The Sheikh’s Blackmailed Bride (Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid Book 2) Read online

  “Rami,” boomed Zafir. “Tell us you won’t take her with you to Texas.”

  “I would never leave her here with you wolves,” Rami joked. “Aside from that, Catelyn wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “It’s true,” said Catelyn. “I wouldn’t want to miss a moment with Rami.”

  There was a chorus of awwwws from the assembled group, and Inan giggled. “Are you hungry, grandson?” Zafir asked him, eyes shining. “Let’s sit down to dinner.”

  Her stomach growled. They hadn’t stopped to eat on the plane, and Catelyn was ravenous, though surprisingly she was not nervous about her first meal in Al-Dashalid. They went through to a large, light-bathed dining room, where a full spread waited for them.

  The food—well, it was a revelation. They worked their way through a traditional Middle Eastern feast. Catelyn had the best lentil soup of her life, followed by lamb shawarma, the meat so tender it melted on her tongue.

  “Tell us about your business, Catelyn,” Daya prompted mid-meal.

  Catelyn’s heart squeezed at the thought of her friends back in the States by themselves. She’d check in as soon as she had a chance, she decided. No reason to leave them hanging.

  “It’s a wedding-planning business I started with my two best friends from college.”

  “Best friends?” Zafir was curious. “Doesn’t that make things more difficult?”

  She thought of Laura’s go-getter attitude and Daisy’s charming smile. “No, not at all. We’ve had our disagreements, but being so close has made it easier to smooth things over. We always start from a foundation of respect and care.” She was almost getting a little choked up at the thought of it and blinked away a sheen of tears from her eyes.

  “You miss them,” commented Adira softly.

  “They’re great,” Catelyn said, getting ahold of herself. “You’d like them.”

  The conversation turned to other things, and before she knew it, the group was moving back into the sitting room. Inan played in the center of the room with a small red ball, and the adults chatted amongst one another. Issam seemed a little more withdrawn after what had happened in the SUV, and he watched quietly from an armchair.

  Rami got into a discussion about the Texas deal with his father, and Catelyn yawned. It was then that Adira appeared at her side.

  “Come walk with me,” the beautiful young woman said.

  “Gladly.” The two women stood and walked into the wide palace hallway, the evening sun streaming in at an angle that made Catelyn’s heart ache.

  “I’ll be honest,” Adira said without preamble. “Issam told me about the blog post.”

  Catelyn’s cheeks heated. “Oh, god…”

  “I didn’t want you to think you had to hide it from me. My parents, on the other hand—” She laughed. “They have no need of that information, and none of us are going to give it to them.”

  “That’s—thank you.” She was so relieved.

  “I think it’s a sign.”

  “I—what?”

  Adria looked at her. “I like you, and now that we’ve had a chance to meet…it’s confirmed my feeling.” She grinned at Catelyn. “I think that post was fate, telling my brother to find you and marry you for real. And does it matter, in the end, how things started? As long as they end in happiness?”

  * * *

  Catelyn was still thinking of Adira’s words when she lay next to Rami that night, her husband in a deep sleep. Adira had made her feel so welcome.

  But a doubt nagged at her.

  Was it still a fantasy if it was destined to end?

  10

  “What was I thinking?” Catelyn groaned. “You were right. I can’t wear any of this. Especially not to the reception.” Her clothes had been hung up in the closet in the suite of rooms she and Rami were sharing in the palace, and they taunted her from her hangers. “What am I going to do?”

  He leaned against the bed, the long lines of his body tempting. They hadn’t had sex since their arrival in Al-Dashalid two days ago, though Catelyn found herself tossing and turning in the middle of the night, craving his touch. More than once, she’d thought of shaking him awake and demanding what she wanted, but—would that push things over the line? She thought it might.

  “Darling.” Rami crossed his arms in front of his chest. “There’s no need to worry.”

  “Of course there is. Your mother planned this reception. I can’t waltz in in a stupid maxi dress.”

