‘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. She 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
