Page 65 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

She turns in my arms, and to my relief, she’s smiling. “It’s almost night already.”

“That’s because you’ve been avoiding me all day,” I say plainly.

“You worked from home?”

“You know I did. Why didn’t you come downstairs?”

“I was embarrassed,” she admits, looking down. “I didn’t behave properly yesterday.”

I push her gently until her back meets the door, trapping her body between mine and the solid wood. I guide her armsaround my neck, and before she can protest, I capture her mouth.

She clings to me, moaning softly, all shyness forgotten, need overpowering reason.

I don’t stop until we’re both breathless, and even then, I nibble her full lower lip. “Nothing that happened yesterday was wrong. Don’t feel ashamed. You’re delicious.”

“But we’re not married yet.”

“A piece of paper won’t make you any more mine than you already are. I could barely sleep, thinking about the way you came in my mouth.”

She hides her face against my chest.

“Is what I said too much for you?”

“It should be,” she admits quietly, “but the truth is, I love everything between us.”

“What we do in our room,” I begin, kissing her neck, “or on the kitchen table,” I whisper against her ear, “or in the shower”—my lips brush hers—”or against my office window—”

“Stop,” she says, half laughing, half scolding. “I get your point.”

“Nothing between us is wrong. Let yourself feel it; give me pleasure and take yours. Don’t hold back because of rules. It will always be just the two of us. Every scream, every moan, every request belongs here. Our room will be our kingdom, and you, my queen.”

Chapter 31

I pace back and forth across my office, trying to process everything the man in front of me just told me.

Phill Mallory. He’s a former FBI agent who now works independently for the world’s elite—meaning, anyone who can afford his expertise—and he came highly recommended.

Yet the specialist, who has acted as a negotiator in kidnappings of bankers, CEOs, and even a Japanese heiress, bringing them all safely home, knows just as little as we do about my brother’s whereabouts: nothing.

“Believe me, Your Highness, if there were anything to be found, any loose thread at all, I’d have discovered it already.”

“No one vanishes into thin air.”

He nods. “If you want my opinion, whatever happened was carried out by professionals,” he says, carefully avoiding the worddeath, though we both know all signs point to the fact that my half-brother is no longer among the living.

“Professionals? Explain.”

“I’m not sure how to do that without offending you.”

“Go ahead. Forget that my half-brother was a sheikh. Picture him as an ordinary man. What’s your theory?”

“The Greek. Lykaios. I believe he’s the one responsible for your brother disappearing from the face of the earth. Although, as I said before, I doubt we’ll ever be able to prove it.”

“Go back a bit. Why are you so certain it was Lykaios?”

“Since you’ve given me permission to speak of your brother as a regular man, I will. He was a known abuser of women,” he begins, and even though I’m not accountable for another man’s sins, shame burns through me. “When you hired me to find him, I dug deep into his background.”

“How deep?” I ask, not out of curiosity about Naim’s atrocities but to gauge the extent of what we’re dealing with. Even though I can already picture it, since my half-brother could never keep his dick in his pants, that alone wouldn’t necessarily have gotten him killed.