. That’s not up to you, Zain. I can invite into my house whoever I want.”
“Not him,” Zain said curtly. “If I say he stays put, he stays put.”
Aiden’s stomach squirmed.
Salma gave Zain a strange look. “You’re acting bizarre, darling.” She added something in Arabic, her tone partly bewildered, partly amused.
All she got in response was a flat look from Zain. She said something again, which prompted a terse answer, irritation coming off Zain in tangible waves. After a moment, he looked at Aiden. “Wait for me in the helicopter. I won’t be long.” He allowed Salma to lead him toward the house.
Aiden followed them with his eyes, an odd feeling settling in his stomach. His gaze shifted to Salma’s slim, manicured fingers on Zain’s bicep. Were they lovers? She certainly acted very familiar with him.
Aiden imagined them in bed together, both of them tall and long limbed, Zain’s muscular form on top of her soft, pliant body, his muscles flexing as he thrust hard into—
Right.
Aiden looked away, his cheeks warm and his borrowed pants suddenly tight. It weirded him out. He wasn’t really the type to fantasize about real people having sex. It had never been his thing. He had no idea why he’d just so vividly imagined Zain and Salma having sex. She was an attractive woman, but she was twice his age, for fuck’s sake. It was a little weird. Scratch that, it was a lot weird.
And why the hell was he doing as Zain said? He might have agreed to cooperate, but he wasn’t Zain’s slave. Zain didn’t fucking own him.
Decision made, Aiden strode toward the house the couple had disappeared into. The bungalow’s door wasn’t locked. He pushed it open quietly.
There was soft, relaxing music playing in the room. The lights were dimmed, adding to the atmosphere of intimacy and relaxation.
Zain was sprawled in the armchair. Salma was behind him, her hands on his neck. She was massaging Zain’s neck and shoulders, speaking softly in Arabic. Her voice was low, kind, and friendly. Her touch was very familiar, like she’d done this hundreds of times.
Aiden watched the scene from the doorway, mesmerized by what he was seeing. He’d never seen Zain look so relaxed. He always seemed to carry a certain tension with him, a tightly coiled energy, as if he was about to spring into action. This time the tension was absent.
Zain’s eyes were heavy-lidded and soon enough they closed completely as her fingers moved into his dark hair, massaging his scalp. It looked…
Salma said something, and Zain murmured what sounded like assent. Her slim fingers unbuttoned his thobe and helped Zain shrug out of it, leaving him bare-chested, smooth skin rippling over his muscles as he settled back into the chair.
When Aiden dragged his eyes up, he met Salma’s gaze. There was something like curiosity in her eyes. “Your boy is here, darling,” she said in English, her fingers still working their magic.
Zain’s eyelids lifted. Dark eyes stared at Aiden with an expression he couldn’t quite place.
Aiden suddenly felt like he was the one half-naked and vulnerable.
“I’m not his boy,” Aiden said belatedly. “Don’t call me that.”
“Well, pardon me for not choosing a more appropriate word,” Salma said with an amused smile. “I would have, if Zain bothered to introduce you instead of treating you like his possession.”
Aiden’s stomach clenched, and the feeling got worse when he looked back into Zain’s eyes.
“You were ordered to stay put,” Zain said, tension returning to his body. The muscles of his arms flexed slightly, as if he made an aborted move to get up but thought better of it.
“I’m not a thing to be ordered about,” Aiden said. “I’m not going to wait for you like a good little boy while you get massaged and pampered like a king. Let’s go. We have places to be.”
Salma laughed. “Oh, this is priceless! I like him, Zain. You need more people around you who don’t put up with your bossy ways.”
Throwing her an annoyed look, Zain got to his feet, all smooth grace and tightly restrained energy. He quickly got dressed, his eyes fixed on Aiden in a manner that was slightly unnerving. Slightly.
Saying something in Arabic over his shoulder, Zain strode forward and settled a heavy hand on Aiden’s back. “Walk.”
Aiden walked.
They walked in silence to the helicopter. Aiden resented the arrogant, proprietary way Zain’s hand felt on his back, and his insides were twisted up into a tight knot that was part-anticipation, part-trepidation, and part-glee. It might be fucked-up, but he was… pleased that he’d spoiled Zain’s fun with his woman, and he didn’t even mind all that much that Zain was going to punish him for that—and for his disobedience. It was worth it. Annoying and inconveniencing that dick was worth anything.
Zain spoke only once the helicopter took off.
“Massage is one of the few things that help my headaches,” he said. “And thanks to you, I still have one.”
Giving him an innocent look, Aiden smiled. “I’m sorry? I would offer to give you a massage, but I don’t know the first thing about them.”
Zain regarded him for a moment. “You’ll have to make up for it another way, then,” he said in a quiet voice.
Aiden’s mouth went dry. His heart started beating somewhere in his throat. He stared at Zain, painfully aware of him—the distance between their bodies—in a way he’d never been aware of another person in his life.
“What do you mean?” he managed.
Was this going where he thought it was going? He was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the thick tension in the air, the cruel glint in those dark eyes. Zain wanted to punish him. He wanted to make him regret his insolence. Zain was going to make him do something. Something disgusting and humiliating. Like… Like make him suck his cock.
Suck his cock.
The idea made Aiden’s heart race with—with indignation and disgust. He was already mentally preparing arguments when the other man finally replied.
“Shutting up and being quiet will be a start.”
Aiden blinked at him, flushed and wound up from the confrontation that hadn’t happened.
Right.
Why had his mind immediately jumped to being forced to suck Zain’s cock? It had been stupid of him to expect Zain to behave that way. The guy was probably homophobic, like the majority of people in this country. He wasn’t going to suddenly want head from a man. Which was great. Fantastic. Aiden didn’t have to worry about being molested and forced to suck Zain’s cock.
His own cock twitched in his pants.
Aiden took in a deep breath, trying not to freak out.
Okay. He was a healthy twenty-one-year-old guy. The semi he was sporting didn’t have to mean anything. And it definitely didn’t mean that he found the idea of being forced to suck this asshole’s cock in any way arousing. That would be—weird. Aiden had always been open-minded, but he’d never been into rape fantasies. He really didn’t judge people who were—whatever floated their boats—but it just wasn’t his thing. At all. But it looked like now he was going to have to reevaluate that opinion.
Unless it was a Zain thing rather than the forced sex thing.
No way, Aiden told himself vehemently. That would actually be far worse than a questionable kink. He refused to believe that he could be attracted to that asshole. Refused.
Nope.
Just nope.
