Bride Behind The Desert Veil (The Marchetti Dynasty 3)

Sharif shook his head. ‘It’s not selfish to want what most people take for granted. You’ll have all the freedom you want within a year at the latest, Liyah. You’ll be wealthy enough to do whatever you want, wherever you want.’

Once again, instead of relief, Sharif’s words precipitated an ominous ache inside her. It was the same hollow sensation she’d felt when he’d laid out so succinctly that he didn’t want a relationship...

There was a low beeping sound and Sharif picked up his phone, which had been face-down on the table. Liyah blinked and looked around. She’d been so caught in the bubble of Sharif’s focus that she hadn’t noticed that the restaurant had emptied around them.

He was speaking into his phone now. ‘Okay, we’ll see you there.’ He put his phone away and said, ‘That was my brother Nikos. He and his wife Maggie will also be at the charity ball tonight, so you’ll get to meet them.’

‘They live in Paris?’

Sharif nodded as he gestured to one of the staff for the bill. ‘They also have a house in Ireland, and they spend a lot of time there. Maggie’s Scottish, but was brought up in Ireland. They have a son, Daniel, who is about eight months old, and Maggie is pregnant with their second child.’

Liyah squinted at Sharif. ‘So, you have a nephew and another one, or a niece, on the way?’

Sharif made a face. ‘It’s a girl, apparently. And my other brother Maks has just announced that his wife is pregnant too.’ He stood up. ‘I’m afraid I have to go back to the office, but my driver can take you to the apartment. We’ll leave for the ball at seven p.m.’

Liyah stood up too, still absorbing the fact that Sharif’s brothers seemed to be well on their way to creating families. Surely if they had only got married for appearances’ sake, like her and Sharif, they wouldn’t be actively having babies?

As they walked back outside Sharif put on his overcoat and sunglasses. Liyah saw the women nearby—and the men—doing double takes. And then third takes. She rolled her eyes.

Sharif said again, ‘Take my car.’

Liyah said, ‘It’s okay. I’ll walk back to the apartment.’

‘Suit yourself. A stylist will bring some dresses by for you to choose from. It’s a black tie event.’

Liyah was turning away when Sharif called her name. She stopped. He came and stood in front of her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark shades.

He said, ‘Don’t let them touch your hair. Leave it loose.’

Liyah’s heart hitched. ‘Why? It’s so messy—’

‘Just...don’t touch it.’

He turned and walked away, long strides putting distance between them within seconds. Liyah looked after him, afraid of the very tender sensation she could feel near her heart because he wanted her to look like...her. Especially after what she had just revealed—the truth about her European trip. The truth of who she was.

A bit of an academic nerd. Someone who wanted to travel. And read. And be independent. Someone most of her family didn’t really care about.

The fact that Sharif had realised himself that she wasn’t the girl in the photos had hit Liyah in a very deep and secret place, where she hid her hurts and vulnerabilities. It was all too seductive to read a deeper meaning into Sharif’s comment about leaving her hair in its natural unstyled state.

But then Liyah castigated herself and turned abruptly and walked away in the opposite direction. She was being ridiculous. There was no deep or hidden meaning in Sharif wanting her to leave her hair alone. Absolutely none. No matter how much she might want there to be.

And that was something that she definitely was not going to acknowledge.

That evening, Liyah took a deep breath as she stood in front of the mirror. It was crazy—she knew she was a princess—but increasingly she actually felt like a princess.

The dress was strapless, with a sweetheart neckline and low back. How it stayed up was a feat of engineering and bodice work that Liyah didn’t understand, but it felt secure. It was in the most delicate shade of blush pink, almost nude with a golden embroidered overlay. It had a cinched-in waist and a full, long tulle skirt and a small train that made it dramatic without being too loud.

The dress shimmered and glistened when she moved, and with it she wore gold hued high heels.

A very nice girl had appeared with the stylist, to do her hair and make-up, and the stylist had brought her pink diamond earrings and a matching bracelet.

The women had left not long ago, and now Liyah looked at herself again. Her hair was down, as requested, and the girl had brushed it until it flowed like ripples of silk over her shoulders, the unruliness tamed somewhat.

There was a knock on the door. Liyah’s heart slammed against her breastbone. She opened it, and her eyes widened as she took in Sharif in a white tuxedo jacket, with a white shirt and black bow tie. He looked dark and sexy.

There was silence. And then Sharif said, ‘You look...stunning, Liyah.’

She felt shy. ‘Thank you. So do you.’