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She gazed up at him as he turned in the middle of the floor to face her. “Really?”
He nodded. “I’m the first to kick-start the tradition between myself and my three best friends to have a ballroom installed in the palace with checkered flooring. After each of us marries we get to celebrate every important occasion in it with our better halves.”
He clapped his hand and a single spotlight lit up a small orchestra in the corner of the room. They broke into a piece of composed music that shivered down her spine even before she stepped into his arms and they glided around the floor alone.
She looked up at him with a smile. “To think I hated dance tuition.”
“Mm. To think I hated the idea of installing a ballroom.”
She giggled. “Looks like we were both wrong.”
He nodded. “I think this ballroom is going to make a great tradition.”
“And I’m betting your ballroom won’t be the only one we step foot in over the next couple of years.”
He arched a brow. “You think all three of my friends will find a wife by then?”
“Of course.” She slid her hands down to his ass and squeezed, then added softly, “Every powerful sheikh needs a loving woman to pull them into line.”
His eyes glinted. “Then I truly hope they, too, get their happily ever after.”
The huge chandeliers above them suddenly lit up and all the birthday guests moved out of the shadowy sides of the ballroom then began to partner up and join them on the dance floor. Even Arabelle’s dad pulled his wife into his arms and smiled over her shoulders at Arabelle.
Something in her chest moved. This was the family she’d always wanted. This was what she wanted her children to have.
She grinned at her husband’s planned setup, loving him so much it hurt. “You outdid yourself for my birthday.”
He winked. “Anything to please my wife.”
She looked toward the bar at the end of the ballroom, where one of his best friends stood with a drink in his hand as per usual, and with half his hair dragged into a plaits as though in an afterthought. Sheikh Hamid had the Johnny Depp vibe going on, and his liquid dark eyes looked amused by all the fuss.
She nodded toward him and said, “Hamid is next.”
Mahindar threw his head back and laughed. “The day I see him build a ballroom with its checkered floor for his wife—anywoman—will be the day he actually wants to be a sheikh.”
She smiled up at him, and reached her arms up to wind them behind his neck. “Maybe we need to show him what he’s missing out on.”
Mahindar smiled and said huskily, “Maybe you’re right.”
When he bent his head and their mouths fused, Arabelle knew without a doubt that being here, with her husband, was the only place she’d ever truly belong.
