Bride Behind The Desert Veil (The Marchetti Dynasty 3)

He answered, ‘Not at all. I don’t see how any woman can say she’s not a feminist.’

Liyah’s prickliness and scattered thoughts disappeared. She looked at him.

He said, ‘Don’t look so surprised. My mother was a strong woman, and if it hadn’t been for her I would have had to spend even more time with my father.’

‘How old were you when she died?’

Sharif didn’t move a muscle, but Liyah sensed his reticence.

‘Nine. It was a long time ago.’

Clearly they’d been close. Liyah felt a pang to think of how different her own life might have been if her mother hadn’t died so young.

‘So,’ he repeated, ‘why did you take your sister’s place?’

Liyah hesitated at the prospect of telling Sharif the truth, but then remi

nded herself that he hadn’t even cared which sister he married. ‘Because she’s in love with someone else and wants to marry him.’

‘But you just said you think she’s too young to give up her independence...isn’t it a contradiction to approve of her marrying someone else?’

Liyah’s conscience pricked. She had just contradicted herself—spectacularly. She felt like squirming. No one had ever questioned her this closely about anything. ‘I just want her to be happy... But I’m afraid she’ll be disappointed. Because love doesn’t exist—or, if it does, it’s a destructive force.’

‘That’s a very cynical view to have.’

‘Something tells me that a man who is prepared to seduce a stranger the night before his arranged marriage doesn’t exactly hold love in high esteem,’ Liyah observed drily.

Sharif acknowledged that with a dip of his head. ‘Touché.’

For a moment Liyah felt a heady rush of exhilaration. Here was a kindred spirit. Was that why she’d been so drawn to him on sight? Because she’d sensed an unconscious affinity? It would certainly help explain her uncharacteristic behaviour.

And yet, even though she recognised and welcomed the sense of affinity, the exhilaration faded to leave a hollow echo inside her to know he was as cynical as her.

‘So, who hurt you?’

Liyah’s breath stopped for a second at his question. She wondered if she’d heard correctly. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You’re not innocent, but you’re not experienced. So, whoever your lover was, he either hurt you badly enough to spark your cynicism or he merely confirmed it. And he didn’t ensure that you were satisfied.’

Liyah wanted to slide under the chair and into the floor. Had it been so obvious? No wonder he didn’t want to repeat the experience.

‘You think you see a lot.’

He practically smirked. ‘I know I do. It is a skill honed over many years.’

The need to know how and why he’d developed such a skill hovered on Liyah’s tongue, but before she could say a word there was a sound and they both blinked, as if taken by surprise at the way their conversation had engrossed them.

Liyah looked to the door, where a middle-aged gentleman stood. She hadn’t even known anyone else was in the place, but it was so vast she wasn’t surprised.

Sharif stood up. ‘Liyah, I’d like you to meet Thomas Burke, the house manager here.’

Liyah stood up and met the man halfway. Shaking his hand, she smiled, feeling suddenly shy.

‘Mrs Marchetti, it’s a pleasure to welcome you to New York.’

Sharif glanced at his watch and said, ‘I have to go downtown for some meetings and to catch up on my calls. Thomas will show you around and take note of any dietary requirements. You should settle in, Liyah, I’ll be back for dinner.’

‘Take note of any dietary requirements.’ As if she was literally an employee.