Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid: The Complete Series Page 15

  Catelyn looked back at Rami and could swear she’d caught him giving Daisy a wink.

  “Oh, so you’re in on this? How?” she’d demanded of her brand-new husband. “We planned everything—”

  “I take it you don’t like surprises?”

  “When it comes to weddings, the fewer surprises, the better.”

  “Imagine my shock when I found out I’d been married without my knowledge.”

  The group laughed again. They’d quieted as they rode together to the restaurant and settled in at the table.

  Now, it was…more awkward, once the adrenaline of planning the ceremony had faded, but Laura had called for a bottle of champagne and Daisy a round of cocktails, and now Catelyn was feeling good.

  “Okay, okay,” she said. “Everybody, quiet down. I have to make a phone call.”

  “Right now?” Laura narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t it a little loud for that?”

  Catelyn scanned the restaurant. With the cocktail thrumming through her veins, it seemed like the perfect time. And anyway, she couldn’t let those photos exist in the world without telling her parents the…current truth.

  She pulled out her phone and dialed her mom’s number. Her parents had left two weeks before on a yearlong cruise around the world. Where were they right now, even? It didn’t surprise her that her mother’s phone went to voicemail.

  “Mom,” she said after the beep. “I know you’re going to be pissed off, but I wanted to tell you and Dad that I got married today. His name is Rami. You met him at Lydia’s cocktail party—the extremely handsome one. I’ll explain all of it later. And I’m very happy. Okay. Love you. Bye.” She ended the call and slapped the phone down on the table.

  “Look at you,” said Daisy. “Grinning like an idiot.”

  “I meant it when I said I was happy.” She blew a kiss to Daisy across the table. Catelyn was surprised to find that it was…true. She was happy and feeling more relaxed than she had in days. What miracles a couple of cocktails and some champagne could work on a girl.

  “How’d the three of you meet?” Rami said, leaning back in his chair with his glass of seltzer. He wasn’t drinking, which was no surprise to Catelyn, but he’d loosened up, too. He wasn’t sitting quite so straight and looking seriously at everyone. “University?”

  Catelyn caught Laura’s eye across the table, and the three women cried in unison: “Alpha Beta Pi, till I die!” and dissolved into laughter.

  Rami surveyed all this with a bemused expression.

  “Our sorority,” Catelyn explained. “We were all in the same pledge class, and we stayed friends after college.”

  “And went off to better jobs, I’m assuming,” Rami said lightly.

  There was a beat of silence.

  “What does that mean?” Laura asked, taking a long sip of her cocktail.

  “Catelyn worked for Morris International before the three of you started the planning business. Didn’t the two of you also leave similarly good jobs before leaving to become wedding planners?”

  Daisy looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I don’t follow. Why do you think wedding planning isn’t a good job?”

  “Event planning isn’t without its charms,” he continued, as if it were painfully obvious. “But the business model you’ve set up isn’t a good one. And the industry focus itself is too narrow, in your case. It could be done better. More profitably.”

  Daisy and Laura gaped at Rami, then exchanged a look.

  “You’re wrong,” Laura said flatly. “Our business—”

  “You know what?” Catelyn cut in. She was desperate not to let the excitement of the day slip away. It had already careened into a bit of a sour ending, but it was better to get out now rather than let it devolve into a heated debate. “I think we should call it a night. Which hotel are we booked at?”

  Laura tore her eyes from Rami, and despite his comments, a little smile flashed across her face. “You two are booked at this hotel.”

  “No way. This place is booked out months in advance.”

  “I made some arrangements,” Rami said, and she turned to find a triumphant smile on his face. “In fact, we’re staying in the VIP suite.”

  There was a chorus of goodbyes, during which Daisy whispered, “You have got to teach him to keep his mouth shut,” into her ear. “But he’s hot, anyway.” Then they only needed to walk down one long hallway and take an elevator up to the top floor.

