Page 29 of Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave

“Baby, don’t be like that.”

“Get out!” she said, before ducking back into her apartment and slamming the door in his face.

***

It ached.

It ached so badly to be in D.C., to be less than an hour from where his habibi—his true beloved—lived and not to be able to see her or hold her. He knew what her own refusal to talk to him had told him, what Cindi had told him, what logic and decency even indicated, but he was still tempted after this museum visit and publicity event to go to see her. In fact, he’d probably have Adil bring his limo around early. He respected her autonomy, and he never wanted to be his father, to arrange marriages or force relationships, but he couldn’t be in the same damn area she was and not try in person.

She was worth fighting for, and if Bridget truly didn’t want him anymore, then he would live with that. But still, he needed to see it in her emerald eyes and hear it from her own lips.

He was surveying the latest exhibit for the National Museum. Ravi had donated a few rare Monet’s for the event, and it was in his best interest, PR-wise, to make an appearance. As he rounded the corner, he came face-to-face with someone he never expected to see again: Dean Callahan.

The man cleaned up well overall, but he still had patches of stubble on his face, indicating he’d shaved in a hurry and his rental tux was obviously a few years or more out of fashion. An illusion, like always with a thief.

“What are you doing here?” Ravi asked, his voice a low growl.

Dean smiled with a knowing expression that irked the sheikh even more. “I called in the last of my favors.”

“You may regret wasting those if you’re here casing the exhibit.”

“I’m not because I have a better lead. I don’t know what happened between you and my little girl.”

“She’s hardly a daughter you care about.”

He shrugged and sipped his flute of champagne before grabbing a second quickly from a passing waiter. “No, but I bet I know something about her that you don’t.”

“I highly doubt that,” he said, trying to force his bravado. Actually, if Dean had even talked to her in the last almost five months then that would put him ahead of Ravi. “What do you want, Callahan?”

“Is that anyway to treat family?”

Ravi gritted his teeth at such a poor joke. “We’re not family. I can’t even get Bridget to talk to me.”

“Then you must be losing your billionaire playboy touch,” Callahan noted.

“You have sixty seconds before I have you kicked out of here. I’m a very powerful donor to the Smithsonian so I’m sure they’ll be happy to oblige and remove the vermin for me.”

“Well, Dad, I’d hate to do that. I mean, now that Bridget’s pregnant, we really are family, aren’t we?”

“She’s what?” Ravi asked, his head spinning. There was no way that he was hearing what he was. If Callahan were telling the truth that meant that she was carrying his child and hadn’t even told him. “You either lie, or she lied to you. It can’t be mine.”

“She tried to hide it, at least at first, but congratulations, sheikh; you’re part of the Callahan Clan now. So, seeing as how we’re related now, and we both care about Bridget, maybe you could spot me a loan?”

Blood boiled in Ravi’s veins. “No. You get nothing from me, and you get nothing—ever—from Bridget. You leave her alone. You’ve caused her nothing but pain.”

Callahan laughed. “Then that makes two of us, Ravi. I saw her just yesterday. She was wrecked, clearly been crying a lot, and it wasn’t about me this time. So, you need to ask yourself: are we really that different?”

“Yes, because I’m going to go see her now, and I will be there for my child, no matter what. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He tried turned to leave but Dean grabbed his arm. “What about the tabloids? Is this something you want the rest of your sheikh buddies to know about? I’ll talk to The Enquirer!”

Ravi rounded on him, snarling and pinning the man to the nearest wall. “You’ll do nothing of the sort. You leave my child alone, and you leave Bridget alone. I already love them both, and they’re not dirty secrets. You get the hell out of my life.”

“Sir,” one of the guards from his staff strode toward them. “Do you need help?”

“Yes, Nabeel. Please detain Mr. Callahan here, and then call the cops. I’m sure there’s something to detain him for.”

“With pleasure, my sheikh.”

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