Page 21 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

I’m only interested in casual affairs. And even if one day, if I’m forced to take the throne, I’ll have to marry, I plan to do it by contract. No emotions, no love. Just duty.

Children are out of the question.

I’ll leave that to one of my sisters—preferably Jazmina, once she marries—and hope her child becomes my successor.

I have no desire to be tied to anyone forever. And if I ever do it, it’ll be for obligation, not love. The marriage will be like all my other relationships—purely physical satisfaction. I don’t ever want to depend on someone emotionally the way my parents did, and then, if she dies or leaves me, feel like half a man for the rest of my life.

I wait in the car, parked on the private runway, watching my jet make its final maneuvers before stopping.

No matter how hard I try to keep my body under control, it reacts instinctively to the thought of seeing the woman I’ve been—let’s be honest—running from for over a year.

The plane door opens, and my sister appears, radiant and full of life, as always.

She’s wearing a yellow floral dress that falls just below her knees, with sleeves to the elbows.

The Western-style outfit must’ve been stored away for some time, since Naim banned clothing that showed women’s legs and arms. Before that, the onlyguidelinewas that dresses and skirts shouldn’t be above the knee.

I hesitate to get out of the car, because I know that in a few seconds, Adeela will step out too.

And, as if fate is mocking me, my phone rings. The last person I want to talk to right now refuses to give up.

Ingrid, the German model I’d been seeing last week, the one I cut off yesterday.

Like all my relationships, it wasn’t serious. But she didn’t take it well when I sent, through Amin, a diamond bracelet and a short note ending things.

My assistant told me that after opening the box and reading the note, she slammed the door in his face, though she kept the bracelet.

“This isn’t a good time to talk,” I tell her flatly, stepping out of the car. I’m trying to be civil, though there’s really nothing left to say, today or ever again. But reminding her of that would make me sound like an asshole.

“It can’t end like this!”

I press the phone harder to my ear. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Kaled...we were happy! What about the trip to Monte Carlo you promised me?”

Ah, there it is. The reason for her tantrum.

Though I never actuallypromisedher anything, I onlymentionedthat I might go, I try to placate her. “You can still go. My treat. Send the expense receipts to my office, but don’t call me again.”

“Unlimited expenses?”

I rarely regret my decisions, whether with women or business, but right now, I wish I’d never gotten involved with her.

When I date, I make things clear from the start—I’m only looking for pleasure, nothing serious. And as long as the ending is drama-free, I always part ways with a gift to make the goodbye easier. But I’ve never considered that a payment. That would be demeaning to them and to me. I’ve never needed to buy a woman, and I never will.

Even though I’m always generous with my lovers, Ingrid’s attitude pisses me off.

I pace back and forth, my back to the plane, trying to shake off the stress of a conversation that should’ve been long over.

“Unlimited,” I finally say. “Now listen carefully, Ingrid: don’t ever contact me again. When I said it was over, I meant it.”

I hear her angry sigh before hanging up.

Relief doesn’t even begin to describe what I feel after ending that once and for all.

But when I turn around toward the plane, I freeze.

My sister and Adeela are standing right behind me.