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

moved back into her corner of the car, as if she wanted to get a better look at him. It made Sharif’s skin prickle with awareness and something else. Exposure.

‘You’re a bit of a lone wolf, aren’t you?’

‘You don’t need anybody else, Sharif!’

Those words had been hurled at him too many times to count over the years. His mother had said them too, but with the emphasis on it being a good thing. She’d said, ‘You don’t need anybody else Sharif. Don’t trust anyone. Trust yourself. You are your own best friend. You’ll know what to do.’ She’d learnt a harsh lesson at the hands of his father, when he’d betrayed her trust, stolen her inheritance and broken her heart.

So, yes, Sharif was a lone wolf. He’d become one to survive. So why was it that Liyah’s observation snagged on him like a splinter piercing his skin?

‘I trust myself and I ask for no one’s opinion or help unless I want another perspective.’

‘What about your brothers?’

A heavy weight settled in his gut. ‘We didn’t spend time together when we were growing up, so we’re not close. But they trust me.’

As he said those words the weight got heavier. He’d never really acknowledged that before. But they did trust him. They had from the moment their father had died and he’d called them to the board and convinced them that it was in their interest to work together.

He knew that they might not admit they trusted him, and they certainly had their own reasons for wanting to work for the company their father had built up—but deep down there’d always be an affinity. Because they’d all suffered at the hands of their father.

‘But you don’t trust them?’

Sharif frowned sharply. Liyah was skating far too close to the truth, making guilt spike. ‘I trust them as much as you trust your family.’

She flushed at that. He could see her skin get darker. Blood rushing to the surface. His body tightened. What was he doing...provoking her when he had no intention of slaking this lust?

‘You don’t know enough about me to know who I might trust.’

‘Your sister? You sacrificed yourself for her.’

Sharif suddenly had an image of Liyah’s pretty, but far less compelling sister. He couldn’t imagine being in this situation with her and feeling this throbbing, desperate need. Which was not what he’d intended for this marriage.

‘Yes, my sister. I do trust her.’ She sounded defensive.

The car was pulling up to the kerb outside his apartment building now, and Sharif almost lamented the interruption. He found that he was enjoying parrying with Liyah because he didn’t know what she might say next. She was unpredictable.

His door was opened by the driver and he got out and went around to open Liyah’s door. She put her hand in his, the wedding ring glittering in the dark.

His insides clenched as he closed his fingers around hers. He’d never imagined putting a ring on any woman’s finger. But it looked good on her. Better than the other one, which he’d only used because it was an heirloom from his mother’s side of the family. He found that seeing his ring on her hand didn’t make him feel as claustrophobic as he might have expected.

She stepped out, close to Sharif. For a moment he didn’t move, drinking in her scent. Soft, musky. She smelled of heat and flowers.

And then suddenly she wrinkled her nose and looked up, and Sharif saw snowflakes landing on her face. Settling on her cheek.

A slow, awed smile bloomed across her face. ‘It’s snowing!’

Sharif found a smile tugging at his own mouth. ‘That’s usually what happens in New York this time of year.’

She didn’t seem to hear him. She was looking up, totally transfixed. Closing her eyes and laughing softly as more flakes fell, leaving little wet trails down her cheeks.

Surprised, Sharif said, ‘You’ve never seen snow before?’

She shook her head, making her hair ripple over her shoulders like black silk. She opened her eyes. They were a darker green in the dim light. ‘Never! It feels like being kissed.’

Sharif’s gaze dropped to Liyah’s mouth. Soft, infinitely tempting. He was about to reach for her, put a hand under the coat to find her waist, tug her towards him so he could—

Stop. The voice sounded in his head. What was he doing, being tempted by such rudimentary tactics? She was trying to entice him.

Of course she must have seen snow before—she’d been in Europe.

But they were out on the street, with people passing. No doubt paparazzi lurking. And it was for that reason and that reason only that Sharif decided he would give in to her ruse and tug her closer, cover her mouth with his.

He heard her surprised little gasp. For a second he revelled in the feel of her yielding, melting against him, head tipping back, mouth softening. He ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth and had to stop a growl of satisfaction when she opened to him and he delved deep into her sweetness, fast forgetting why he had decided to kiss her in the first place when he knew it was a bad idea.

He sensed the change in her just before she tensed, her hands coming up between them. Sharif lifted his head. It was snowing harder now, with thick, fluffy flakes landing all around them and on Liyah’s hair, face.

She blinked. ‘Why did you kiss me?’

Because you couldn’t not, whispered a sly voice.

In his peripheral vision Sharif saw a flash of light. ‘Paparazzi. Shame to waste an opportunity to give them something to print tomorrow.’

Liar.

Sharif let Liyah push him back. She took a step to the side but then made a sudden jerking movement when her foot slipped on the icy ground.

Without even thinking, Sharif scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the apartment building, where the door was being held open by his security staff.

Liyah was still too much in shock to say or do anything as Sharif