All Chapters of My Accidental Billionaire Husband : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

316 Chapters

Dry Humping In The Desert

~Katia~The light was doing something extraordinary now — the fulldesert sunset beginning its final push, the sky moving through colours thatdidn’t exist anywhere else, and the dunes catching each shift and throwing itback amplified. Rose, gold, deep amber, something approaching red that was notquite any colour I had a name for.Hassan was at the camp below – just visible, a small figuremoving between the tents, far enough that the desert had swallowed all soundbetween us and him.We were entirely alone on the ridge.Julian turned to me, his eyes dark, reflecting the dying gold ofthe sun. There was no innocence left in the way he looked at me. It was asilent, predatory claim. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of my neck,and pulled me into a kiss that tasted like heat and salt and a night ofsuppressed hunger.We sank onto the dune together. The sand was still warm from theday, fine as silk beneath us. Julian pushed me back slowly, his weight a heavypressure until my

A Kiss Above the World

~Julian~I had reserved the table three weeks ago.Not because I had planned this specifically; I had not planned any of this specifically, which was itself a fact I was still adjusting to. I had reserved it because the Burj Khalifa's At.mosphere restaurant required a reservation three weeks in advance regardless of who you were and because I had known from the moment the Dubai itinerary was confirmed that I was going to use every hour of this week correctly.The car collected her at seven thirty.I was already in the lobby when she came down. She was wearing something the colour of midnight, structured, and precise, the kind of dress that made the word 'elegant' feel insufficient. She saw me and clocked that we were alone — no Zane, no Sam, no team — and her expression did the thing it did when she was recalibrating."Burj Khalifa," I said, before she could ask.She looked at me for a moment. "Of course it is."The elevator was fast, the kind of fast that required a moment of adjustm

Another picture in Dubai

Julian”s POVThe food arrived. We ate. The conversation moved, not away from what had been said, but around it, the way conversations move when something significant has been placed between two people and both of them need a moment to exist alongside it before deciding what to do next.I told her about my grandmother. She told me about Aiden, the go-kart league, the way Pete the instructor had pulled her aside after the first lap, and the specific joy on his face when he crossed the finish line. I told her about the Amsterdam project my father had refused, the one that had cost him everything and taught me more about what the Windsor name meant than any boardroom ever had. He died before he saw what it became. A car accident, sixteen years ago, when I was eighteen. She went quiet when I said it – not the polite quiet of someone waiting for the subject to change, but the real quiet of someone who understood what it meant to lose a parent before you were ready. She listened with the com

On the water

~Katia~The message came through at nine in the morning.Not a call, a text, which was how Julian communicated when he had already decided something and was informing rather than asking. Three words and a time.Pier 7. Noon.I showed it to Sam.She read it. She handed the phone back. She said nothing, which was the Sam version of saying everything."I have the expansion briefing at ten," I said."Which ends at eleven thirty," she said. "Pier 7 is twelve minutes from the hotel."I looked at her."I'm just doing the logistics," she said, with the perfectly neutral expression she had been perfecting for years.I went to the expansion briefing. I presented two slides, answered four questions, delegated three action items to Davies, and was in the car at eleven thirty-two.Pier 7 was in Dubai Marina — the specific kind of marina that existed because someone had decided Dubai needed not just a coastline but a curated coastline, every detail considered, the water itself seeming to understand

Dry Humping In The Yacht

~Katia~The Gulf was enormous around us. The city was a jagged, glittering line on the horizon, but out here, the water was a deep, restless turquoise that seemed to pull at the very edges of my control.Julian reached across the table and took my hand. I turned my hand over and held his, my skin humming where we touched. The conversation about Aiden—about the fathers we don't know and the ones we lose—had stripped away the last of the professional armour."Katia," he whispered.He didn't wait for me to answer. He stood, never letting go of my hand, and led me to the oversized sun pad at the stern of the boat. The crew was gone, the engines were a distant, rhythmic thrum, and the "eye fucking" that had been building since the moment we entered the yacht reached a fever pitch. He looked at me like he wanted to dismantle me.He pushed me back against the cushions. I felt the heat of the sun-warmed leather against my back as he hovered over me. We started kissing—not the tentative explor

