‘Why?’
‘Because my mother left an inheritance to me, her only child. My father couldn’t touch it, and I inherited when I was eighteen. It’s probably nothing compared to the wealth you command, but it’s enough to keep me secure.’
‘That’s the only thing you checked in the prenup—to make sure that our marr
iage didn’t give me any rights over the money you have independently.’
Liyah nodded. ‘So I don’t need anything from you.’
An expression crossed his face, too fast to decipher, but Liyah thought it was scepticism.
He said, ‘That’s refreshing to know. But let me know how you feel when I initiate our divorce and you’ve become used to a life of comfort and luxury beyond your wildest dreams.’
‘Divorce?’ They’d only just got married.
‘You really should have read that prenuptial agreement properly. It’s all in there. When you signed the contract, the day before the wedding—hours before we met at the oasis—you agreed to a divorce at the earliest in six months and at the latest in a year’s time. This is a marriage in name only—purely for appearances.’
Liyah let this sink in. She should be feeling relief right now, at the thought that not only was this a marriage in name only but that it was also to be shortlived. But what she was feeling was more ambiguous. Curiosity...
‘Why such a specific timeframe?’
‘Because I only need a wife until such time as I don’t need one any more. Once certain...objectives have been met.’
The air steward approached them again, to inform them that they’d be landing any minute and to ask them to make sure they were buckled in.
Liyah’s head was buzzing with this information. If what Sharif was saying was true, then within a year at the most she’d have her freedom again. And by that time Samara would be married into her new family, so Liyah wouldn’t have any reason to return to a place that had never really welcomed her. She really would be free.
So why didn’t that induce joy?
The wedding ring on Liyah’s finger felt very heavy all of a sudden, and she twisted it absently on her finger.
Sharif asked sharply, ‘Does it not fit?’
Liyah looked at him. She shook her head. ‘It fits fine...it’s just...big.’
The plane touched down smoothly at that moment. As the roar of the throttle eased, and the plane made its way to the hangar where they would disembark, Liyah asked, ‘This really was always intended to be a marriage in name only?’
Sharif nodded. ‘As per the prenuptial agreement—it’s all there in black and white.’
‘But what...?’ Liyah stopped, suddenly hesitant.’
Sharif lifted a brow. ‘What...?’
Liyah could feel herself getting hot again. ‘What about the fact that we...?’ She stopped again, unable to articulate the words.
‘Slept together?’
She nodded.
Sharif’s expression hardened. ‘That was a mistake. It won’t happen again. This marriage isn’t about that.’
Liyah couldn’t look away from Sharif’s hard expression. ‘It won’t happen again.’ A word trembled on her tongue. Why? But she stopped herself from letting it slip out, cursing herself for not realising sooner.
She’d been inexperienced. He hadn’t. Clearly what had been a transformative experience for her had not been nearly as earth-shattering for him, and she felt mortified now for assuming otherwise.
She should be welcoming this development. The fact that he didn’t really want a wife. He’d seduced her so easily. She’d lain down and bared her entire body and soul to him. She’d behaved totally out of character. Did she really want to risk revealing herself to him again? No.
The plane had come to a stop now, and staff were opening doors. Liyah gathered her things and avoided Sharif’s eye, terrified that he might read something she couldn’t hide.