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The churning discomfort of the jealousy was eased slightly by the look of pure, undiluted shock on Shawn’s face as her gaze fell on me.

Her mouth actually gaped for a second before she squeezed her lips shut.

“Shawn, fancy seeing you here,” I said, passing her a champagne flute that manners made her reach for even though she clearly didn’t want to. And just because I knew she was already thinking that I’d dosed her drink, I raised my flute for a toast.

“Shawn, it’s rude not to drink,” the man beside her chided, reaching for the drink himself.

“No! Don’t drink that!” she shrieked just low enough not to cause a scene.

“Why are you being so strange?” the man asked, frowning at her as he took a sip of the champagne, making Shawn’s eyes go round. “I’m sorry. Shawn forgot her manners. I’m Nasir. Nasir Saeed.”

“Saeed. Of Saeed Jewels?” I asked, interest piqued.

“Yes,” Nasir said, chest puffing a bit, proud of the connection. As he should be. The company had been making a name for itself for decades, but even more so the past ten or so years.

And, suddenly, things were falling into place.

The diamonds at Shawn’s ears.

The fact that she’d said she was a part-time model.

A jewelry model, perhaps?

Was that how she’d met Nasir?

It all seemed to make a lot of sense.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name,” Nasir said, shooting Shawn a hard look, a silent reproach.

“Bellamy,” I supplied, waiting for him to put the pieces together. Everyone who grew up rich, as Nasir must have done, knew me by name and reputation. You didn’t even need my last name.

“Oh, right, of course,” Nasir said, nodding, giving me a smile. While Shawn watched him with drawn-together brows, likely wanting to be in on the secret.

But I was going to make her wait for it.

“Are your parents here tonight, Nasir? I haven’t seen them in ages.”

“They will be. They are running a little late. They just got in from Paris.”

“I just dealt with some pretty bad jet lag myself, so I understand. I barely made it here myself.”

“Where were you coming from?” Nasir asked.

“The Maldives,” I said, watching as Shawn winced.

“Really? That is a coincidence. Shawn just got in from the Maldives a few days ago. Ran into a hassle when she lost all her identification.”

“That’s unfortunate. How did you handle that?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light even if I’d been dying to learn that information since I’d woken up on the villa floor with her long gone.

“It’s amazing how accommodating people can be when they find a woman in distress,” Shawn said, lifting her chin, refusing to give me the information I clearly wanted from her.

“You should have called me,” Nasir said, shaking his head.

“I can take care of myself,” Shawn said, shrugging.

“You’re being strange,” Nasir declared, frowning at her. “Did you two run into each other in the Maldives?” he asked. “Is that how you know each other?”

“Unfortunately, we did,” Shawn said, getting wide eyes from Nasir.

“You’re being rude, Shawn,” he told her in a hiss.

“No, no. It’s fine. Sometimes I don’t leave the best first impressions.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Shawn said, her words making my lips twitch, liking a peek at the woman she really was under the gown and makeup.

“Shawn!” Nasir snapped, clearly horrified. “Bellamy, please excuse my cousin,” Nasir said, shaking his head. “She’s feral.”

“Your cousin,” I said, barely able to stop the smile as it tugged at my lips.

The relief was like a cool wave washing through my system, making me realize just how upset I’d been about the whole situation.

“Nasir, would you mind if I borrowed your cousin for a moment?” I asked.

“Ah, hello. I’m not his property. You don’t ask him for permission to speak to me.”

“Shawn,” Nasir grumbled, tone pleading. But one hard look from her let him know that she wasn’t going to start pretending just for appearances sake. So he went ahead and pretended that someone else was waving him over, leaving me alone with his cousin.

“So, Shawn Saeed, hm?” I asked, smirking at her as I raised my flute for a sip. “Interesting that you failed to mention that you yourself are rich when lambasting me about being well off.”

“My family is rich. I am comfortable,” Shawn insisted, lifting her chin.

“Yeah? And that isn’t a cool five grand in each ear?” I asked, brow raising.

“I don’t own them. I designed them,” she said, then winced. Like she hadn’t meant to confess that part.

“Oh,” I said, feeling triumphant. “Is that so? Not a part-time model then? You liar,” I added, tssking my tongue.

“Because I would be the egregious one in this dynamic,” she said, motioning between us, “telling a tiny little lie. Except you’re wrong. It wasn’t a lie. I have, as my aunt puts it, ‘elegant’ hands. So I model the rings when they don’t have anyone else to do it.”

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