Bride Behind The Desert Veil (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Marchetti Dynasty, Book 3) Abby Green (primary phonics TXT) 📖

Sharif’s blood was boiling as he sat beside his brand-new wife. Aaliyah. She now had a name. The woman who had driven him senseless with lust only a few hours ago. The same woman he’d suspected of being a figment of his imagination.

He didn’t believe for a second that she hadn’t known who he was last night. It was too conveniently serendipitous that she’d just happened to visit the oasis when he’d been there.

Someone must have told her that he hadn’t arrived at the palace with his entourage. And she’d come to investigate her future husband. The thought that she’d been laughing at him the whole way through the marriage ceremony, behind her veil, set his nerves on edge.

Little happened in Sharif’s life that he wasn’t in control of. And this was not how he’d envisaged his marriage starting—with his blood boiling over with shock, anger and, even worse, lust.

Even though her body was now covered in the voluminous red and white traditional wedding robes of Taraq, Sharif could picture every dip and hollow. How she’d looked when she’d stepped out of the water in front of him, water sluicing down over endless curves and gleaming skin. The long sleek limbs. Her breasts, perfectly shaped and heavy...the juncture between her legs where dark hair curled enticingly, inviting him to explore—

Dio. He’d planned on making the most of his wife in the coming weeks, having her by his side at as many events as possible to ensure that the Marchetti Group brand was at its most stable and valuable for when he put his plans into motion.

By his side. Not in his bed. And most definitely not under his skin.

The last woman in the world he’d ever expected to see again, who he wanted nowhere near him, was in fact now his wife. And as his wife, she would be in close proximity at all times. Whether he liked it or not.

‘Liyah...you look so sophisticated. I’ve never seen you like this.’

Liyah grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. The shift dress and matching jacket were in pastel pink. She hated pink. She hated anything too girly and always had, preferring a far more relaxed and casual tomboy aesthetic.

She’d barely even taken notice of the women who had measured her up the day after her father had allowed her to take Samara’s place as Sharif’s bride. She’d been too impatient to see her horse, whom she hadn’t seen in months, while she’d been in Europe.

But now she knew why she’d been measured up.

Because her...her husband had provided this going-away outfit. And another bag containing a change of clothes, sleepwear, underwear and toiletries.

She thought she looked ridiculous. Her hair was too wild and unruly for an outfit like this, but it was too late to try and tame it. And, even worse, suddenly she felt nervous. She’d managed to avoid Sharif while the reception had been underway and they’d been surrounded by a hundred people, but now she would be stepping onto a plane with him and there would be nowhere to hide.

‘My hair...my hair is too much.’

Samara stepped up behind her and pulled her hair back into a low ponytail. ‘Your hair is beautiful, Liyah, like the rest of you.’

Samara rested her chin on Liyah’s shoulder and she met her sister’s dark gaze in the mirror. Liyah didn’t even share the same eye colour as her siblings. She really was the cuckoo in the nest.

Samara’s pretty face was serious. ‘Thank you, Liyah, for what you’ve done. You have no idea how much—’

A rising swell of emotion made Liyah turn around. She clasped her sister close before the emotion became too much to push down. ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘I know. Just be happy, Sammy, okay? Marry Javid and be happy.’

At that moment Liyah truly wished for her sister that she wouldn’t be disappointed by love. Or destroyed by it, like their father.

Her sister nodded against her. She pulled back, dark eyes bright with tears. But she forced a smile. ‘I’ll miss you.’

‘And I’ll miss you. But call me any time, okay?’

Samara nodded again.

Maids entered to take Liyah’s bags down to where her husband waited in the royal courtyard and Liyah followed them. Samara was the only one who had come to say goodbye. Liyah hated it that it still hurt. That some small vulnerable part of her had still hoped that she’d be important to her family. To her father.

She stopped in the shadows just under the massive stone archway that led outside. Sharif was pacing back and forth. He saw the maids coming out with the bags and flicked his wrist to look at his watch, clearly impatient. But Liyah couldn’t move.

Gone were the elaborate gold and cream robes of the regal Sheikh—and gone was the wild nameless man who had seduced her into a place of heated insanity last night. In their place was another incarnation...this one even more intimidating.

His tall, lean body was sheathed in an immaculate three-piece dark suit. A white shirt, open at the neck, highlighted his dark skin. He should have looked more civilised. More urbane. But if anything he looked even more elemental. Wild. Dangerous.

Even though she’d slept with him, she felt in that moment that she’d never truly know him, and a little shiver skated over her skin. A kind of premonition that as soon as she stepped out of this shadow and into the sunlight, under his gaze and his protection, her life would never be the same. And she knew it wouldn’t—for obvious reasons, and also for much deeper and more secret reasons that she really did not want to investigate right now.

The self-protective walls she’d cultivated her whole life suddenly felt very flimsy.

The sun was setting, bathing everything with a golden glow. It had been around this time yesterday that Liyah had left the palace to ride out to the oasis.

Suddenly, in spite of everything,