Above Everything

~Julian~The car collected her at four thirty.She was already in the lobby when I arrived. Light jacket, hair down, and that look of a woman who was awake and functional but had reserved judgement on whether the hour warranted it."Four thirty," she said."Sunrise doesn't negotiate," I said.She looked at me for a moment. Then she walked to the car.The balloon launch site was forty minutes outside the city, a flat stretch of desert that the company used specifically because it had no light pollution and no obstacles. The crew was already there when we arrived, the envelope half-inflated, the burners throwing heat into the dark in controlled bursts that lit the immediate area gold and left everything else black.Katia watched the inflation process with the focused attention she gave to things – how it worked, the physics of it, and the logic of hot air and fabric and lift. She asked the pilot one question about wind patterns at altitude. He answered properly, and she nodded, satisfie

Every Star Has A Name

~Katia~The message came at eight PM. Desert. Hassan is outside.No question mark. No explanation. I looked at it for ten seconds, then put my phone in my bag and told Sam I was going out."Where?" she said. "Desert," I answered.She looked at me over her laptop. "Again." "Yes." "Katia." "Sam."She looked back at her laptop. "Be back by midnight. The race briefing is at seven AM."I was already at the door.Hassan drove us out past the city limits in comfortable silence. The sky changed the moment the city lights fell away — the difference between a sky with stars and a sky full of them was not gradual. It was immediate. Like someone had turned something on.Julian was looking up before the car had fully stopped.We sat on a blanket Hassan had laid out on the flat desert floor, far enough from the road that the silence was complete. No traffic. No wind. Just the desert and the sky and the specific cold that crept into desert nights after the heat released."Do you know them?" I as

The Autodrome

~Julian~Breakfast was at six. Just us, a corner table, the hotel restaurant empty at that hour. We talked about nothing important, Aiden's go-kart league, the Amsterdam office timeline, and whether the Burj Al Arab's coffee was as good as it thought it was. It was the most ordinary hour we had spent together, and it felt, inexplicably, like the most significant.At seven thirty I told her where we were going.She looked at me across the table. "The Autodrome.""The Dubai Autodrome," I said. "WEG has a hospitality partnership with the facility. Private track time this morning. No public."She was very still for a moment. "A racing experience.""Formula Two cars. Instructor-led. The track is one of the best in the Middle East." I watched her face. "You said at the showcase that you follow motorsport. I thought you'd appreciate it."Something moved in her expression – a flicker of something she managed quickly. "I follow it as a spectator.""Then you'll enjoy seeing it from a different

Delia loses it

~Delia~I saw the first Dubai post at seven in the morning.I was in bed, half asleep, doing what I always did when I couldn't sleep, which was scroll through my phone pretending I wasn't looking for something specific. I was absolutely looking for something specific.His Instagram had been silent since France. Two posts. Hands at a restaurant. Hands at a jazz bar. Both of them had broken the internet for forty-eight hours and then settled into the permanent record of Julian Windsor doing something nobody could explain.The desert post stopped me cold.Two shadows on a dune. Heads together. The Dubai location tag. No caption just like France.I sat up in bed.What the fuck!I zoomed in. Two people; that much was obvious. One taller, which of course was my fucking husband Julian; it had to be Julian, the height and the shoulders. The other, smaller, slender, their shadow leaning into his like it belonged there. Like it had always been there. Like this was not a business trip at all.I

Another fake Catwoman

~Delia~I booked the flight to Dubai myself.Julian didn't know. Nobody knew. I used my personal card, packed a bag while the housekeeper was out, and was in the air before anyone thought to check where I was. Let them wonder. Let them scramble. I had spent eight months being the woman who waited in the east wing and said nothing and wore the right dress and smiled for cameras that never looked at her anyway.I was done with that version of myself.Dubai hit me like a wall when I stepped off the plane. The heat, the light, the specific arrogance of a city that had decided to be extraordinary and charged you for the privilege of standing in it. I didn't care. I checked into the Atlantis, not the Burj Al Arab where Julian was. I wasn't stupid, and I sat on the bed in my room, and I thought about what I was going to do.The pre-race press gathering was that evening. I had found it in Julian's Dubai itinerary — the one I had photographed on my phone three weeks ago when he left his laptop

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