  Rami put the key card in the slot and held the door open for her.

  “Oh, my god,” Catelyn breathed. “This is…beyond.”

  She’d planned a few over-the-top weddings in her life, but this suite? It even smelled like riches. A subtle floral scent danced over the air in the suite, which was centered on a wide living area with graceful sofas and a gleaming coffee table set with a crystal vase full of delicate pink roses. A few steps in, and Catelyn could see into the small but well-appointed kitchen and the master bedroom, where a king-size bed waited with a pure white coverlet. What was the thread count on all that?

  Her heart beat faster as Rami shut the door behind them, and she felt like she’d stepped fully into her new husband’s world. Was it going to be as easy to navigate as Lydia’s cocktail party? Nervousness pricked at her palms.

  “Do you like it?”

  Rami came up beside her, and she found herself going a little weak at the knees. He was…so tall. They were so alone. He smelled so good. And that kiss at the wedding?

  It was too much.

  “I’m going to bed,” she blurted out. “I’m—I’m really tired. I hope you don’t think I’m being rude.” It was a strange thing to say on their wedding night, and she knew it.

  Rami’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing as she turned and went into the bedroom.

  Rami watched her go. “Good night,” he called the moment before she shut the door to the bedroom behind her with a firm click.

  “Good night,” she called back, her voice muffled. And then she was quiet.

  He had half a mind to follow her, but there was something he needed to do first: call his father. Let him know that he’d doubled down on the blog post instead of having her wipe it off the face of the planet.

  Rami folded himself onto one of the sofas and pulled out his phone, dialing his father’s number before he could talk himself out of it. He answered on the first ring.

  “Son,” Zafir, former ruler of Al-Dashalid, said jovially. “How is your wife?”

  Rami matched his tone. “She’s legally my wife now, and not only on the gossip websites.”

  Zafir laughed, a low rumble that Rami could feel even over the phone. “I wondered which path you’d take.”

  “It made good business sense.” Rami rubbed a thumb over his forehead. “She’ll be an excellent connection for the deal with Morris International.”

  “Surely it’s not all business, though? You do like this woman?”

  Rami paused. He didn’t want to get into his emotions, but—it was his father. “I liked her the moment I saw her.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Zafir went on before Rami could let him in on the truth—that the marriage was a business arrangement. “There’s always an adjustment period in any relationship when it grows into a marriage, but as long as you care for each other, you’ll be happy.” His father laughed. “Honestly, I thought you might marry only for advantages in business, knowing you. I’m thrilled to pieces that you’ve found yourself a partner in love as well.”

  Rami’s throat tightened. He certainly wasn’t going to tell his father now. Maybe not ever.

  But Zafir wasn’t done yet.

  “My sons, it seems, don’t do things in the conventional way. But they always find their way to a true love. What more could a father ask for?” He laughed again. “Except for all my children to continue my legacy, of course.”

  Children. He meant children.

  Rami swallowed hard. “Kyril has that handled pretty well, I’d say.”

  “There’s
always room for more on the palace grounds,” Zafir hinted. “And Inan is growing up so fast. Oh—and your mother is demanding that you bring your wife home immediately. She wants to meet her.”

  That didn’t surprise Rami in the least.

  “It won’t be long,” he promised his father. “And you can all get to know her.” And maybe come to love her…just in time for us to get divorced. He pushed the thought out of his head.

  “Travel safely, Son. I’m proud of you. All my love.”

  “All my love.” Rami ended the call and let out a deep breath.

  His family wanted his marriage to be utterly real, and beneath all his posturing, so did Rami.

  Catelyn, on the other hand, did not.

  He was glad she’d already settled the sleeping arrangements. He would keep things businesslike—true to their agreement—and sleep in the second, smaller bedroom.

  Alone.

  8

  “What else did you pack?”

  Catelyn looked at Rami from the plush leather of her seat on the family’s private jet, and her blue eyes narrowed. “Hold on. Did you just ‘is that what you’re wearing’ me?”

