Page 22 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

Adeela’s head is bowed, something that, inexplicably, irritates me. It reminds me of our first meeting, when she wouldn’t look me in the eye.

Then I glance at Jazmina, and from the hard look on her face, I know they heard everything I just said.

Chapter 11

I have nothing to do with this. Whatever Prince Kaled does with his life, even if there’s a line of girlfriends waiting for him, is none of my business,I repeat to myself over and over in silence.

Still, a strange, unpleasant feeling, one I’ve never experienced before, rises inside me, a sort of bitterness that makes me wish I hadn’t overheard that conversation.

I knew we should have waited for him to approach us, but Jazmina, with her usual impulsiveness, ended up putting us in an awkward situation, making us witness the prince’s private moment.

“You could’ve spared us that,” my friend scolds, with absolutely no right to—after all, we’re the ones who invaded his personal space.

“I would have, if you weren’t so nosy. Ever heard of giving someone privacy when they’re on the phone?”

Despite his thunderous voice, he doesn’t seem angry, and I finally allow myself to breathe again. The last thing we need isfor him to regret bringing us here and decide to send us back to Rheadur.

Jazmina walks up to her brother, and he opens his arms to her.

Kaled is so strong. So tall. So powerful.

What would it feel like to be held by him?

My face burns, and I lower my gaze.

“That’s not how you treat a girlfriend,” my friend scolds, because she definitely doesn’t know when to stop.

“She wasn’t my girlfriend.”

“I don’t want to hear that.”

“Then stay out of it.”

“Enough! We’re making a terrible impression on Adeela. Come meet my friend.”

Jazmina steps out of his arms and moves aside, and her brother walks closer to me.

I’m nervous, unsure what to do.

“Oh, but we’ve already met,” he says. “I saw you both dance, remember?”

I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole. I risk a glance upward, but what I see makes me look down again.

One corner of his mouth lifts in a near-smile, and, if that’s even possible, it makes him even more handsome.

No wonder that woman, Ingrid, didn’t want to let him go.

“Anyway,” my friend continues, apparently unaware of her brother’s teasing tone, “you two still need a proper introduction. Kaled, this is my dearest friend, Adeela. Be good to her, because I love her more than our blood sisters. Adeela, this is my brother, Prince Kaled. You can dislike him now while he’s still not sheikh, but hurry, time’s running out. Once he is, we’ll have to pretend we adore him.”

For the first time, I find the courage to look at more than just his face.

He’s wearing Western clothes: a navy-blue suit with a vest, gray tie, and white shirt.

Once, Jazmina told me that Kaled floats between two worlds, feeling equally at home in both Eastern and Western cultures. Now I understand what she meant. He looks perfectly comfortable, dressed like one of those businessmen who sometimes visit our country, and just as handsome in this suit as he is in the traditional tunic of Rheadur.

He stands there, maybe half a step closer than would be considered proper in our society, and a wave of heat rolls through me as my gaze rises, tracing him.

I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t help myself.