Page 40 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

“And did you get everything you needed?”

“Yes, thank you. It was very kind of you to offer me a gift.”

“I didn’t do anything special. In the next few days, I’ll have some stores closed so you can shop properly.”

My mouth falls open, but no sound comes out.

What does he mean by soyoucan shop—singular, not plural—instead of referring to both Jazmina and me?

Before I can dwell on it, he changes the subject. “I have good news,” he says. “We found her.”

At first, I think I misheard. Then my legs give out, and I sink to the floor, sitting right there in the hallway. “My mother?”

“Yes. And she is sick—your father didn’t lie about that. But she’s not dying. I want you to know I’ve already had her taken to a hospital. She’ll receive the best treatment available, and she’s safe. Later, when we go out to dinner, I’ll explain everything. We have much to discuss tonight.”

I don’t even care what else he wants to say. Nothing could matter more than knowing my mother is no longer abandoned.

“Thank you so much. I’ll spend the rest of my life praying for you to be blessed.” The words tumble out in a rush of pure emotion.

He didn’t just find my mother; he’s taking care of her.

“Stop that. I didn’t do it for gratitude,” he says, sounding almost uncomfortable. “Eight o’clock tonight. Be ready for me.”

And then he hangs up.

Chapter 20

Alain Ducasse au Plaza AthénéeRestaurant

That Night

She’s nervous.

I could feel every cell in her body trembling from the moment I stepped outside, with the driver and bodyguards, to wait for her in front of my building.

Despite everything, Adeela came to me without hesitation, something that pleased me deeply.

Knowing our relationship is no longer the same as last night, since I kissed her, possessiveness surged through me when I saw her walking toward me, stunning in a blue dress that looked as if it had been made for her spectacular body.

Her hair is down, and I like that she decided on it herself, without Jazmina’s influence.

Adeela seems to have been heavily repressed by her father, but the passion within her is there, simmering. In the brief time I held her in my arms, I heard her moan and tremblelike an instrument being played for the first time, eager to learn how to release its melody.

“I can’t tell which restaurant is more beautiful: tonight’s or yesterday’s,” she says.

“They both have three Michelin stars, and for an entire year they’ll be considered the best in France.”

“Michelinstars?”

“Yes. It started as a kind of travel guide meant to rate France’s best hotels and restaurants, but its yearly publication has become a global reference. For a restaurant owner, being listed and earning three stars is an honor. A recognition of success itself.”

“I don’t know much about fine dining,” she admits, “but I know what I like. Both last night’s meal and tonight’s appetizers are delicious.”

Then, unconsciously, she runs her tongue along her lower lip, and my cock responds instantly.

I force myself to look away, reminding myself I’m not here for sex tonight but for something else entirely.

“That must cause a lot of pressure,” she continues, and I realize I’ve lost track of the conversation, my mind spinning with images of her naked body, my hands exploring her for the first time.