  Rami pressed his lips together, drinking her in. The very fact of her on the plane with him made it hard to resist pulling her into his arms and locking her there for the duration of the flight. “I thought we could go over your wardrobe a bit. While we have the time.”

  She gave him a slow smile. “You didn’t answer the question.”

  “I still want to know.” It shut her down, he could see—making demands. Why not soften it a little? “Will you show me?”

  Catelyn laughed. “I’m not doing a fashion show. What if we hit turbulence?”

  “We’ll look together, then.”

  He called the flight attendant to bring Catelyn’s enormous rolling suitcase from where it was stored in the bedroom of the plane, and Catelyn set about unzipping it. They’d taken off from Newark Liberty International Airport that morning, much to the distress of Catelyn’s friends. Laura and Daisy had come to see her off, and before she could board the plane, Laura took her aside. The two women had talked in hushed tones, Laura casting a worried glance in the general direction of the plane, and Catelyn had been frowning when she boarded.

  The frown hadn’t lasted for long. Rami had taken commercial flights a few times in his travels, but Catelyn had never flown in a private jet. He’d relished the delight on her face when she saw the spacious cabin, the pairs of leather seats, the dining table…

  He let her settle in over breakfast—freshly ground coffee and a bagel with honey—while she flipped through a glossy fashion magazine from the Middle East. It would be optimal if she asked about the traditional fashions then, but Catelyn busied herself reading the articles, her eyes lingering on the pictures without seeming to register that anything was out of the ordinary.

  And then it had been time to hint about the dress.

  Catelyn had dressed that morning in a garment that nearly skimmed the ground. The tight bodice hugged her breasts, and the loud pattern was somehow both charming and utterly obnoxious. Honestly, she looked ridiculous. For one thing, she was hiding most of her curves beneath swaths of fabric, and second, the skimpy top would never do for a sheikh’s wife. The people in Al-Dashalid, as much as they might put up with an elopement, they would not be so forgiving of her collarbone and shoulders paraded around the capital city.

  “This,” Catelyn said, holding up a remarkably similar dress, only this one was in blue. She tossed it onto the lid of her suitcase. “And this.” Another long dress with a tight bodice. “And these.” She held up not one, not two, but three bikinis. On and on it went, and not a single formal gown or even a more modest dress or top appeared.

  “And that’s about it.”

  Catelyn stood with a final sundress in her hands.

  “I’ll get you a whole new wardrobe when we land.”

  Catelyn felt like an idiot, but she wasn’t sure why she should. Rami’s eyes were hot on hers, and he couldn’t stop looking away from her face to her bustline. Still, she’d thought the dresses would be appropriate. They were what she’d planned to wear on the cruise she’d had to cancel, paired with a couple of thin shawls. On top of that, this was her time to relax a bit.

  That’s what she’d thought, anyway.

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” She glanced down over herself. The maxi dress she’d worn was one of her favorites. It was printed with huge red flowers, offset with pink splashes of color. “I love this dress.”

  Rami grinned at her, though she could tell he was trying to keep his expression neutral. “Do you know where we’re headed?”

  That was a little much. “Of course I know where we’re headed.” She tried her best to keep the edge in her voice to a minimum. “I also know it’s going to be hot in Al-Dashalid. So what’s wrong with my dress?”

  “It’s a country where tradition is still beloved.” Rami rose from his seat and stood next to her, looking down at the pile of clothes in the suitcase. He picked one of the bikini tops up and let it dangle from his fingers. “You can’t walk down the street in one of these.”

  Catelyn felt herself blushing. “Of course not.” She dropped the sundress into the suitcase as if it had burned her. “That’s why I’m wearing this dress.”

  “This dress…” Rami dropped the bikini top and stepped closer to her, and the hairs on the back of her arms rose at the scent of him. So elegant. So…royal. So hot. “It’s simply not appropriate for accompanying me in the streets of Al-Dashalid.”

