Page 12 of Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave

Chapter Six

“And so that’s what happened,” she said, biting her lower lip and wishing her best friend would say something, anything.

Cindi blinked back at her with wide, confused eyes. “You were abducted by an oil sheikh?”

“I don’t actually know how he makes his money,” Bridget corrected lamely.

“No, seriously,” Cindi continued standing up and pacing in front of her laptop. “You left the bar like two nights ago, walked across the street to the parking garage, and faster than you can say ‘Allahu Akbar’ you’re in Dubai and in a harem?”

“There is definitely no harem.” She decided not to mention Sabella, in case that woman really did have a special place in Ravi’s heart that he hadn’t admitted to yet. That wouldn’t make her seem less crazy to Cindi. Not at all. “I’m here today, and I’m deciding if I’m going to go home after that.”

“He caught you to let you go?”

“I know. I can’t pretend to understand it either, but he doesn’t want to hurt me or anything bad. I really… it’s hard to explain, but he’s amazing.”

Cynthia shook her head and sat back down at her chair. “He didn’t drug you, did he? He didn’t do anything to make you like him?”

“No, he happens to be gorgeous and charming and, um, talented,” Bridget finished lamely, feeling the blush spread across her face.

Cynthia’s eyes were now the size of hubcaps. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No. Well, not technically.”

“Blowjob?”

She rolled her eyes and reminded herself that her best friend spoke much more freely about sex than she did. Sometimes it made for vicarious funny stories, but often it meant that Cindi would say things out loud that Bridget couldn’t even think, let alone say.

“It was like rounding second base, maybe? Heavy petting.”

Her friend pinched the bridge of her nose. “On one hand, however it happened, I’m happy you’re finally moving on to someone to wash the taste of Kevin out of your mouth.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, admit it. Kevin was a huge loser. We both know it.”

“True.”

“But, I don’t know how happy I should be that now you’ve moved onto some sheikh who kidnapped you. He could be hiding huge secrets or danger from you!”

Bridget narrowed her eyes back at her friend. “He’s the ruler of Dubai, not some terrorist!”

“I didn’t go there, but if you want to talk Freudian slips...”

“No, Cind, you do not get to psychoanalyze me on this one,” Bridget said. “My point is that I don’t know what I’m going to do. All I know is I feel more alive in the last twelve hours or so than I’ve ever felt, and we still have whatever we’re doing tonight, whatever dinner or plans to get through before I decide. I wanted you to know I was safe, and that I’m probably going to be home soon. You know?”

“Just be smart and careful, chick. You know I can’t just replace you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Ditto, even if I hate your cats,” Bridget said, chuckling to herself. “I gotta go. My, uh, servant—for now—Kamala, is coming to help me get dressed.”

“See, now you sound uber-fancy. ‘My servant.’”

“Cind, I know this can’t last. I’ll probably be home soon. Even if it’s all nuts, I have to see where it goes. I’ve spent my whole life being the most boring person on the planet. Now I can at least say I had one grand adventure.”

Her friend nodded and smiled broadly. “Look after yourself and do what you need to do. You just better get back to me in one piece or I will be waging some serious war on this guy all by myself.”

Somehow that made Bridget feel a million times better and no longer as homesick.

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