  “Then let’s call the car.”

  “Call the car? To go where?”

  “I want to take you shopping.” Rami crossed the space between them and closed the closet door with a gentle hand. “That’s what I came up here to tell you. I’ve made an appointment.”

  “Where?” She’d looked up some of the shopping districts in Al-Dashalid, and fashion was ripe for the picking. Several famous designers had stores, and her mind raced at the thought of them.

  Rami gave her a wink. “You’ll see. Are you ready to go?”

  She checked herself in the full-length mirror next to the closet. She wore the best outfit she had—a black maxi dress with wider straps. It could easily be paired with a colorful shawl, and she’d be good to go.

  But not for the reception.

  It was a grand occasion to celebrate the success of a new STEM program the royal family had founded with some of the proceeds from Rami’s oil deals. Zafir was very proud of the program, boasting to Catelyn that they already had more applicants for funding than they could take. “Your husband will have to make some more deals,” he’d said with a wink at last night’s dinner.

  “Where are we going?” Catelyn peppered Rami with the question more than once as they climbed into the black SUV. “I have a few designers in mind.”

  “Trust me.” He was being cryptic. She rolled her eyes but took his hand in hers. It felt so natural, the gesture. And anyway, it had to look that way—even if the only watchful person in the vehicle with them was the driver.

  The reception was to be a gala event, fitting for the royal family, and in the car on the way into the heart of the city, Catelyn’s thoughts flitted from designer to designer, wondering which store they’d visit first.

  The driver didn’t let them out at a designer storefront, though.

  They made their way through the historic market center and turned onto a narrow street lined with wide shops.

  “What—”

  “You’ll see.” Rami patted her hand.

  The driver let them out in front of one of those shops, and Rami opened the door for her.

  It was not a place for off-the-rack clothing. One step through the door, and Catelyn’s breath whooshed out of her lungs. The space was wide and long, and every inch of it was filled with sumptuous, colorful fabrics.

  A man in dark clothing waited for them, his glasses winking in the light. “Sheikh Rami,” he said, a wide smile on his face. “Welcome.”

  “Murat. It’s good to see you.” Catelyn matched Rami’s steps as he went to shake hands. “This is my wife, Catelyn.”

  Every time he said it, it felt a little bit less like a farce.

  “A vision,” Murat said, offering his hand to her.

  “Oh, thank you,” Catelyn said. It put her at ease, that was for sure.

  “Catelyn, this is Al-Dashalid’s best dressmaker. He’s the trusted clothier for members of the royal family.” She blushed at that. For now, at least, she was a member of the royal family.

  “And as usual, the royal family has provided instructions." Murat beamed up at Rami. "Are we ready to begin?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Murat swept back into the store toward a well-lit fitting area surrounded by stacks of luxurious fabrics. Catelyn’s excitement grew.

  “What does he mean by instructions?” she whispered to Rami.

  “It means my mother has called ahead with a color scheme,” he whispered back. “You’re going to love it.”

  Everything she saw, she liked. It was all
gorgeous. “You were right,” she admitted. “This is nicer than a regular store.”

  Rami’s face was the picture of contentment. Of course it was. He had been right, after all.

  * * *

  Rami sat back in a plush armchair, watching Murat create miracles out of fabric. He’d pulled a rack of dresses out from a narrow hallway, all of them gorgeous and bright, and all of them matching with exactly what his mother wanted for the event.

  None of them fit Catelyn at first. Every single one swallowed her when she walked out of the dressing room, but Murat approached each one with a flurry of pins. When he was done, they fit her like a glove. Like a dream.

  And she loved it.

  Catelyn, he could tell, was trying to act nonchalant, but her face was flushed pink. She turned in front of the three-way mirror, admiring herself.

  He caught her eye in the mirror as Murat stepped away from the latest dress. She smiled, her eyelashes lowering, and he had to surreptitiously adjust himself. With the dress hugging her curves like that, it was all he could do not to bend her over the very chair he was sitting on.

