Chetan Bhagat Novel Novels & Stories

" ​Twisting around, Henri faced his guest. Matthew Smith—corporate raider, self-made millionaire, and currently inquisitive nuisance—was helping himself to a bowl of nuts he’d scavenged from the bar. ​"My assistant," Henri said, swirling the amber whiskey in his glass. ​Matthew had arrived promptly at eleven. The blond, Toronto-born millionaire was never late, and like a predator catching a faint scent, he had cocked his head the moment he spotted Elizabeth nearly in Henri's arms. As she had whispered her goodbye, Henri’s own instincts had flared, signaling that she didn’t truly want to leave. ​But when "The Vagabond of Toronto"—as the press had dubbed Matthew—said he’d deliver, he delivered

~SHARON “Good! A pathetic soul like you should just do as they’re told.” He spat, and the second he let go, I fell to the floor, gasping for air. He turned to leave, and that’s when I blurted it out. “I can’t do this anymore. I want out. Give me what you owe me, and you’ll never see me again.” He stopped and turned to look at me, a nasty smile on his face. “I owe you sweet nothing, so leaving me means you’ll be on the streets.” He said and walked out the door.

Talking to her always had that effect on him. It had been six years since they had met again at business school, and yet every conversation still left him feeling strangely warm inside. Daniel stood and walked toward the large window overlooking the glittering skyline. From the outside, his life looked perfect. Daniel Carter. The youngest billionaire in the city. The heir and current head of the Carter Conglomerate. Yet his name rarely appeared in the media. His face had never been published in the news. He preferred it that way. And most importantly…

The stench of booze and depression wafted all over the air which made his nose twitch, “You’re a billionaire Santiago, you can afford housekeeping.” Justin, rolling his eyes, “You want the apartment, you can have it.” “Really?” The detective’s eyes widened for a moment. Justin ignored him, walking towards the kitchen where his concoction was slowly melting away. Diaz couldn’t help but stare at pity the CEO, a vast difference from his rigidly arrogant aura from his Wikipedia photos. The man was probably rich enough to feed multiple families for a lifetime but he was still miserable, Diaz couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

It’s better to have my ears talked off than to become the next hot topic on the Upper East Side. “Thank you, Mrs. Chelsea,” I murmur, stepping into the car. Chad takes my suitcase and put it in the trunk, and I settle into the plush seat beside Mrs. Chelsea. She pats my hand with a triumphant smile. “There we are, dear. Now, tell me all about what’s happening with you and Nate.” I take a deep breath, steeling myself. This is going to be a long ride.

A sad smile played on his lips as he began to recount the past. "During my studies, I came to Pakistan for my cousin’s wedding. Then..." he trailed off, lost in his memories. Hasan had come to Pakistan during his studies, attending his cousin’s wedding. His cousins had taken him around the city, and eventually, they led him to a place called Amma Bibi’s. The atmosphere there was strange to him—the women chewed betel leaves, their clothes a riot of bright colors, and they stared at him and his cousins as they climbed the stairs.

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And that I was a good person both on the inside and on the outside? Even with my wealth, I was ready to be humble if my future husband, the one who would love me for me, had nothing of wealth himself. I do not care about money. I care about the heart indeed. In that motive, Natasha has linked me up with a man from her college. Since Natasha was a nerd while in school, she had a study group where they all studied for tests and examinations together, and they all came out in flying colors together. “Micah is a good guy and always respectful. You can give him a try,” Natasha said to me. And which was why it led us here.

“Is that all you rich assholes ever think of? Throwing your damn money on whatever you deem attainable? Whatever you think has a price tag?” I knew I was stepping on shaky ground, but I couldn’t help myself. I had no idea how one dealt with a billionaire like this Mr. J. Maxwell. I knew suddenly and with trepidation, however, that I was doing it wrong the moment I saw the dark look in his eyes and the stern expression on his handsome features.

he heard her say with a giggle as she disappeared into the house. Jayant squinted. Sweetheart? Does Maahiji have an American boyfriend? Nah, he shook his head as if warding off the insane possibility physically. Must be some girlfriend. Rich people talk to each other like this only, don't they? Maahiji knew better than to string some pansy-ass firang to his death, considering she comes with a deadly baggage named Kunal Ranjan Vaghela. In fact, should he himself meddle? Jayant worried about his own ass which would be very sorry if things don't pan out as he is hoping.