Novel & Cerita Age Of Arrogance Novel

Alpha Levi suddenly looked up from the window, sneering at the words in the book, showing contempt. Arista’s mouth twitched, immediately realizing that he... was mocking how foolish the book’s author was, then secretly sneering at them. For someone who favored absolute violence like him, morality in books was like a mud puddle underground, not worth a penny. She didn’t look at him anymore, focusing on practicing walking. Actually, while Arista observed Levi, he also occasionally glanced up at her.

"...that in these 30 years of being your husband, I can feel how you melt with my touch. And take note, I've always caught you drooling over this body." "Oh, goodness!" I couldn't help rolling my eyes. I already imagined him saying those things...again! Well, he always does and let me tell you, that's his favorite dialogue. I bit my lip to stifle my laugh. If there's one thing that hasn't changed in him, it's his being so arrogant that he turned out to be a narcissist over time. "Come on, Sophia Kelley, don't deny it. I know how you always wanted to touch me and if I didn't know, you just always restrained yourself because you're afraid that the kids might be caught you."

With a suppressed sigh, I allowed myself to be pulled along. After walking through several streets, we stopped in front of an immense villa. The sheer extravagance of the place was overwhelming, and I finally understood the source of Arlette's strong confidence. Wealth often bred arrogance, creating the illusion that anything one desired would be handed to them on a silver platter. I struggled to hide the distaste I felt for this attitude.

Whoever was coming had them all on edge, which could only mean one thing. The boss is here. The door opened, and there he was, arrogance radiating off him like heat from the sun. Everything about him—the smug tilt of his head, the faint smirk on his lips—made my blood boil. He dismissed the men with a single snap of his fingers, and they obeyed without hesitation. He walked slowly towards me, spilling out some nonsense. “You know I could have you arrested for kidnapping,” I said, my voice sharp. He laughed, a deep, mocking sound that echoed in the room. “And I could have you arrested for trying to flee the country with my child,” he countered smoothly.

Xavier’s leather jacket—yes, his—hung casually over her shoulders like a trophy. She was fire, and everyone was getting burned. Behind her, Amara struggled to keep up, her arms full of textbooks and a nervous expression on her face. “Arielle,” she whispered urgently, trying not to trip over her own feet, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Arielle smirked, eyes straight ahead. “It’s not a good idea. It’s a brilliant one.” She stopped in front of the senior locker zone, where Xavier and his arrogant, rich clique were lounging like gods on Mount Olympus. The laughter stopped the moment they saw her.

He shook it off, vainly, tucking strands behind his ears. His cheekbones were sharp; his jaws tightly set. His upper body looked entirely sculpted like a Greek Adonis. It was hard to estimate his age but he couldn’t be more than eighteen. I froze when his blazing gray eyes locked onto mine, lazily. “Baby girl, if you’re trying to kill yourself, there are prettier ways to die,” he said in an amused voice. He reeked of arrogance. That over-confidence that came from knowing that he was hot.

Across the street, a group of people were there, existing like they owned the world. One of them, the loudest among them, leaned against a sleek car, keys spinning around his finger. [Target Detected] High Arrogance Sensitivity Potential Reward Multiplier: ×3 Adam's pulse spiked. He wasn't sure why he even considered a random hallucination to be true. He wasn't even sure why he wasn't much shocked at what he saw. "You've got to be kidding me." He had ten minutes to convince one person that he was richer. That he was better and that he belonged above them.

The arrogance vanished, replaced by something cold. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. “You think she’s better than me?” That was the real wound. Not heartbreak. Pride. Amara didn’t care about love. She cared about winning. About being chosen. And I had just chosen Aria. “You’re beautiful, I’ll give you that,” I shook my head at my own foolishness. “Just as a cactus is beautiful, but only from afar. Touch it and you’re life becomes living hell. And right now…you’re that cactus I never should’ve touched.”

I said. "I'll accept the accusation." We moved slowly. There wasn't much space, but Julian didn't need much. He guided me across the living room and after a few seconds I stopped worrying about where my feet were supposed to go. "You're surprisingly good at this," I said. "Surprisingly?" "You're arrogant." "What does arrogance have to do with dancing?" "I haven't figured that out yet."

Max's mother's gaze dodged for a moment and hugged, "Don't talk nonsense, I don't have much in mind Max's gaze was cold and he said, "Still lying Max's mother was staring at her son with a guilty heart and snorted, "Max, am I an elder or are you an elder? Are you just talking to me like this When you are arrogant, you don't respect your old age. When you are feeling guilty, you rely on your old age to sell your old age