Page 84 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

I look at my painted hands and feet. It’s a custom meant to bring good luck and fertility to my union with Kaled, and thinking about that second part makes me want to cry.

I regret having imposed the clause about not having children, even if we set it for a period to be revisited later.

Who was I trying to fool? I fell in love with my sheikh practically the day I set foot in Paris, and now my choice has become a punishment for myself. I want very much to become a mother.

I was scared the same thing that happened in my family would happen to me—that I’d lose custody and daily life withmy children in a divorce. But Kaled is not my father, and I’m certain that, even if he doesn’t love me, he would never hurt me or betray my trust.

I want to study, build a career, but I also want to have children with the man who won my heart.

I remember our conversation. He accepted my refusal to get pregnant very quickly. That can only mean he doesn’t want it either. Face burning with embarrassment, I wonder how we’ll avoid it, since our religion forbids contraceptive methods. I have no doubt he used them when he lived in the West, but that was before he became sheikh and when he wasn’t exclusive to any woman. Now he’s mine.

I talked to Jazmina about it—how women can avoid having children—though I wasn’t honest about the fact I made it a condition with her brother. She told me that when she marries, she won’t want them right away either, and that menfind a waynot to get their wives pregnant if they’re careful. That ended our talk. I’m too shy to discuss something so intimate, even with my best friend.

I look at the white dress hanging on a rack. I’ll wear it for the first part of our celebration, for signing the contract and for the blessings given by former Sheikh Kamran[37], but during the party I’ll change clothes at least three times.

This dress, more modest than the others and, as tradition dictates, a gift from the groom’s family, leaves only my hands uncovered. I’ll also wear a head-covering veil during the blessing.

Later, when the festivities begin, I’ll change into the one commissioned from the European designer.

We decided to marry at the palace, since it isn’t mandatory to hold the ceremony in a mosque. Kaled said that, if I didn’t mind, he preferred everything to be done here at ourofficial residence for better security—at least until we’re sure who the hidden enemy is.

In theory, the marriage contract should be signed under my father’s blessing, but that’s another custom Kaled chose to ignore.

I don’t know what he discussed with my father-in-law, but I heard something about the council being temporarily dissolved, which means my father no longer holds an important position in the country or the privileges that come with it.

“It’s time.” Jazmina comes back to my chambers smiling. “Sofia Lambertucci has arrived with her husband, Enrico. She looks beautiful in our traditional clothes and told me she has a surprise for you.”

“Surprise?”

“Seems your commission arrived ahead of schedule.”

“Oh! I can’t believe it. She worked so fast! Could you have it put...um...in the room I’ll share with my husband? I want to give it to him as soon as we return from the desert.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll arrange everything. You just focus on your wedding night. The tent turned out so gorgeous I almost want to go with you.”

“No, thank you,” I say, laughing, even as my face flames.

“Killjoy,” she shoots back.

“Nervous?” my mother asks as she walks in moments later.

“No.”

And it’s true. I’m not afraid, just filled with a fierce longing to finally become his. Since we arrived, we haven’t been truly alone, and I can’t wait for the moment my husband teaches me the pleasures he’s only given me a small taste of so far.

My body aches for it.

As I listen to my father-in-law giving us the final blessings, I can’t take my eyes off my now-husband’s.

I barely register the words, the exchange of rings, the scarf covering both our heads.

Right now, there is only him.

My sheikh. The man I hope to spend the rest of my life with.

No matter what brought us here, I’m ready to make this marriage as real as possible.

I shouldn’t be staring at him. It would probably be more proper to look demure, but I can’t hide my desire anymore, especially because the way he looks back tells me he can hardly wait for us to be alone, too.