Page 93 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

“You’re different from all the women I’ve ever known.”

“Because I was born in Rheadur?”

I had considered that, but I know it’s not true. Her personality would have caught my attention even if we were both Westerners.

She’s shy, but courageous when confronted. I saw proof of that when she stood up to me the night I proposed.

Most women in my social circle would have been happy to receive my proposal, focusing exclusively on the status that being a billionaire’s wife would provide, but Adeela, on the contrary, laid out her terms, stating what she accepted and what was off-limits, such as the infidelity clause, for example.

“I don’t believe it has to do with where you were born but with your personality and character. I admire you as a human being, as a wife, and there aren’t many people I tell that to.”

“So I’m another member of your selective group?”

Without planning, I laugh. “Not a chance. You’re too beautiful to be among a bunch of arrogant bastards.”

She falls silent, and I know what she’s thinking.

“That’s right. You should limit yourself to just one bastard. Me.”

From her smile, I know I hit the nail on the head.

“But you didn’t answer why you gave me so much.”

And now? How do I answer that without sounding like a jerk jinxing our still-new marriage?

“You included a divorce clause, one for which I don’t intend to be punished, but there are other reasons that can lead a marriage to end, and if that happens, you’ll never have to go through the ordeal your mother went through.”

She stiffens and seconds later, rolls to the side, moving as far away as she can.

I cover my eyes with my arm.

I’m not diplomatic when it comes to talking, and I have no idea how to explain to her that, regardless of what happens to our relationship, I will always respect her and take care of her wellbeing.

“What was in that envelope you gave me after the ceremony?”

“Didn’t you look?”

“No. I was anxious to get here.”

Her honesty is like a punch in the face.

“The envelope contained the deed to my apartment in Paris. It’s yours, whether we stay married or not.”

Her mouth drops open in shock. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” I say, leaning towards her and completely invading her personal space. “But understand that when I asked you to marry me, I didn’t intend to get a divorce, even before touching you. Now that I have you, it doesn’t cross my mind to let you go. I don’t think that will ever change, my Adeela. There’s no one else I want by my side, and there never will be.”

She sits on the bed, letting the blanket she pulled up to cover her nakedness slip down. Her face is determined when her hands land on my shoulders, persuading me to lie on my back.

I wait, already excited for her next move, and when she straddles my thighs, the desire I’ve been holding back returns in full force.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she says, moving over my erection, which begins to harden again.

“About what?” I ask, somewhat lost, connected to her as I’ve never felt with a woman.

“Divorce or separation. Another wife for you or another husband for me.”

That finally wakes me up, and one of my hands grabs her hip while the other pulls her down by the nape of her neck.