Bride Behind The Desert Veil (The Marchetti Dynasty 3)

‘Really? You’re really going to pretend it wasn’t you? When Callaghan was the one who got the scoop? You met him—right under my nose in London.’

Liyah’s brain felt sluggish as she recalled the man approaching her, trying to give her his card. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Sharif. Of course I didn’t say anything to him. I didn’t even take his card. Why would I say anything?’

‘Because you disapprove? Because you feel I’m not being fair to my brothers? Maybe you contacted Nikos and he called Callaghan, hoping to cause a bit of chaos so that I wouldn’t go through with it. But I think it was because I gave you privileged information and that was an irresistible currency for you. A way to negotiate the end of our marriage well before time so you could get your precious independence early.’

Liyah’s legs felt like jelly. She sat down on the chair behind her. ‘That’s such a twisted theory... I didn’t do this, Sharif. I swear. Whatever I felt about your decision, your motives...that’s between you and your brothers.’

‘Not any more. It’s now between me, my brothers and the entire world. Our stock has plummeted.’

‘But...wouldn’t this have happened anyway, when you made your announcement?’

‘No, it would have been controlled. And I was always going to tell Nikos and Maks before I did anything. I just wasn’t going to involve them until the last moment.’ Sharif looked at his watch. ‘I have to go. I have to give a press conference this afternoon and then I’m flying to Paris. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’

He went to walk out of the room and Liyah stood up. Before he disappeared, she said, ‘You really believe it was me?’

Sharif stopped. He turned around. ‘You’re the only one who knew the full extent of my plans. I hadn’t even revealed them to my own staff. They were kept in a safe in my

office, and the only person who has the code is me.’

Liyah felt sick. Sharif walked out. She stared at the empty space for a long moment. Until she heard Sharif speak with Thomas and then the ping of the elevator doors.

He was gone.

Liyah was too numb to process what had just happened. She showered, dressed... Sat on the couch in the lounge and watched Sharif give his press conference a couple of hours later, trying to limit the damage.

Thomas enquired if she wanted to eat, but she had no appetite. At some point she went out and walked the streets for blocks and blocks. Always aware of the security man tailing her. She was almost surprised he was still there...

The speed with which Sharif had turned on her, choosing to believe that she could have possibly—Her stomach roiled.

When she finally returned to the apartment it was empty. She slept in her own bed for the first time since that first week she’d arrived in Manhattan.

When she woke at dawn she was gritty-eyed. She checked her phone. No calls, no messages.

Days passed in a hazy blur. Liyah saw news reports about how the board of the Marchetti Group were holding crisis meetings. She saw pictures of Nikos and Maks leaving the Paris office, as grim-looking as Sharif, and her heart ached.

They would hate him for not trusting them. The damage would be irreparable.

And then, just like a few months ago, when her sister had called her and begged her for help, Samara needed Liyah again.

And Liyah saw no reason not to go to her—because there was nothing for her here any more.

When Sharif arrived back at his Manhattan apartment all was quiet. He knew Liyah wasn’t there. He knew she was in Taraq with her family. Her sister was getting married within the next fortnight, sooner than expected. He’d been invited, but he’d declined.

He shrugged off his jacket and undid his tie. He went straight to his drinks cabinet and poured himself a stiff whisky. Not that whisky had done much to help in the last two weeks since he’d left. But it had blurred the edges and helped him forget the dreams that haunted him most nights. Dreams of her. And of treachery.

The liquid burnt its way down his throat. He poured another. The world was in flames around him. Everything he’d worked so hard to achieve was ruined. His father was laughing at him from his grave. His mother... His heart constricted. He’d failed her.

And all because he’d lost his focus. He’d let his brain migrate to his pants. He’d forgotten a lifetime of lessons in trusting no one but himself. He’d allowed a siren with huge green eyes to lull him into a false sense of security. To make a fool out of him.

His phone rang in his pocket and he took it out. Saw the name. He smiled mirthlessly and restrained himself from throwing the phone at the window.

He answered it, saying, ‘Haven’t you done enough damage, Callaghan? Tell me—did you know that first night that my wife would betray my trust? Did she come to you or did you approach her? Actually, I don’t even want to know.’

He emitted an expletive and terminated the call, throwing the phone down.

It pinged almost immediately, but Sharif ignored it. He was bone weary.

He walked through his empty apartment, noting that it was exactly how he remembered, before Liyah had arrived.