‘Send me a picture,’ said Sharif, then terminated the conversation with his security officer and went back to the table, sitting down again. He vaguely tuned in to the discussion, but when his phone vibrated in his pocket he took it out again.
He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. An image of a wrapped-up Liyah, her hair reverted to its wild and unruly state since the other night, flowing from under a woollen hat around her shoulders. She was grinning at what looked like an army of small children as they launched themselves at her. In the next picture she was on the ground, covered by the same children, with snow spraying all around them.
Sharif found this utterly incomprehensible. And it was hard to compute how it made him feel. Envious? He rejected that thought. Why on earth would he be envious of—
‘Sir... Sir?’
Sharif looked up from his phone. His chief financial advisor was looking at him with a frown.
‘If we want to put these plans in motion by the end of the month, we need to sign off on this today.’
A jolt went through Sharif. What was he doing? He never let anything distract him from his endgame. And certainly not a woman.
He put his phone away—but not before sending a terse text to Liyah.
Make sure you’re ready at six p.m. It’s a formal dinner, cocktail dress. The styling team will meet you back at the apartment.
Sharif threw his phone down. Why did he suddenly feel like a buzz-kill?
That evening Liyah was the one waiting for Sharif to finish getting ready for dinner. Apparently he was hosting an exclusive event to welcome the new head designer of an iconic fashion house.
Liyah stood at the window, her image reflected back to her, but she wasn’t seeing that.
When Sharif had arrived back, a short while ago, he’d immediately said, ‘Why didn’t you go shopping today?’
Liyah had been genuinely perplexed. ‘Was I supposed to? I have more clothes than I could possibly wear.’
‘Why did you go to the park?’
‘Why not? I wanted to see the snow.’
‘And those kids?’
It had been more like an interrogation than a catch-up on the day’s events. But then she’d reminded herself that this was hardly a regular marriage situation. And Sharif had probably assumed she’d spend the day in a beauty salon or perhaps an opium den.
Liyah had folded her arms, glaring at Sharif, hating how even in a plain dark suit and a white shirt open at the neck he still managed to pack the same punch as if he was wearing a tuxedo.
Or nothing at all.
‘They saw me in the snow. They laughed at me when I told them it was my first time seeing it. And then they started a snowball fight.’
Eventually he’d said, ‘Okay.’
‘Okay?’ Liyah had repeated testily. ‘I am allowed to go outside and play in the snow?’
His gaze had narrowed, become dark and unreadable. Liyah had noticed his unshaven jaw and deep inside a pulse had picked up pace.
‘Don’t provoke me, Liyah. And don’t forget that you’re most likely being followed by paparazzi
at all times. We leave in half an hour.’
Liyah’s hair and make-up had already been done, so she’d just had to put on the dress. It was snowing again outside, making Manhattan pristine.
The sight of the snow mocked her. There’d been something poignant about experiencing it for the first time on her own in the park, despite the kids. And that had freaked her out—because throughout her time away from home over the past couple of years she hadn’t ever felt lonely before. And yet today she’d found her mind wandering to Sharif. Wondering what he was doing. Thinking of the way he’d moved through that room full of people last night. So alone. Tense.
He intrigued her. He seemed so different here from the man she’d met in the desert.
She moved slightly, and the reflection of the dress glittered back at her. It was a simple elegant design—A-line, tea-length, strapless. Dark bronze silk over cream tulle. She wore matching shoes and her hair had been straightened again, slicked back into a low bun at the back of her head. Kohl made her eyes seem bigger, and gold hoops in her ears swung and caught the light.