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

‘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