  “What do you think?” asked Murat neutrally.

  “I love this one,” Catelyn said immediately. “But this is—what, the fifth one I’ve loved?”

  “This, plus two more,” Rami said, and her eyes went wide. “What? I like to look at my wife in clothing as beautiful as she is. I’d pay anything."

  “Rami,” Catelyn murmured. “You can’t simply order clothes for me. It’d be like ordering for me at a restaurant.”

  “Oh, I can.” He leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. “We’ll have many other events to attend. Why not be ready? If you want,” he said with a little grin, “we can make a second trip.”

  Murat laughed.

  “Why would we do that?” Catelyn looked at him with narrowed eyes in the mirror.

  “So you could pretend it wasn’t extravagant.”

  “Fat chance of that,” Catelyn said with a snort. “These are the most gorgeous things ever to touch my body.” She gave him a look in the mirror that send a bolt of want straight through him. “Very nearly.”

  “Two more, then?” Murat said briskly. “Let’s try on the last style.”

  Catelyn disappeared into the dressing room, and Rami let his thoughts wander over what he’d do to those dresses after they were finished at the reception. He was lost in the fantasy until Murat came to his side.

  They were alone, but he still used a hushed voice. “Sheikh Rami, your wife—” He hesitated.

  Rami was on his feet in an instant. “What is it?”

  “She’s refusing to come out of the dressing room.”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  Rami went down the hall to the dressing room and rapped sharply on the door. “Catelyn? Are you all right?”

  “I’m not coming out,” she said, sounding…perfectly fine.

  How utterly irritating. “You have to.”

  “I’m not coming out,” she repeated, fabric rustling. “I want—”

  Rami opened the door and barged in.

  Catelyn stood next to a low couch, undressed except for a matching bra and panty set.

  “—a surprise,” she finished.

  He could not tear his eyes from her.

  Rami stuck his head back out the door. There was no sign of Murat, who must have gone to his front office to give them some privacy. He pushed the door so it was nearly shut and came to Catelyn, closing the distance in one long stride, and took her in his arms.

  “You are irresistible,” he said in a low growl, and with a little sigh, Catelyn parted her lips and let him in. He backed her up against the wall of the dressing room, lifting her off the ground, and his body shivered with the delight of touching her. It was as if she’d been made for him. It took no effort to lift her to his height, and the way she wrapped herself around him—it nearly undid him. Every time.

  He pressed her back into the sumptuous fabrics hanging from the wall and she arched her back toward him, little moans escaping her throat. His blood thrummed in his veins. He could rip those scraps of clothing off her right now. Rami dragged his lips over her collarbone, and she tipped her head back, exposing her neck to him. He licked up the length of it.

  “Rami—” She was breathless, urging him on, and he surged toward her—

  There was a knock at the door, and he whirled, Catelyn in his arms, to face Murat.

  The dressmaker raised his eyebrows, then reached for the handle of the open door. “I’ll meet you in the front,” he said, as if this happened all the time. “You’ve made a gorgeous selection, Sheikh Rami.”

  11

  “This isn’t a good idea.” Rami crossed his arms over his chest, facing off with Catelyn at the edge of a smaller dining room in one of the quieter wings of the palace. Standing in the light from the floor-to-ceiling windows, he was heartbreakingly handsome.

  Catelyn reached up and traced the line of his jaw with a fingertip. “It’s a wonderful idea. And all you have to do is make small talk.” She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “After all, you said you wanted me to make you better. This is how I’m going to start.”

  “We’ve already started in other ways,” Rami said, and the heat in his voice might have drawn her in entirely if Adria hadn’t arrived with their other guests. He turned, putting a smile on his face that seemed perfectly genuine to Catelyn, though she knew he was nervous from the flicker of anxiety that went through his eyes.

  “Adira, who have you brought to put up with us?” He greeted his sister, and Catelyn stepped up beside him, tucking her hand into his elbow and giving him an encouraging squeeze.

