Bride Behind The Desert Veil (The Marchetti Dynasty 3)

The building itself was simple. Two-storey. She could see through it to corridors and columns, to inner courtyards around which she knew would be arranged rooms and quarters.

She wanted to ask What is this place? But she didn’t want to give Sharif the satisfaction.

He came to a stop in the main courtyard, ringed with vibrant bushes and flowers. It was like an exotic outdoor hothouse. Liyah had never seen so many examples of desert plants in one place. It was magical.

He got out and came around and opened her door. She was tempted to stay put, but the thought of Sharif putting her over his shoulder again made her scramble out.

She looked behind her to see the main gates closing again. A man in a white thobe appeared and Sharif gave him the keys to the four-by-four. Then he kept on walking into the building.

With the utmost reluctance, Liyah followed.

Sharif knew she was behind him. He felt her presence in every cell of his body. Regret and self-recrimination burned in his gut. He didn’t blame her for being angry. He had betrayed her in the worst way.

The moment he’d seen her trademark unruly hair, barely contained by the shawl, he’d known immediately it was her—as if he wouldn’t have guessed from the way she moved. Or her green eyes when she’d looked at him.

He led her into a shaded courtyard, where a table was laid out with refreshments. He turned to face her. She was looking around her. Her body was tense.

‘Please, help yourself.’

She looked at the table. And then at him. Folded her arms. ‘I don’t need anything. Can you just tell me whatever it is that can’t be expressed through our legal teams?’

‘Did you hear what I said back at the palace? I know you didn’t do it.’

‘I told you I didn’t do it a month ago. You had a choice at the time to believe me or not. It’s too late now, Sharif.’

She turned away, but Sharif caught her hand. That physical contact of skin on skin made his body tighten all over.

‘Liyah, will you please let me explain...?’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE HURT THREATENED to overwhelm her, but Liyah pushed it down, not wanting him to see it.

As if she wasn’t that bothered, she turned back, taking her hand from his. ‘Fine—knock yourself out.’

She sat down on one of the chairs at the table, crossed her legs. She heard Sharif sigh and sneaked a glance. He was running a hand through his hair. She noticed belatedly that it was longer. And his jaw was stubbled enough to be halfway to a beard. She’d been too angry to notice before now. Too upset. She felt a dart of concern. Then quashed it.

‘The truth is that as soon as I was informed of the leak I wanted to believe that you were responsible. I pushed aside any other possibility because I’d trusted you with information that I hadn’t shared with anyone else. Not even my brothers, for fear my plans wouldn’t proceed as I’d wanted.’

‘How did you find out?’

Sharif sighed again. ‘I think I always knew in my heart. But it was Callaghan who told me that it was one of my own aides. The man hacked into my safe and copied the documents. News of what I planned was too incendiary to make him resist leaking. He went to Callaghan, my brothers, the board, hoping that by doing so he’d stop the company from breaking up and save his own job in the process, or get promoted to a better position by one of my brothers, in return for the information.’

‘How did your brothers react?’

Sharif emitted a caustic laugh. ‘How do you think? They were livid. Exactly as you said. But, worse than that, they were hurt. I betrayed their trust badly. And yours. But now we’ve reached an agreement, and hopefully a solution. We’re not dismantling the Marchetti Group. It’s going to be rebranded The House of Noor—named after my mother. Dismantling everything my father had built up was always the focus of my revenge. I never really considered the legacy we’d built—me and my brothers—since he died. I was too blinkered. But you helped me start to see things differently. I had to acknowledge that my relationship with my brothers had changed. I didn’t want to admit that, though, because I didn’t want to admit that I cared about them as much as I did. I’m taking my mother’s name too—officially. I’ll be known by my Al-Murja title from now on. I’ve left it up to my brothers to decide if they want to hang on to the Marchetti name or not. Maks doesn’t care too much. But I know Nikos will probably change his name too.’

A lump formed in Liyah’s throat. She hated it that she cared about the fact that he’d managed to fix things with his family. And that he’d managed to honour his mother in such a profound way, by taking her name for himself and the company.

She finally looked at him. ‘Why did you blame me if you had a shred of doubt?’

Sharif came and sat down on the other chair. He leant forward, hands linked loosely between his thighs. Liyah averted her gaze, but that was just as bad because she couldn’t look away from his eyes.

‘Because I realised how close you’d got. How much I’d instinctively trusted you. When I never trusted anyone in my whole life before. Yet within a month of meeting you I’m telling you my innermost secrets and sharing my life with you in a way that crept up on me.’

‘I am your wife,’ Liyah pointed out with an astringent tone. ‘There’s a certain amount of trust and cohabitation expected.’

Sharif stood up. Paced back and forth. When he spoke he sounded frustrated. ‘I know that. But in my arrogance I believed I could marry someone—anyone—and not have them impact my life in any meaningful way except for the way I dictated.’ He faced her. ‘But then you came along and blew it all up. From that night at the oasis, nothing was the same again.’