Page 118 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

Our mouths seek each other, trying to convey what our minds cannot.

For entire minutes, our bodies move in sync. It’s not a gentle or tender fuck but a needy, impetuous, almost violent one.

When she comes, biting me, I follow her like a good disciple.

We don’t move, even after the orgasm.

The fear I had of losing her makes me want to be with her forever.

To forget the days and the nights.

To maintain the bond in our silent union.

“How could you betray me?” Her voice sounds sad.

“I didn’t betray you, and I’ll prove it. Deceiving you would be deceiving myself, my wife. Why can’t you see that I am yours? That there will never be another?”

Hours Later

“So that’s what happened?” she asks a very red-faced Amin.

“Yes, Your Highness. She found out, I still don’t know how, that His Highness, Sheikh Kaled, had a meeting at that hotel and arranged to be there with a photographer to stage a fake photo.”

“But what would she gain from it?” my wife asks.

Adeela is too naïve for this world. She has no idea what some people would do for five minutes in the spotlight.

“Regarding the photographer, I’ve already arranged what you asked for, Your Highness,” he says, addressing me. “But what should I do about the model?”

“Sue her. I want an astronomical fine for every time she mentions my name or my wife’s. Amin, you can leave us now, thank you,” I say.

When he leaves, I turn to her. “To answer your previous question, some people profit from lies, Adeela. Magazines buy these stories as if they were true. You yourself believed I betrayed you,” I accuse, without pity. She needs to learn to trust me, because we will always be victims of gossip.

Her face turns the color of a tomato. “I’m ashamed.”

“You should be. The way you judged me without giving me a chance to explain was very bad.”

I’m not as angry as when I arrived. Even though I was furious at the time, now that I’ve calmed down and measures have been taken to punish the guilty, I’ve concluded that there’s no point in dwelling on the story. Famous people have always been involved in scandals because of opportunists. Why would it be different with us?

The only opinion that matters to me is that of the woman who is pacing back and forth, head down, in the hotel room.

“How bad?” she asks.

“What?”

“You said what I did was very bad. How much did I damage the trust between us?”

I try to keep a serious expression, but I fail. “Pillow attack? Roses? A shoe? I thought I could do better than that.”

“You’re not angry with me, then?” she asks, coming into my arms.

“I can’t say I was happy that you doubted my love, but putting myself in your place, the images led you to believe in betrayal. I probably would have thought the same. The difference is that I would never give you up. I would destroy my rival.”

She sits on my lap, facing me. “You didn’t understand anything if you thought I would renounce you. I was crazy with jealousy, yes, my sheikh, but I’m not temporary in your life. I’m here to stay.”

Rheadur

Three Months Later