Bride Behind The Desert Veil (The Marchetti Dynasty 3)

It had happened with the speed and impact of an unstoppable train. And she knew why. Because, contrary to that first time, when Liyah had felt ‘seen’ by her lover, she now knew she had not been. That had been wishful thinking on her part—a need to justify allowing someone the ultimate intimacy. But with Sharif...she really did feel seen.

Literally, in her first interaction with him, she’d been naked.

But it was more than that. She felt an affinity with him that she’d never felt with anyone else. Not even her sister. She saw a kindred spirit in his self-isolation. His lone wolfness. It resonated in her because she’d always been alone too.

Now, for the first time in her life she didn’t feel alone.

And it was so dangerous—because for Sharif this was still very much physical. And she sensed that, while her own defences had ultimately been too weak to withstand him, his defences were far stronger.

His life was built around avenging his mother’s betrayal and death. He hadn’t spelt it out like that, but she’d guessed it. He had a singular ambition and Liyah was a momentary diversion, helping him to that end.

But what of that end? What would happen if and when he did avenge his mother? Would he have peace then? Or move on to the next challenge?

‘Ready?’

Liyah turned around, startled out of her reverie. Sharif stood in the doorway to the palatial lounge in a black tuxedo. She sucked in a breath, still not used to the punch to her gut every time she saw him.

‘Yes, I’m ready.’

This evening she was wearing a black silk dress. It had a high neck and long sleeves, and fell just below her knee. A gold belt cinched in her waist and the flowing fabric. It was paired with black high heels. She felt covered up and relatively demure, which was welcome after the other night in Paris and the catsuit.

The morning after that night at the club she’d woken to find it torn and in tatters. Much to her mortification. It hadn’t survived intact after Sharif’s lovemaking in the car, and then when they’d arrived back at the apartment, the zip had got stuck and Sharif had ripped the fabric asunder. Not that Liyah had objected at the time.

But, considering how viral those pictures of her in the suit had gone after that night, Liyah figured the designer had got his value from it. She just prayed he wouldn’t ask for its return.

‘You’ve left your hair down,’ Sharif commented.

Liyah walked over to him, growing warm from the heated look in his gaze. ‘Did you want me to put it up?’

He shook his head and curved a hand around the back of her neck, tugging her towards him. He pressed a swift kiss to her mouth, and even that had Liyah moaning softly. Since the other night, it was as if any restraint was a thing of the past.

They’d even made love on the plane on the way from Paris to London. A flight that had taken less than two hours.

When he touched her like this, or made love to her, it was easy to pretend to herself that it was just physical, but she knew it wasn’t. For her.

The engagement party was being held in one of London’s most iconic hotels near Hyde Park. When they arrived in the main lobby, Sharif was approached by a man Liyah had never seen before. He introduced the man to her as the Marchetti Group’s head of European PR. Liyah smiled, but lost interest as the two men engaged in a conversation about strategy.

She saw an eye-catching modern painting on the wall nearby and wandered over to take a closer look. When she felt a presence close by she looked up with a smile on her face, expecting to see Sharif, but it wasn’t Sharif, and it took her a second to place who it was.

The man put out his hand. ‘We met in New York, shortly after your wedding. I believe it was your first public event with your husband?’

Liyah instinctively recoiled, remembering the reporter who had confronted Sharif at that first event at the Metropolitan Museum. ‘Mr Callaghan, isn’t it?’

He smiled unctuously and she recoiled even further.

‘Well remembered, Mrs Marchetti.’ He took a card out of his pocket and held it towards her. ‘I just wanted to give you my contact details, in case you ever feel you want to share what life is like on the inside of the world’s most successful—’

The card was plucked out of Callaghan’s hand before Liyah could touch it. She breathed a sigh of relief as Sharif pulled her close. His voice was icy.

‘Aren’t you a little far from home, Callaghan? And this is a private family event.’

The man stepped back and held his hands up in a mock show of humility. ‘What can I say? I just happened to be in London at the same time.’

Sharif made a rude sound. ‘Clear off, Callaghan. You’re not welcome.’

Sharif led Liyah away, and threw the card into a bin as they passed through the lobby. She felt a prickling at the back of her neck, as if the man was still staring after them, but when she looked around he was gone.

In the elevator, Sharif said tightly, ‘What did he want?’