Bride Behind The Desert Veil (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Marchetti Dynasty, Book 3)

by Abby Green

  But now the world exploded in their faces as the wall of paparazzi caught sight of them and en masse trained their lenses on Liyah, in the glittering sequinned catsuit.

  A couple of hours later, Liyah was sleepily curled into Sharif’s side in the back of the car. to her surprise Sharif had deigned to stay for longer than a nanosecond at the club. He’d even—shock, horror—gone onto the dance floor with her. She smiled to herself at the memory.

  Her ears were still ringing slightly after the loud music, so she was only half aware that Sharif was talking to someone on the phone. But then her ears pricked up.

  ‘It worked very well,’ he was saying. ‘Felipe’s reaction alone made it worthwhile attending.’ And then, ‘There are? Already? Send them to me.’

  Sharif terminated the conversation.

  Liyah sat up. He was looking at his phone and she saw an image of herself. She looked closer, not feeling sleepy any more. ‘Is that me? From tonight?’

  Sharif angled the phone towards her. There were a few images of them on the red carpet. And also some grainy ones from inside the club. A rush of hot exposure came back to her as she saw herself straining closer to Sharif on the dance floor, her arms twined around his neck, every point of their bodies touching. She was looking up at him and she looked utterly besotted.

  ‘The pictures from tonight are already going viral. I think it’s safe to say that the news of the opening of Felipe Sanchez’s new club will fade into insignificance next to the pictures of you in that catsuit.’

  ‘Who is Felipe Sanchez?’

  ‘Someone who needs to be monitored. He’s not a threat now, but if unchecked he could become one.’

  Liyah felt sick as the evening took on another connotation. ‘So he’s a rival?’

  Sharif said, ‘You could describe him as that.’

  ‘And this evening was about deflecting attention from him,’ Liyah surmised flatly.

  She handed back Sharif’s phone and moved away, towards the car door. The rush of betrayal was all too familiar. Along with the sense of exposure. And self-recrimination for having thought for a second that tonight had been some kind of date.

  She said, ‘I’m under no illusions that this is a real relationship, but I would appreciate it if you would inform me the next time you’re intending to use me as a pawn in your quest for world domination.’

  Sharif felt the bite of his conscience. He heard the hurt in Liyah’s voice. Impossible not to. And the fact that he was so attuned to another human being, probably for the first time since his mother had died, was an uncomfortable sensation.

  She said accusingly, ‘That’s my image that’s going to be plastered all over the internet tomorrow.’

  ‘Your image has already caused quite a stir on the internet,’ Sharif pointed out.

  ‘Yes, but not while wearing a sequinned zebra print catsuit.’

  Sharif felt the distance between them like a physical thing. He didn’t like it. He wanted to reach for her, but knew not to.

  ‘You look amazing. That’s why you’re currently breaking the internet.’

  ‘Maybe I don’t want to break the internet.’

  Sharif shook his head. ‘You have no idea how stunning you are, do you? Who taught you that you weren’t beautiful?’

  He could see Liyah flinch minutely, and he wanted to curl his hand into a fist and punch someone.

  ‘Tell me again about that guy you were with.’

  ‘He wasn’t anyone important.’

  ‘He made you feel insignificant?’

  He saw her swallow. When she spoke her voice was husky.

  ‘He was just a guy at my university. As you can imagine, coming from Taraq, I was less...worldly than most other girls my age. He singled me out—made me feel special. I thought he was attractive, but now I can see that I was confused by the attention he was showing me. I was used to standing out because of my height and my colouring. But he seemed to see beyond that.’

  ‘What happened?’ Sharif had to curb the violent urge he felt at the thought of such a man uncovering her sensual beauty and not appreciating it.

  Liyah shrugged, looked down at her lap. ‘He had a bet with his friends that he could get me into bed after one date. I... I was eager to live a modern life. I wanted to lose my virginity, to feel mature, independent...’ She looked up. ‘He won the bet.’

  Sharif emitted a crude Italian swear word in response. He reached for Liyah, unable to resist any longer. She was tense, but she moved closer. She was sinuous under the delicate fabric and he had to curb the urge to rip it from her body there and then. He’d already given in to the storm of lust this bodysuit had unleashed earlier.

