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

“Not entirely. I had you to help.”

Catelyn felt warm and contented as they made their way through the ballroom, taking a breather from the last round of conversations. Rami hadn’t been nearly so awkward at this event. He was really listening to her—when she put her hand in the crook of his elbow and gave him the gentlest squeeze, he deftly wrapped up conversations or steered them in a new direction.

She was proud.

Catelyn had braced herself for another repeat of the night she’d first met Rami, but there had been surprisingly little for her to do, other than make excuses when it was time to move on to the next person. Otherwise, he was collected and under control. He was Sheikh Rami, but with an openness that he hadn’t had before.

A bell rang, loud and clear, and a deep male voice announced that it was time for dinner.

The volume of conversation in the ballroom rose as people turned and made their way to the round tables, this time decked out in a rodeo theme. Each centerpiece was made from a miniature saddle.

“How does she think of these things?” Catelyn mused as they sat down.

“I’ve heard,” Rami answered in a low voice. “That our hostess, in fact, hires the best event designers in Texas.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Catelyn warned with a smile. “But she would be happy to hear that you know she never settles for second-best.”

Two other couples joined Rami and Catelyn at the table. One couple was about their age, and Catelyn knew the woman—Rachel—from the beginning of her internship with Morris International.

“I didn’t know you were married,” Rachel said, eyes shining, after the two women had greeted each other and introduced their husbands. “How did I miss that?”

“It was fast,” Catelyn admitted. “I didn’t…announce it beforehand.”

“You should have.” Rachel was newly married herself—Catelyn had attended her wedding a year ago last spring, just before she’d started her planning business—but she looked at Rami from beneath her eyelashes and lowered her voice. “He is delicious.”

“He really is. What have you and Jason been up to? I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t checked in as much as I meant to.”

Rachel’s eyes lit up. “We bought a house!”

“Show me immediately,” Catelyn demanded, and Rachel pulled her phone from her purse.

She got so caught up in looking at photos of the cutest house in all of Texas that she forgot to listen to Rami. As Rachel scrolled to the last photo, it was as if his voice snapped back into range like a radio catching a signal. Rami was laughing.

“Oh, no,” he was saying. “Our distribution model was optimized years ago. I have a team of people dedicated to researching it. But we plan to emphasize our in-house refinery technology when it comes time to partner with new distributors.”

Catelyn looked up from Rachel’s phone. She’d been so excited to see her friend that she hadn’t registered the second couple.

And it was Micheal and Elizabeth Granger, Texas oil barons.

They were Rami’s direct competitors.

“I wish I had an entire team of people to research wedding trends,” she said, knowing even while the words were escaping her that it was a totally abrupt way to break into the conversation.

Elizabeth Granger turned her big gray eyes on Catelyn, a little smile playing at the corners of her lips. “If I’m remembering correctly, you work for a bridal magazine?”

“Actually—” Elizabeth Granger was close enough to Lydia to know that Catelyn was in the planning business, not the journalism business, but never mind all that. “I started an event planning company in New Jersey. And technically I do have a small team of people working with me, but there’s only so much—”

“Catelyn—” Rami let a hint of irritation show in his voice.

“—there’s only so much outside research we can do when we’re busy making sure events run smoothly,” Catelyn finished. She’d long since lost Michael Granger, who’d looked back down at the steak on his plate.

At their side of the ballroom, a six-piece ensemble that had been hired for the occasion struck up a lively tune, and all around her, people got up to dance.

“Oh, Rami, let’s go.” Catelyn stood up and took his hand, insisting through her grip that he follow her.

“I’d love to continue this,” he said over his shoulder as she pulled him away from the table. Far, far away. Far enough that they found themselves on the dance floor just as a slower song began to play.

Rami stepped automatically into position, his hand on Catelyn’s waist, his other hand holding hers lightly. He frowned at her as he moved them around the dance floor.