  There was something in his voice that made desire coil low in her belly. “What about it?” She’d meant it to be a defensive remark, something to push him to accept her dress, but it came out breathy, soft.

  “These straps, for one.” Rami reached out and ran two fingers under one of the thin spaghetti straps, pulling the fabric away from her skin. She sucked in a breath, feeling herself lean into his touch. It was not businesslike—not in any way—but the connection between them took her breath away.

  “And the zipper…” He trailed those same fingers down the curve of her spine to the zipper at the back of the dress, and Catelyn arched her back into that caress. “Begging to be pulled like this? How could you go out in public in clothes like these?”

  He took his hand away, and Catelyn turned to him. “How dare you,” she whispered.

  Rami was so close.

  “How dare I what?” His expression smoldered. “I’ll do anything I please.”

  “How dare you stop touching me.” She forced the words out and watched as understanding moved into Rami’s mind like raindrops.

  The next instant, he’d closed the gap between them, kissing her as fiercely as he had at their wedding ceremony. Only this time, she was free to part her lips, free to let his tongue explore her mouth, and free to give herself over to his power. She found herself lifted, wrapped her legs around his waist, and locked her arms around his neck. There was hardly enough air on the plane, but she didn’t want to surface from these kisses—she wanted to stay submerged in this forever. Forever.

  Rami moved, as if she were weightless, toward the back of the plane, where the bedroom waited for them. He kicked the door shut behind them with a swift movement of his foot. The next thing she knew, she was on her back on the bed.

  Rami undid his belt with a click of metal, and Catelyn found herself saying, though they had plenty of time, "Hurry, hurry, hurry."

  He bent over her, eyes black with need, and shoved her dress up around her waist. He yanked her panties down to her ankles and off, tossing them into a corner. And then he leaned down and pressed his lips to her hipbone, a hot, lingering kiss.

  That was the only refuge from the storm of their want for each other. Rami climbed on the bed, nudging her knees apart while he reached for a condom in the bedside table, and Catelyn clawed at his shirt. She wanted him closer, and now. The moment his mouth was on hers again, she arched toward him. He was hard,
already searching between her legs, and it took only a few movements of her hips to guide him in.

  He filled her completely in one stroke, a low groan escaping from his lips. She was so aware of every air pocket the plane flew over, the bumps forcing him against every inch of her, and Rami was unrelenting. His hips rocked against her just so, a grinding rhythm against her clit, and it hauled her up and up and up toward release. She was swept under, resurfacing only to think—they can hear us, everyone on this plane can hear us—and then another rush of desire would flood her and she did not care. Let them listen if they wanted to.

  Rami pulsed inside of her, driving in deep, and it shook her to the very top of her climax and shoved her over the edge into a passionate, almost violent, release. She’d tripped some wire in him, too, because he covered her mouth with his and shuddered with his own orgasm.

  They lay there, frozen together, for many long heartbeats until Rami rolled off her, panting. He lay on his back on the bed. Catelyn struggled to slow her breathing.

  “Wow,” said Catelyn.

  He rolled over onto one elbow, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Again?”

  As it was, they barely had time to freshen up before the plane descended into Al-Dashalid, and they returned to their seats in the main cabin. Catelyn watched the country rise up beneath her, and a nervousness she hadn’t felt before gripped her chest.

  “I can’t get off the plane like this.” She put her fingers to her lips. “My hair—my dress—”

  “Don’t let it worry you.” Rami still sounded sex-drunk and pleased. “I’ve got a shawl you can wear over the dress. And your hair looks lovely.”

  The plane touched down, and there was no one to hold them up—it was a simple walk to the stairs and then down. Catelyn held the shawl close around her shoulders, Rami’s hand on her back guiding her toward—

  A man.

  And behind him, a clutch of photographers, clicking away.

  She turned her head to speak to Rami. “Who—”