She’d not slept in her own room since they’d returned from London. She shared his room. Which he’d never done with any woman. But he found that he liked seeing her things strewn around the space. Her creams and lotions in the bathroom. Her scent in the air...
He scowled again. He was definitely losing it. The sooner her allure started to fade—as he was sure it would—the better. It was coming closer and closer to the time when he would make the announcement about selling off the Marchetti Group, and he was aware that he was using Liyah as a distraction to avoid thinking about his brothers.
The car pulled up outside the apartment building and Sharif felt his anticipation build as he got nearer to the apartment door. This was also a novelty. Having someone waiting for him. Welcoming him. He’d always been so careful to keep women out of his private space before.
But not Liyah.
As soon as he walked through the door smells assailed him. Smells of Al-Murja. The desert.
He shucked off his jacket and loosened his tie. Explored the apartment, following the smells to the kitchen. He was prepared to see his chef—but it wasn’t his chef. It was Liyah. She was wearing jeans and a loose shirt. Bare feet. Hair up in a loose knot.
She was listening to jazz, humming to herself. And the smell of the food made Sharif’s mouth water. He smelled spices and lemon. Chicken... Lamb?
He knew he should resist this vision of domesticity. It wasn’t what he’d signed up for with this marriage. But it was more seductive than he liked to admit...
Liyah sensed Sharif and whirled around to see him standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. Tie undone, shirt open at the top. Stubbled jaw. Her belly dipped and swooped. Her heart hitched. She felt shy. Which was ridiculous after what they’d done the previous night.
‘Hi.’
‘You’re cooking.’
Liyah smiled. ‘I can see why you’re CEO—your powers of observation are truly impressive.’
Sharif made a face. He came in, nose twitching. ‘What are you cooking?’
‘I have a couscous, cherry tomato and herb salad. Lamb and pistachio patties. Harissa chicken. Hummus. Flatbread. Here.’
She handed him some flatbread and hummus. He tasted it.
‘That’s good. Really good. Where did you learn to cook?’
‘I taught myself when I was at university. I felt homesick for Taraq and I found that cooking meals that reminded me of home helped.’
Sharif said, ‘I’ll have a quick shower and join you.’
Liyah looked at him. ‘You’re so sure you’re invited?’
Sharif came around the ktichen island and pulled her close, covering her mouth with his. She felt the inevitable spark leap to life between them.
Still there. Not gone yet.
With every kiss now, every night of making love, Liyah was more aware that sooner or later there would come a time when Sharif wouldn’t look at her in quite the same way. Wouldn’t want her with the same desperation she felt.
He let her go and walked out of the room, leaving Liyah dazed and hungry. And, annoyingly, not for the delicious food she’d made.
Later that evening the movie’s credits rolled and Sharif looked down to see Liyah curled up on the couch beside him, snoring softly, glasses askew on her face.
He turned off the TV—another first. Although he had a state-of-the-art media centre installed he rarely, if ever, watched anything except maybe the news.
He felt a sense of something he’d never experienced before, and had to take a few seconds to figure out what it was. Contentment. A sense of peace. This whole evening had been...easy. Pleasurable.
Normally, when he didn’t have a function to attend, he would spend the evening in his study, with a sense of restlessness buzzing under his skin. A restlessness that was now gone.
He made a face. He was losing it. A little home cooking and his brain was scrambled.
He picked Liyah’s glasses off her face and put them to one side. He gathered her into his arms and stood up. She made a sound...her eyes opened. Unfocused. Sleepy. Sexy.
She burrowed closer into his chest and Sharif’s body reacted to her soft curves. As if he hadn’t been in a state of semi-arousal all evening, since he’d returned and found her creating a veritable feast for the tastebuds and senses...
He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but by the time he got to the bedroom with Liyah she was awake and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his jaw. He forgot all about checking his phone to see who was looking for him. He had more important things to attend to.
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN LIYAH WOKE UP the following morning she stretched luxuriously, keeping her eyes closed, revelling in the after-effects of Sharif’s lovemaking. Blinking blearily, she came up on one elbow and groaned softly when she saw the time on her phone. Nearly midday.
This man had turned her into such a sloth. But it was usually dawn before they were falling asleep, exhausted. Last night had been no different.
A voice from behind her said, ‘You’re awake.’
Startled, because she’d thought she was alone, Liyah looked over her shoulder to see Sharif at the window. The sun made her squint, but she could see he was fully dressed in a three-piece suit.
She sensed something was wrong and sat up, pulling the sheet to cover her chest, not even sure why she felt instinctively vulnerable all of a sudden.
‘Morning... Why aren’t you at work?’ He was always gone when she woke.
Sharif stepped towards the bed, out of the sunlight. Liyah could see him now and his expression was stony.
‘Sharif...what is it?’
He folded his arms. ‘Tell me—when do you go into my study to send your messages to Callaghan? When I’ve left the apartment? Did seeing him in London give you the idea to go to him with the scoop?’
Liyah wanted to shake her head. Sharif was making no sense.
She