  Adira was glowing, radiant, her dark eyes dancing at the prospect of a couples’ tea party with her older brother. When Catelyn had come to her with the idea, she’d laughed out loud for several minutes. “Rami? At a tea party?”

  Catelyn had nudged her with an elbow. “Give him some credit.”

  Now here they were, being introduced to Hassan and Karima, a young couple Adira’s age. “We met at a social gathering for young entrepreneurs,” she said as they sat down at an intimate round table near one of the windows. “They got married last summer.”

  “Entrepreneurs?” Rami sounded cynical. “Are you a young entrepreneur, Adira?”

  She dismissed him with a flick of her hand. “I could be, if I wanted to.”

  “You couldn’t,” Rami said with a little laugh. “You have royal duties, to begin with, and—”

  “Let’s play our game.” Catelyn gave Rami a big smile and a meaningful look. “Who’s ready?”

  “I am,” offered Karima, whose oval face was framed by dark hair that fell in a sharp line to her shoulders. “Unless you want to explain it first?” She shrugged, a self-conscious grin on her face. “This is funny, isn’t it?”

  “It’s an old strategy I learned back in my sorority days,” Catelyn. “A way to prep for interviews and…other occasions. Do you all have your cards?”

  “I have mine.” Adira waved hers in the air in front of her.

  “And mine.” Hassan was game, though he kept exchanging looks with his wife that made it clear they found this business highly amusing. Catelyn liked them instantly, because even if they thought it was funny, they were clearly committed to taking it seriously. Hassan cleared his throat. “I’ll go first.”

  “Weren’t we waiting for an explanation?”

  Catelyn turned to Rami. “The game is simple. They ask questions, you answer.”

  He stared at her, then slowly shook his head. “You’ll be the death of me.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she said briskly. “Hassan, go ahead.”

  He shuffled the cards in his hands and read the one on the very top. “What sport are you the worst at?”

  Rami laughed out loud. “That’s a ridiculous question. For one thing, there are too many sports I’m not expert in. And to debate the merits of—”

 
“Rami!” Adira cut in. “This should be an easy answer.”

  “Fine,” he said, with a barely disguised roll of his eyes. “The sport I’m worst at is tennis.” He waved a hand in the air. “Next question. Next question.”

  Karima was up next. “When you’re about to lose a business deal, what do you do? Cut and run or double down?”

  Rami stared at her. “I don’t love that this is insinuating that I lose business deals. I can count on one hand the number of people who—”

  Catelyn nudged him gently with her elbow. “Here’s a new strategy,” she said quietly. “When you hear the question, instead of jumping right in, stop, think of your answer, and then say it.”

  He gave her a skeptical look.

  “Try it,” insisted Catelyn. “You think fast enough that there won’t be a noticeable delay.” And, she thought to herself, it might make his answers less off-putting.

  “My turn,” said Adira. She looked her brother in the eye. “Please describe the perfect woman.”

  There was a pause during which Catelyn’s heart leapt into her throat. She half expected Rami to dismiss the question out of hand while also going to great lengths to explain why it wasn’t a legitimate question in the first place.

  Then he spoke.

  “Petite,” he began. “Blonde, her hair just past her shoulders. Blue eyes, the color of the sea.” Catelyn felt her face heating up. “Laugher like a summer day. Confident and funny. Brave.”

  He finished speaking and glanced at Catelyn for confirmation.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adira, Hassan, and Karima sharing a knowing look.

  “What?” Rami asked. “Did I take too long to answer?”

  A burst of laughter escaped her. “No, I’m just—I can’t believe you—” She tried again. “Your answer was perfect, and it was very charming.”

  “Good,” he said, nodding seriously. “That’s good. Next question.”

  She sat back in her chair as Hassan read another question off. Was it possible that Rami hadn’t realized he was describing her? Was he only listing those characteristics by rote, just to have something to fill the silence after his thoughtful pause?