Read Online Marriage Behind the Fa?ade by Lynn Raye Harris - Free Book Online

moment she wondered if she’d heard him correctly. But no, that was what he’d said. “You didn’t tell him about the divorce? Why not?”
    Malik’s fingers on the wheel were strong, sure. She dragged her gaze from them and concentrated on the stubborn set of his handsome jaw.
    “Because it is our business, not anyone else’s.”
    She could only gape at him. “But we’ve been apart for over a year. Don’t you imagine he’s suspicious?”
    “People do attempt to reconcile, Sydney.” He glanced into the rearview mirror, changed lanes smoothly and quickly. “Unless you wish to spill our personal problems tonight, I suggest you pretend to be happy.”
    Pretend to be happy. As if a river of hurt had not passed between them. As if she could simply flip a switch and act as if her heart hadn’t broken because of this man. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
    He shot her an exasperated look. “It’s not difficult. Smile. Laugh. Don’t glare at me.”
    She folded her arms across her breasts. “Easier said than done,” she muttered.
    Malik’s fingers flexed on the wheel, his tension evident. “It’s one night, Sydney. I think you can handle it.”
    Ten minutes later, they were driving through the palace gates and pulling up to the massive entry. Malik told her to wait, then came around and helped her from the car. He tucked her arm into his and led her toward the entry. All along the red carpet lining the walkway, men in uniform bowed as they passed.
    And then they were inside the palace, and Sydney was trying very hard not to crane her neck. She’d seen opulence before, of course. She’d shown houses to the very rich, and she’d lived with Malik for a month in Paris. She knew what wealth could do.
    But this place was more than she’d expected. Crystal chandeliers, mosaic tiles, Syrian wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl, Moorish arches and domes, delicate paintings on silk, marble floors.
    Her heels clicked across the tiles, the sound echoing back down to her from the vaulted ceiling. “Did you grow up here?” she asked, and then wished she hadn’t spoken. Her voice sounded very loud in the silent rooms, as if she’d shouted the question rather than whispered it.
    “No,” he said curtly. His body was tense, but a moment later she sensed a softening in him. As if he were trying to follow his own advice and pretend they were not on the edge of disaster. “My family was not in the direct line for the throne. Adan came to power when our cousin died, and then our uncle afterward. It has been an adjustment for all of us, but for him most of all.”
    “‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown’,” she quoted.
    “Henry the Fourth, Part Two,” Malik said without pause.
    “I didn’t know you liked Shakespeare.” They’d gone to the opera a couple of times, to the ballet once—but never to a play. Why had they never discussed Shakespeare? She’d wanted to study literature and art in college, but her parents wouldn’t hear of it. It was a business degree or no degree.
    Liberal arts majors worked in the food service industry, according to her father. Business majors made the world go around.
    “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, habibti.”
    But before she could ask him anything else, they reached a door with two guards stationed on either side. One of the guards opened the door, and then they were entering what looked to be a private area that was infinitely homier than the palace they’d passed through.
    A very attractive, but otherwise normal-looking couple came to greet them. It took Sydney a few moments to realize this was the king and queen of Jahfar. The pregnant queen, with her long tawny hair streaked with sun-kissed highlights, looked more like a California girl than Sydney did.
    “Call me Isabella,” the queen said when Malik introduced them. Sydney instantly liked Isabella. King Adan, on the other hand, was imposing. He and Malik were the same height and breadth, but Adan looked