Page 20 of Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave

He laughed, and it was a sound as smooth as velvet. “Actually, Adil insisted. He deemed an attraction like this too big a security risk if I were to come here in the midst of crowds. But if this serves to impress you, I’ll take the credit for that as well, my swan.”

She grinned as they passed under the cool tunnels and waved to the small, South African penguins bobbing at the water’s surface and leaping to and fro on the small rock outcroppings. “Still, this is amazing. Everything so far has been indescribable. Just when I think you can’t come up with anything more exciting, you think of something else.”

“It’s not quite a dinner date at the top of the Eiffel Tower,” he riposted.

Her smile widened as she recalled that outing. “You do shut down everything wherever you go. You should just admit it now,” she chirped.

“Well, I open things up, too,” he said as they came to the end of a labyrinthine hallway and turned toward an Employees Only door.

“Is that a double entendre?”

He draped an arm around her shoulder and leaned low to whisper into her and, like always with him, it spread goosebumps running over her skin. “It might be, but only if you’re a good girl.”

Bridget chuckled and kissed his cheek. “I thought you liked me more when I was bad.”

He shook his head and parted from her long enough to shake the hand of the trainer who had just come out of the restricted area. Ravi winked at her before exchanging a few quick words in what she assumed was Arabic with the newcomer. The man nodded briskly and opened the door wide, giving them both full access to whatever lie beyond those doors.

“After you, my swan,” he said, waving his arm towards the room beyond.

She eyed him, unsure of what he’d arranged. It could be anything from petting a horseshoe crab to swimming with dolphins. No matter what he claimed, her sheikh always considered himself a showstopper and was always looking for a way to outdo himself. Bridget passed into the room and couldn’t keep herself from squealing when she saw the female trainer there holding a small, chittering, brown mass in her arms.

“Oh my god!” Bridget said, sounding more like a valley girl than she ever had in her life. She found that Ravi brought that more frivolous and—yes, fun—side out of her. “They’re otters!”

Ravi nodded and watched her carefully, those jade eyes as calculating as always. “They’re baby sea otters to be more precise. They’re about three months old and still too young to be with anyone but their mother in isolation. They won’t be introduced to the group for months yet. Would you like to hold one?”

“I can?”

“Yes,” the trainer, whose name tag read Ashira, said as she handed her the baby. “This is Oscar.”

“Oscar Otter?”

“We have fun with names. Last time we named them after Disney characters. Next year, they’ll be Marvel superheroes. This year, Oscar and Oliver are ‘O’ names.”

Bridget took the little fellow in her arms. He blinked sleepily back at her but continued to chuff to himself, his little whiskers moving every time he did so. His black eyes were deep and soulful, and his thick fur was slightly slick and wet against her arms. Someone had clearly been swimming lately.

“He’s so cute. Aren’t you, Oscar?” she cooed at him.

The otter surprised her by slipping out of her grasp and climbing quickly to perch on her shoulder, as if she were the tallest hill and he’d now become king of the mountain. The pup kissed her cheek or, well, licked at it a bit and then went back to squeaking at Ashira. Bridget was pretty sure that, unlike whales, otters had no language, though at the same time, Oscar certainly had some agenda on his mind.

Ashira nodded and pulled the bucket up from the floor. “He’s a con artist, that one. A born beggar. He’s had most of his sardines already, just had lunch, but would you like to feed him?”

“Of course,” Bridget said, holding out her hand. Ashira showed her how to hold it flat, and she understood why. It was the same with horses. If you didn’t keep your palm flat, then eager teeth might accidentally bite you. The slimy fish was a small sacrifice to make in order to watch Oscar slip down onto her arm and shove the fish quickly inside his cheeks so that they puffed out as he finished chewing his meal. “Okay, that’s the cutest thing he’s done so far. In fact, I somehow have a feeling that Oscar has the market cornered on cute.”

“Oliver has tricks of his own, too,” Ashira replied, nodding to the enclosure. “Would you like to see him?”

She giggled as Oscar snuffled at her hair. “I think I have enough to keep me busy here without dealing with Oscar’s even more ambitious twin. Ravi, do you want to hold either of them?”

Her sheikh shook his head and straightened the lapels of his jacket. “Not in Tom Ford I don’t. Besides, I have something in my pocket, and I don’t want the little guy to steal it from me.”

Curious, Bridget handed the otter back to Ashira, although she promised herself that she’d be grabbing that warm little bundle of sunshine back soon. “Okay,” she said, bringing her hands to rest on her hips and thrusting out her chin. “You have me intrigued—the private tour, the up-close and personal date with the cutest guy in the room—”

“I resent that.”

“Admit it,” she said point to where Oscar was chewing at his front paw with his teeth. “Even you can’t out-cute him.”

“I dunno, does he do the things with his tongue I do?”

“Uh, eww. But also good point. There are things that human guys do that are hotter but Oscar’s cornered cute. He needs his own inspirational desk calendar, is all I’m saying. Still, you’re giving me a full court press, even more than usual. What are you planning, Sheikh Shamon?” She gasped when he pulled a large velvet box, easily the size of his palm, from his pockets. She knew it couldn’t be a ring, both because it was far too early in their relationship and the sheer size of the box, but it was clearly jewelry.

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