  ‘He was an idiot. And he didn’t deserve the gift you gave him.’

  Liyah’s heart hitched. She didn’t doubt Sharif’s sincerity.

  She couldn’t believe she’d told him of her humiliation, but the hurt she’d been feeling upon discovering how he’d manipulated and orchestrated this evening was fading into insignificance next to the way he was looking at her right now.

  His hands found where her hair was slicked back into the bun and he undid it, letting it unravel down her back and over her shoulders. He cupped her face in his hands.

  ‘Never let anyone make you feel small, Liyah,’ he said. ‘You are stunning, and you have a power that I don’t think you even recognise fully yet. You’re formidable.’

  Liyah’s heart did more than hitch this time. She quickly tried to negate it. Remind herself who she was with—a man who undoubtedly was a master at complimenting needy lovers. The thought of lovers made her want to hiss and spit...

  ‘You don’t have to say that.’

  ‘I know,’ he said simply. ‘But it’s true. And if the thought of those pictures really upsets you then I’ll have my team take care of removing them.’

  Liyah blinked. ‘You would do that?’

  He nodded. ‘I could certainly limit them.’

  Liyah asked, ‘Will they be good for your business?’

  Sharif hesitated for a moment, and then he said, ‘In a word? Yes. More than you know.’

  ‘Then it’s okay—leave them out there.’

  ‘Are you sure? We have a window to limit this right now, but if we wait till morning it’ll be gone.’

  Liyah shook her head. She put her hands on Sharif’s chest. ‘No, it’s okay. I know you’re not used to answering to anyone. But next time... Just let me know. Okay?’

  Sharif’s mouth tipped up on one side. ‘Deal. Now, will you let me make it up to you?’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Like this...’

  He pressed the button to make the privacy screen go up between them and the driver, and then he reached for the zip at the back of the suit, pulling it down so that he could peel the suit over her shoulders, down her arms and away from her chest, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze.

  ‘Sharif...’ Liyah said weakly as he bent forward and cupped one breast.

  He looked at her and arched a brow. ‘Yes?’

  ‘We shouldn’t...not here.’

  He blew on her nipple, before flicking out his tongue to taste the hard tip. It hardened even more. Liyah bit her lip.

  ‘Do you want me to stop?’

  Never. Liyah was on fire.

  She moved back, drawing Sharif with her so he loomed over her supine body. ‘No. Don’t stop.’

  He smiled and it was wicked. ‘Your wish, Mrs Marchetti, is my command.’

  And even in the midst of Sharif’s lovemaking Liyah knew that something had happened here in the back of the car. Something that she didn’t want to look at too closely. Because she sensed that, far from renegotiating this marriage as a purely physical thing, they’d moved way beyond that now.

  Or, fatally, she had.

  CHAPTER NINE

 
Two days later, London

  LIYAH LOOKED OUT at a spectacular bird’s eye view of London—naturally. Sharif’s apartment was the penthouse of one of London’s most exclusive hotels. On one side was the Presidential Suite and on the other Sharif’s apartment.

  Liyah could see the iconic Tower Bridge nearby, and all the way up the Thames to the London Eye.

  As per Sharif’s schedule, which was emailed to her now, they were here for the engagement party of Sasha and her fiancé. Sasha was Maks’s younger sister, but no relation to Sharif or Nikos as she’d had a different father.

  Liyah was curious to meet Maks and his wife—and Sasha. And to glean more nuggets of information about Sharif.

  She still felt a little tender after Paris. Tender from the revelation that she could no longer ignore.

  She’d fallen in love with Sharif. And it had happened in spite of everything she’d experienced that had made her want to protect herself from such vulnerability. She knew how those who were meant to love you most either left you or just...didn’t love you.

  It had happened with the speed and impact of an unstoppable train. And she knew why. Because, contrary to that first time, when Liyah had felt ‘seen’ by her lover, she now knew she had not been. That had been wishful thinking on her part—a need to justify allowing someone the ultimate intimacy. But with Sharif...she really did feel seen.

