Bride Behind The Desert Veil (The Marchetti Dynasty 3)

‘Only if you end up being carried out by the bouncers.’

He watched that full mouth compress and felt his body jerk in response. He shifted in his seat.

She said, ‘You didn’t answer my question. Do you normally leave events early?’

Sharif instinctively chafed at the question. He didn’t indulge women who wanted to know more about him. He hadn’t shared his inner thoughts and motivations with anyone since his mother had died and the one person he’d trusted had gone. He kept things strictly superficial. Sexual. And then it was over. Which women did not appreciate... Hence the recent media attention, after his last lover had decided to lash out in the papers, branding him a heartless monster.

But Liyah was different. They were married. And for some reason he had a compulsion to tell her. ‘I don’t particularly enjoy them. And I don’t see the point in hanging around when what I’ve needed to do is done.’

Liyah moved back into her corner of the car, as if she wanted to get a better look at him. It made Sharif’s skin prickle with awareness and something else. Exposure.

‘You’re a bit of a lone wolf, aren’t you?’

‘You don’t need anybody else, Sharif!’

Those words had been hurled at him too many times to count over the years. His mother had said them too, but with the emphasis on it being a good thing. She’d said, ‘You don’t need anybody else Sharif. Don’t trust anyone. Trust yourself. You are your own best friend. You’ll know what to do.’ She’d learnt a harsh lesson at the hands of his father, when he’d betrayed her trust, stolen her inheritance and broken her heart.

So, yes, Sharif was a lone wolf. He’d become one to survive. So why was it that Liyah’s observation snagged on him like a splinter piercing his skin?

‘I trust myself and I ask for no one’s opinion or help unless I want another perspective.’

‘What about your brothers?’

A heavy weight settled in his gut. ‘We didn’t spend time together when we were growing up, so we’re not close. But they trust me.’

As he said those words the weight got heavier. He’d never really acknowledged that before. But they did trust him. They had from the moment their father had died and he’d called them to the board and convinced them that it was in their interest to work together.

He knew that they might not admit they trusted him, and they certainly had their own reasons for wanting to work for the company their father had built up—but deep down there’d always be an affinity. Because they’d all suffered at the hands of their father.

‘But you don’t trust them?’

Sharif frowned sharply. Liyah was skating far too close to the truth, making guilt spike. ‘I trust them as much as you trust your family.’

She flushed at that. He could see her skin get darker. Blood rushing to the surface. His body tightened. What was he doing...provoking her when he had no intention of slaking this lust?

‘You don’t know enough about me to know who I might trust.’

‘Your sister? You sacrificed yourself for her.’

Sharif suddenly had an image of Liyah’s pretty, but far less compelling sister. He couldn’t imagine being in this situation with her and feeling this throbbing, desperate need. Which was not what he’d intended for this marriage.

‘Yes, my sister. I do trust her.’ She sounded defensive.

The car was pulling up to the kerb outside his apartment building now, and Sharif almost lamented the interruption. He found that he was enjoying parrying with Liyah because he didn’t know what she might say next. She was unpredictable.

His door was opened by the driver and he got out and went around to open Liyah’s door. She put her hand in his, the wedding ring glittering in the dark.

His insides clenched as he closed his fingers around hers. He’d never imagined putting a ring on any woman’s finger. But it looked good on her. Better than the other one, which he’d only used because it was an heirloom from his mother’s side of the family. He found that seeing his ring on her hand didn’t make him feel as claustrophobic as he might have expected.

She stepped out, close to Sharif. For a moment he didn’t move, drinking in her scent. Soft, musky. She smelled of heat and flowers.

And then suddenly she wrinkled her nose and looked up, and Sharif saw snowflakes landing on her face. Settling on her cheek.

A slow, awed smile bloomed across her face. ‘It’s snowing!’

Sharif found a smile tugging at his own mouth. ‘That’s usually what happens in New York this time of year.’

She didn’t seem to hear him. She was looking up, totally transfixed. Closing her eyes and laughing softly as more flakes fell, leaving little wet trails down her cheeks.