Bride Behind The Desert Veil (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Marchetti Dynasty, Book 3) by Abby Green (free e reader .TXT) 📕

Sharif was used to women fishing for compliments, and was accustomed to handing them out without even thinking, or really meaning them. Empty platitudes. Exactly what he was expected to say. But this was uncharted territory for him.

‘You are...perfect, Liyah.’

She looked away. He saw that the hands on her bag weren’t quite steady.

A spike of concern made him say, ‘What is it? Is something wrong?’

She moved one slim shoulder up and down. ‘I guess I’m not really used to this level of attention.’

Sharif thought of those photos of her cavorting on yachts and falling out of clubs in slinky short numbers that were most definitely not haute couture. The spike of concern faded. Yes, she came from a royal family, but he appreciated that his world was a step up in levels of sophistication. Still, he had no doubt that she’d become accustomed to his world very soon.

Sharif put down his glass. ‘We should go. My driver is waiting.’

He crossed the space between them and was about to take Liyah’s elbow to guide her out when he stopped. Her scent filled Sharif’s nostrils. A new scent. Tones of heady musky flowers conjuring up images of the hot dry desert, where exotic flowers bloomed in the most unlikely places. Like deserted oases.

‘My ring. My wedding ring. I forgot to put it on.’

Liyah was looking up at him and Sharif realised she must be wearing heels, because her plump, lush mouth was close enough for him to see that it was slicked only with a nude sheen. Nothing as garish as red or pink lipstick.

Close up, he could see that the green of the dress made her eyes pop, and that kohl and dark shadow had turned them a light smoky green. All in all, her make-up was subtle, merely enhancing her natural beauty.

He blinked. The ring. ‘You don’t like wearing it?’

She made a face as she pulled away. ‘Sorry, it’s lovely—I’m just afraid I’ll lose it or something.’

She turned to go back to her room—presumably to get it—and presented Sharif with a view of her smooth back. He swallowed a sound of frustration that she was getting to him like this, and forced out, ‘Wait. I have something here.’

She’d distracted him enough that he’d forgotten. He’d ordered a replacement ring, because he’d seen that the other one didn’t seem to fit.

She turned around and came back.

Sharif took a small box out of his inside pocket. He opened it and she looked down. He saw her inhale. It made her breasts swell against the dress. Blood surged to his groin and he clenched his jaw.

‘Try it on.’

He took it out of the box and held out his hand, not even sure why he was insisting on doing it himself. Her hand was cool in his. Small. He slid the ring onto her finger. She drew her hand back and the ring sparkled, making him feel like a fraud. He cursed himself. Since when had he grown a conscience?

She looked at the ring. ‘You didn’t have to change it.’

Sharif put the empty box down on a nearby table. ‘It’s fine, I should have consulted with you in the first instance. Let’s go.’

Liyah sat in the warm cocoon of the sleek car, with a couple of feet between her and Sharif. A couple of feet that she was grateful for, because she still hadn’t quite recovered from seeing him waiting for her dressed in a classic black tuxedo.

The suit was clearly bespoke, showcasing the powerful lines of his body. It made him look even taller and broader than he usually did. But, while he wore the suit with the utmost elegance and propriety, Liyah wasn’t fooled by the sophisticated veneer for a second.

He’d placed a voluminous fur coat over her shoulders before they’d left the apartment. She’d looked at it suspiciously, and he’d said drily, ‘Don’t worry—it’s fake. We only work with designers who reject the harming of animals for their designs.’

She’d been grateful for the luxurious warmth when the cold Mahattan air had hit her like a slap in the face upon emerging onto the street. But after the initial shock, she’d breathed in the sharp air gratefully. It was her first time out of the apartment since she’d arrived. Till now, her only encounter with the outside world had been from her terrace, many floors above the streets, heightening the sense of unreality, which had only been compounded by the activities of the last two days.

She glanced at the new ring on her finger again. He’d surprised her, noticing that she hadn’t felt comfortable with the other one. Except this one made her uncomfortable too—but for very different reasons.

It was...beautiful. And relatively discreet.

It was a diamond in a circular setting, surrounded by small baguette emeralds that extended outwards on either side. It was unusual, and something she might have actually picked for herself. But she chastised herself for thinking even for a second that he’d put any thought into it. Not when a veritable army of people had attended to every aspect of her ‘look’ for the last forty-eight hours.

She’d been pulled, squeezed, trimmed, measured, massaged and used as a mannequin upon which hundreds of different dresses, trouser suits, jumpsuits, casual clothes, swimwear, coats and shoes had been tried.

She’d even been consulted on what scents she preferred by a perfumier, and a signature scent had been mixed and sent to her within twenty-four hours in a beautiful crystal bottle with her name on it, embossed with gold leaf.

And underwear... Underwear so delicate and fine that it made her blush just to look at it.

The previous night Liyah had dreamt of Sharif’s big hands, flicking aside wispy bits of lace from her body so he could get to her skin. She’d woken trembling and hot. Aching inside.

Liyah slid Sharif a quick furtive look. He was looking out of his window, his jaw hard. Remote. His thick hair was brushed back, curling on the collar of his coat slightly.