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"Oh, darling. You can't fix yourself by breaking someone else."
Every young woman wants to marry Aryan Sheikh, the young, handsome Prince and a self-made businessman. His eyes are set on Yasmin Omer, the girl who has re...
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Seine River – 7th December 2014
CLAIR DE LUNE, the French called it as the ribbon was cut under one of the brightest moonlight ever shone on the Seine River. That night the city of light had lived up to the most common nickname and created an unforgettable memory to be cherished.
The Azar family exclusive yacht turned the eyes of Parisians and tourists each time it went under a bridge. The golden hull and the clear gloss Matterhorn white for the upper deck made it stood out on the dark green water if the loud partying youngsters are not taken into consideration.
What were they celebrating again? Never mind because they did not need an excuse to blow money up.
Niyah Azar chilled in one of the seven's master suites by the window, sipping on a frappe coffee with shredded Kit Kat chocolate on top (as per her order), a John Green book of first edition opened at page fifty five and watching the view. Unlike the chattering guests' upstairs drinking red wine or hot coffee to keep warm from the minimum temperature, the cold did not nag her.
"Why is it not opening?"
She turned her eyes towards the knob being moved at an angle of ninety-degrees, hearing two drunken voices, one male and one female.
"This one's locked. Let's see the other one."
"Come on, are they all locked?"
"That's not possible. There should be at least one we can use."
Niyah smirked. There's no way she'll allow these immature fools to dirty the expensive beds or walls with their body fluids. After all Clair de lune is an expensive asset whose responsibility has landed on her shoulders. Till now she's among the very few who has been a big example of a dignified and elegant youngster from the third generation.
"This is boring."
"We should not have come here."
"Are you crazy? Refuse an Azar invitation once and you're banned forever. They are very exclusive," said the girl with a diva accent.
Niyah could care less who were they even though they were about ninety percent right.
Operating Azar Corporation a weapon company recognized worldwide is not an easy task. Her father, whose house she left four years ago, has always been right. Azar family is full of dark secrets and few members have a kind heart.
Their paternal grandmother Amaya Azar welcomed them with opened arms. Since that day, they earned a high spot through hard work, bravery and intelligence. The others, who were born in Paris, spent the childhood and teenage years the perfect way always looked down upon them.
Yet it did not take long to figure out that messing with Niyah Azar is equal to triggering an avalanche.
Placing a DIY galaxy bookmark at the next chapter to be read, she closed the book. She then re touched her make up with the latest L'Oréal Paris and MAC cosmetics sent to her from the companies head directors along with a note and bouquet for their favorite client. She made her way up through the serpentine oak staircase upon which her Alexander McQueen pumps with low heels still resonated on contact.