  Literally, in her first interaction with him, she’d been naked.

  But it was more than that. She felt an affinity with him that she’d never felt with anyone else. Not even her sister. She saw a kindred spirit in his self-isolation. His lone wolfness. It resonated in her because she’d always been alone too.

  Now, for the first time in her life she didn’t feel alone.

  And it was so dangerous—because for Sharif this was still very much physical. And she sensed that, while her own defences had ultimately been too weak to withstand him, his defences were far stronger.

  His life was built around avenging his mother’s betrayal and death. He hadn’t spelt it out like that, but she’d guessed it. He had a singular ambition and Liyah was a momentary diversion, helping him to that end.

  But what of that end? What would happen if and when he did avenge his mother? Would he have peace then? Or move on to the next challenge?

  ‘Ready?’

  Liyah turned around, startled out of her reverie. Sharif stood in the doorway to the palatial lounge in a black tuxedo. She sucked in a breath, still not used to the punch to her gut every time she saw him.

  ‘Yes, I’m ready.’

  This evening she was wearing a black silk dress. It had a high neck and long sleeves, and fell just below her knee. A gold belt cinched in her waist and the flowing fabric. It was paired with black high heels. She felt covered up and relatively demure, which was welcome after the other night in Paris and the catsuit.

  The morning after that night at the club she’d woken to find it torn and in tatters. Much to her mortification. It hadn’t survived intact after Sharif’s lovemaking in the car, and then when they’d arrived back at the apartment, the zip had got stuck and Sharif had ripped the fabric asunder. Not that Liyah had objected at the time.

  But, considering how viral those pictures of her in the suit had gone after that night, Liyah figured the designer had got his value from it. She just prayed he wouldn’t ask for its return.

  ‘You’ve left your hair down,’ Sharif commented.

  Liyah walked over to him, growing warm from the heated look in his gaze. ‘Did you want me to put it up?’

  He shook his head and curved a hand around the back of her neck, tugging her towards him. He pressed a swift kiss to her mouth, and even that had Liyah moaning softly. Since the other night, it was as if any restraint was a thing of the past.

  They’d even made love on the plane on the way from Paris to London. A flight that had taken less than two hours.

  When he touched her like this, or made love to her, it was easy to pretend to herself that it was just physical, but she knew it wasn’t. For her.

  The engagement party was being held in one of London’s most iconic hotels near Hyde Park. When they arrived in the main lobby, Sharif was approached by a man Liyah had never seen before. He introduced the man to her as the Marchetti Group’s head of European PR. Liyah smiled, but lost interest as the two men engaged in a conversation about strategy.

  She saw an eye-catching modern painting on the wall nearby and wandered over to take a closer look. When she felt a presence close by she looked up with a smile on her face, expecting to see Sharif, but it wasn’t Sharif, and it took her a second to place who it was.

  The man put out his hand. ‘We met in New York, shortly after your wedding. I believe it was your first public event with your husband?’

  Liyah instinctively recoiled, remembering the reporter who had confronted Sharif at that first event at the Metropolitan Museum. ‘Mr Callaghan, isn’t it?’

  He smiled unctuously and she recoiled even further.

  ‘Well remembered, Mrs Marchetti.’ He took a card out of his pocket and held it towards her. ‘I just wanted to give you my contact details, in case you ever feel you want to share what life is like on the inside of the world’s most successful—’

  The card was plucked out of Callaghan’s hand before Liyah could touch it. She breathed a sigh of relief as Sharif pulled her close. His voice was icy.

  ‘Aren’t you a little far from home, Callaghan? And this is a private family event.’

  The man stepped back and held his hands up in a mock show of humility. ‘What can I say? I just happened to be in London at the same time.’

  Sharif made a rude sound. ‘Clear off, Callaghan. You’re not welcome.’

  Sharif led Liyah away, and threw the card into a bin as they passed through the lobby. She felt a prickling at the back of her neck, as if the man was still staring after them, but when she looked around he was gone.

  In the elevator, Sharif said tightly, ‘What did he want?’

  ‘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...