Bride Behind The Desert Veil (The Marchetti Dynasty 3)

The designer looked excited as he grabbed Liyah’s hand and pulled her away from Sharif. He said, ‘Oh, it’ll fit—I know it will. And you will look fabulous. Then all we have to do is convince your husband to let you wear it in public.’

The first thing that erupted into Sharif’s head when Liyah emerged from behind a curtain some twenty minutes or so later was that there was no way in hell she would ever appear in public wearing the most provocative outfit he’d ever seen.

It was moulded to every dip, hollow and curve of her body. Being round-necked and long-sleeved didn’t make it any more demure.

The designer stood beside him and said in an awed voice, ‘Have you ever seen anything more perfect?’

Sharif got out a strangled, ‘What is it?’

‘A sequinned zebra print catsuit.’

Liyah looked like a feline goddess. Even the fact that she didn’t have the confidence of a model couldn’t detract from the overall look.

Sharif’s phone rang at that moment and he picked it out of his pocket, actually relieved that he had a moment’s distraction from the vision in front of him. It was his chief strategic advisor, reminding him of an invitation to go to the opening of a new nightclub in Paris that evening.

Sharif had dismissed the invitation originally, because he loathed nightclubs. But his advisor was saying now, ‘I know you don’t usually go to events like this, but the club is owned by Felipe Sanchez—who we both know is worth keeping an eye on because he’s starting to encroach on our territory...buying up designer labels and luxury brands that are outside our sphere of interest. But, as we know well, today’s undesirable brand could become tomorrow’s behemoth. We need to keep an eye on him. If you went to the opening, perhaps your presence...and your wife’s...would eclipse some of Felipe’s bid to grab publicity. I don’t think I need to tell you that Princess Aaliyah is attracting a lot of press attention. They want more of her...’

As much as Sharif hated the notion of doing anything in response to someone else’s provocation, he knew his advisor was right. The last thing he needed was a rival upsetting his plans before he was ready to unveil them to the world. And, as much as he didn’t want anyone else to see Liyah as she was right now, he knew that if she appeared in public in this outfit, on his arm, an eclipse would be guaranteed.

If not a nucelar meltdown...

That evening, central Paris

Liyah was naked in public. Well, not literally naked. But she felt naked—because she was so far out of her comfort zo

ne that it was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

She was wearing the catsuit she’d tried on earlier in the atelier and the material was gossamer-light, heightening her feeling of being exposed. She and Sharif had just stepped out of his car. Before them lay a red carpet, populated by well-known faces from the music world, actors and actresses... And at the other end of the carpet were the glittering lights of the newly opened nightclub. The pounding drum and bass of the music could be felt even from here.

Up till now, attending an event with Sharif had been a sophisticated and elegant affair. Tonight was something very different. Edgier, younger. Sharif wore a plain black suit and a black shirt, unbuttoned. Liyah saw a girl walk past wearing what looked like two slivers of silver lamé held together by pins.

Suddenly she didn’t feel so naked, and when Sharif took her hand and said, ‘Okay?’ she looked at him and nodded, aware that for the first time she wanted to please him.

When he’d asked if she’d mind wearing this outfit to an event this evening, her first instinct had been to say No way. It was the kind of thing she would never wear in a million years. It had been one thing to try it on for the designer—but another entirely to wear it publicly, as if this was the kind of outfit, or event she took in her stride. When underneath it all, in spite of her metamorphosis over the last few whirlwind weeks, she was still just a nerdy academic who loved the outdoors and travelling and learning about the world.

But that wasn’t entirely true. Because with Sharif she was discovering that she had a whole other side to her that she’d never explored before. A side that had been shut down after the experience with her first lover in England. A side that revelled in wearing something so provocative even as it terrified her.

Because she knew it had an incendiary effect on Sharif...

After their visit to the atelier he’d accompanied her back to the apartment, and the evidence of just how provocative he’d found the catsuit had had him growling instructions into his phone to clear his schedule before taking Liyah to his room and making love to her with a hunger that had inflamed her. The after-effects lingered in her blood even now.

But now the world exploded in their faces as the wall of paparazzi caught sight of them and en masse trained their lenses on Liyah, in the glittering sequinned catsuit.

A couple of hours later, Liyah was sleepily curled into Sharif’s side in the back of the car. to her surprise Sharif had deigned to stay for longer than a nanosecond at the club. He’d even—shock, horror—gone onto the dance floor with her. She smiled to herself at the memory.

Her ears were still ringing slightly after the loud music, so she was only half aware that Sharif was talking to someone on the phone. But then her ears pricked up.

‘It worked very well,’ he was saying. ‘Felipe’s reaction alone made it worthwhile attending.’ And then, ‘There are? Already? Send them to me.’

Sharif terminated the conversation.

Liyah sat up. He was looking at his phone and she saw an image of herself. She looked closer, not feeling sleepy any more. ‘Is that me? From tonight?’

Sharif angled the phone towards her. There were a few images of them on the red carpet. And also some grainy ones from inside the club. A rush of hot exposure came back to her as she saw herself straining closer to Sharif on the dance floor, her arms twined around his neck, every point of their bodies touching. She was looking up at him and she looked utterly besotted.

‘The pictures from tonight are already going viral. I think it’s safe to say that the news of the opening of Felipe Sanchez’s new club will fade into insignificance next to the pictures of you in that catsuit.’

‘Who is Felipe Sanchez?’