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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?”
