The Sheikh's Blackmailed Bride (Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid 2)

, but that wouldn’t stop her from—

Catelyn grabbed at her mouse, knocking it off the desk in the process. She scrambled for it, but by the time she had it back up on the desk, Rami was at her side, leaning over. She tried to hit the Delete button on the post, but Rami put his hand over hers. “Wait.”

He took the mouse from her hand as if he owned it and everything else in the world and scrolled up.

He stopped on Catelyn’s favorite picture. The one of her, looking down into her bouquet, the perfect blushing bride. And him, looking at her, his face full of love. It was a punch to the gut.

“You can have this,” he said softly, and she could almost believe they were the only people in the room. “It can be a true fantasy. A real wedding. We can spend a year dividing our time between here, Al-Dashalid, and traveling the world, and then divorce once I’ve achieved my goals.”

“Don’t you—have to be married?” she squeaked.

“Someone more suitable can be found by then.” Rami, apparently, had thought of everything. “In the meantime, we’ll avoid great embarrassment. And your business will flourish. As will mine. No one ever has to know.” He took his hand off the mouse and pushed it back toward hers. “Of course, the decision is yours.”

Catelyn hovered her hand over the mouse. One click, and all this would be over. She wouldn’t breathe in Rami’s scent anymore. She wouldn’t have the chance to stand close to him, even if it was under false pretenses. And…she supposed that the content would remain on TMZ…

She glanced at her friends. Their faces were pale, and they sat frozen on the sofa, waiting. The business hung in the balance.

“Guys…” Catelyn cleared her throat. “I need a few minutes alone with Rami.”

5

Catelyn’s friends leaped up from the couch and dashed into the hallway, shutting the door of the office behind them.

She stared after them, then took a breath in and let it out.

“Perhaps we should sit somewhere more comfortable.”

“Yeah,” agreed Catelyn. “This is a little awkward.”

“That’s an accurate description.” Rami offered Catelyn a hand. She looked at it, then looked into his eyes, having to crane her neck to do it. Then, so tentatively it made his heart squeeze, she put her small hand in his and stood up. He wondered how easily he could lift her into his arms. She was short—very short—and he guessed it would take no effort at all.

They went to the middle of the office, and Catelyn sat down on the sofa. Rami took the seat he’d used before, and they faced each other. Catelyn darted her eyes to the door; Rami followed her gaze. There were four shadows in the crack underneath the door. He cleared his throat, loudly.

The shadows disappeared with a near-silent shuffle, and they were alone.

Catelyn looked at him, her blue eyes so striking it took his breath away. “I think we should start over.”

“How?” She’d been the one to post the blog, so—

“With your…explanation.” She folded her hands on top of her knee, and he knew instinctively that this must be how she sat with clients, seemingly at ease but taking in every detail. “Why, exactly, do you think that getting married would be better than deleting the blog post?”

He felt more vulnerable, somehow, without additional people staring him down. “The biggest reason is family honor.” He didn’t relish the memory of Issam laughing at him. “My brothers would understand deleting it and moving on, but my parents—they would be mortified. We’re the royal family of Al-Dashalid. This kind of…joke…is not acceptable.”

Catelyn bit her lip. “I can see that.” He saw the struggle move across her face like a storm. He wondered if she faced the same dilemma he did—wanting more of her, but needing to keep things locked down. He could not admit to her how often, exactly, he’d thought of her since that night in Texas. If Kyril could marry an American woman—and the true love of his life—why shouldn’t he prove he could do the same? Damn Issam for seeding doubts into his mind.

“Beyond that, your business needs help.”

She frowned at him. “How would you know that?”

“By your blog. I spent some time perusing it, and either you’re bad at posting, or you don’t have as many clients as you’d like.”

“That’s—” Catelyn nodded. “That’s accurate. We don’t have as many clients as we’d like. Or at least we didn’t until TMZ picked up on…the most recent post.” She raised a hand to her forehead and brushed aside a loose wisp of her blonde hair.

“There’s also the way Lydia tried to push you to take a position with her company. I learned that she was your mentor in the past.”

“After college, I was a junior assistant at Morris International in the event planning department. She knew my mother and wanted to pass along her business acumen.” Catelyn pursed her lips. “I guess not enough of it rubbed off.”

“I’m not sure that’s the case. Perhaps it’s only an issue of marketing. Now that you have the attention—”