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“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.
