Bride Behind The Desert Veil (The Marchetti Dynasty 3)

‘He wanted to give me his contact details. He seems to be looking for a story.’

She looked up at Sharif. His jaw was tight.

‘There is no story.’

The elevator doors were opening now, and in a bid to try and move on from that unsettling encounter Liyah asked, ‘What does Sasha’s fiancé do?’

‘His name is Dante Danieli. He’s an award-winning photographer and film-maker.’

They stepped into a luxuriously decorated function room at the top of the hotel. Staff came and took their overcoats. Sharif took her hand and led her into the room, which oozed elegant sophistication, dressed in a theme of silver and grey and pink, with huge exotic blooms as centrepieces on the tables.

A waiter approached with a tray of champagne. Sharif took two glasses and handed her one.

Almost immediately Liyah recognised Maggie and Nikos, who had spotted them and were coming over. She was surprised at how pleased she was to see them again, greeting them warrmly.

Maggie said, ‘I saw those pictures of you in that one-piece suit and I’m so jealous.’ She pointed to her growing belly. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever fit into anything like that ever again. Not that I would even be able to pull it off! You looked amazing.’

Liyah blushed. She felt Sharif’s arm come around her waist.

‘Didn’t she?’

The warm feeling grew as they chatted companionably with Nikos and Maggie, and Liyah noticed that Sharif seemed less tense than he had before.

And then another tall man approached, with a petite woman by his side. He had dark blond colouring. Short hair. Gorgeous. Maks Marchetti.

‘Sharif. I see that you’re finally having some fun.’ He looked at Liyah, smiling, ‘And this must be the reason why you’ve taken that stick out of your—’

‘Maks!’ his wife exclaimed. S

he put a hand out to Liyah. ‘Hi, I’m Zoe. It’s so nice to meet you.’

Liyah shook her hand and Maks winked at her. ‘Don’t mind me. I just like to wind Sharif up at every opportunity, and it’s nice to see him discover he’s mortal too.’

Sharif made a rude sound beside her. Liyah shook Maks’s hand, momentarily mesmerised by his grey eyes. Very different from Nikos and Sharif. She sneaked a glance between the men as they chatted. Each one as tall and imposing as the other. They packed quite a punch.

Liyah was drawn into a conversation with Maggie and Zoe. It felt quite natural, and she was unable to stay shy for long. They were both so down to earth. Zoe was pregnant too—almost out of her first trimester. She was very attractive, with honey-blonde shoulder-length hair. She had scars on her face that intrigued Liyah, but they didn’t detract from her prettiness.

It was more than a little overwhelming to feel as if she was part of this group of people. And then she felt an acute pang as she acknowledged the fact that she wouldn’t be part of it for long. She and Sharif would divorce and she wouldn’t see them again.

Maks and Zoe excused themselves to go and check on Sasha, who Liyah guessed was the tall woman near the dais. She looked like Maks—a feminine version. Tall. Blonde hair. She was stunning. Wearing a blush-coloured strapless dress. Diamonds sparkled at her throat and wrists, and even from here Liyah could see the huge diamond on her finger.

A man joined Sasha. He was in a tuxedo. Tall and broad. Messy dark hair. He was very masculine, and savagely handsome. He pulled her to his side and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle and blush. She looked happy. Another couple truly in love...?

A dart of envy pierced Liyah before she could stop it. And, suddenly feeling a little too vulnerable to be around Sharif, in case he spotted it, Liyah made her excuses and walked over to where some French doors were partially open. She went outside to the terrace. It was cold, but the first hints of spring on the way could be felt. New life...

London sparkled under the moon. Vibrant and glamorous. It had always been her favourite city. But the desert... That was where her heart lay.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn’t hear Sharif join her, but she felt him when her pulse inexplicably picked up.

‘Penny for them?’

She looked at him, so tall and vital and handsome in his tuxedo. She shrugged and looked back out over the view. ‘I was just thinking of cities...and the desert. I miss it. I think it’s where I feel most at home, even though it can be such an inhospitable place.’

Sharif placed his hands on the terrace wall. ‘You miss your horse and your bird?’

She nodded. ‘I feel free in the desert. Totally at peace.’

He turned and leant against the terrace wall, facing her. ‘When my father sent those mercenaries to kidnap me I blamed the desert for a long time. As if it had somehow betrayed me by not protecting me.’ He grimaced. ‘Obviously I know better, but that’s how the desert is for me—like a living organism.’ His mouth quirked. ‘I’ve since forgiven it.’