Millionaire Vs. Millionaire || мαℓιк || ѕєqυєℓ

Chapter 2 - Young and Reckless

Chapter 2; Young and Reckless

Zayn Malik's P.O.V. :

   "COME IN, Mr. Verico," I said, keeping a solemn face. It's difficult considering I had just finished opening the second package Max had sent me. She had sent me a lot of girly things 'with memories.' I had frantically stuffed everything back in the box when I realized I had to meet a new client in three minutes. Hopefully, it didn't look like I just had taken a girl on the table. Although I wouldn't mind doing that, if you catch my drift. 

   "Mr. Malik." I nod. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Mr. Verico says, shaking my hand. I take a seat on my leather computer chair. Mr. Verico takes a seat on the other side. His chair doesn't have wheels. I make an obvious point by spinning playfully on my chair. But he doesn't seem to notice. Oh, sorry, Mr. Grumpy Pants. "How old are ya?" He asks.

   "Twenty-two, going onto twenty-three in another six months," I answer, tapping my fingers on the desk. He seems slightly irritated by the drumming sounds, so I stop. Wow, everyone in the business is so serious. We need more fun people. Like Max. No, not now! Max is not part of this! She is in California! This is a serious meeting. Serious. 

   "You're quite young for a job like that, aren't you?" He asks, eyes hard and cold. Jeez, Louise. I didn't know being young and hot would be such a problem. "My son is twenty-six and he owns a furniture store. How do I know that's not plastic surgery done on you?"

   "Wow," I breathe. "I can assure you I am twenty-two. Age is just a number; you can achieve anything."

   "Alright, Malik." Mr. Verico nods. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, leaning back in my chair. "I don't trust young people in the business world. All young people are idiots nowadays." My eyes widen. I lean away from him. "You're a young and reckless billionaire -- I don't trust those. The last young billionaire went insane with all the money and is now in a rehab center. Point is, young people shouldn't be trusted with money." 

   Talk about creepy. I would say this guy is just flat out weird, but he's taken it to a whole different level. I mean, I trust myself to not go crazy with money. And if I do, I have friends to keep my grounded. They may be in another country, but they're still friends. Wow. The Zayn Malik actually has friends. OMG, this is so cool. Did I just say OMG? OMG, I need to stop texting Max. OMG.

    "Mr. Verico, I can assure you I'm not doing this for the money. Sure, I have bills to pay. But, sixty-five percent of my money goes to charities all over the world," I casually state, staring him straight in the eye. 

   His eyes drift down to the top of my black desk. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. I look down as well, eyes widening as I spot something that probably did make me some like a stupid youngster. Mr. Verico looks back at me. I squirm in my seat, trying my best to act normal. "What is that, Mr. Malik?" He points.

   I swipe the pink hair clip off the table. "It's, uh. . ." I mumble, twirling the plastic clip between my fingers. Think, Zayn! "It's something I'm trying out. . ." I answer, taking the clip and sliding it just above my ear and pinning the hair back. "Yeah."

   "Okay. . ." Mr. Verico mumbles, standing up again. He sticks his hand out, gesturing for me to shake it. I take it and quickly shake it. Anything to save me from more embarrassment. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Malik." I nod, mumbling under my breath.