Page 6 of Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave

Chapter Four

“My sheikh, I do not advise this as a course of action. We have such good will from the Americans currently, so many of their wealthiest expats live here. It would damage Dubai’s public relations to know that you abducted one of their citizens.”

“I don’t intend for it to become public knowledge, Adil,” Ravi said as he poured himself a cup of tea. He wasn’t an adherent Muslim and allowed himself pleasures of the West like alcoholic drinks, but he wasn’t sure what refreshments Ms. Callahan would want and he wanted to set the pace by being in full control of his faculties. Sipping the Darjeeling, Ravi eyed his servant. “I’ve thought of all the risks, believe me. I’m not flying off half-cocked like you think I am, old friend.”

Adil winked at him. “Well, I can’t imagine how I’d become worried when you’ve been planning things out so well so far.”

Ravi drummed the fingers of his left hand on the table. “I know you practically raised me since Father was too busy, but that doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.”

“I’ll refrain from that, my sheikh, but do try not to get the might of America mad at us.”

“I won’t,” Ravi said, taking another sip of tea. “Besides, I can’t explain it. I’ve never been like this before. I know it sounds insane, but I just saw her photo and I felt drawn to her. It felt as if it were fate. As if the hand of Fatima, herself, was guiding us together.”

“Poetic.”

“Perhaps, but I can admit that I can think of more uses for her than I could for her sniveling excuse for a father. It’s those eyes—”

“Yes, they’re quite lovely, totally worth risking the wrath of a nuclear power.”

Ravi snorted. “No one will find out. I plan to wine and dine her, not hold her prisoner. I’m going to earn her love. I won’t touch her, not unless I have her absolute permission. This isn’t about some outdated conquest or harem. It’s about the feeling that there could be something between us.”

“I suppose, sir, but I’d be a poor friend if I didn’t advise you to think things through. Errors of the heart were your father’s specialty, and they threatened to wreck this nation more than once.”

“I won’t repeat his mistakes, believe me,” he said, donning a megawatt smile as Sabella opened the dining hall doors, addressing her. “I assume Ms. Callahan is joining you?”

Sabella’s expression was nominally a smile, but there was something forced and feral about it. Tough; she’d have to get used to the fact that Ravi never had serious intentions with her. She was fun, but never the type of woman who could serve as a sheikha.

Wait, am I thinking that far ahead?

Did he want to put that role on Bridget? He didn’t know her yet, but he did feel that she was someone he could have more than a fling with, someone who could help break the oppressive spell of his boredom. At least she seemed to have more going on in her life than Sabella did, with her college education and all of that.

“So, Sabella?” he said, tapping his fingers on the table. “Is she coming?”

“She’s right behind me, Ravi, but if you want a better guest, then I’ll be happy to entertain you,” she purred.

“I’ll pass tonight, and every night that Bridget is here,” Ravi rejoined.

She pulled back red lips over her teeth. “Then I hope it’s a short visit.” Sabella, seeming to remember who she worked for, turned and called over her shoulder, “Well, giraffe, time to get your feed bucket on.”

“Adil,” Ravi called, feeling his blood boil. “Feel free to take Sabella on a walk by the shore and remind her at length how we treat our guests…”

He stopped then, the words seeming to die in his throat, even as Adil led Sabella out of the dining room through the servants’ exit. It barely registered to him. Instead, his eyes were trained on Bridget as she slipped into the room, her head held high. The long gold, tear-drop earrings emphasized the delicate curves of her swan-like neck. Her black dress, a slinky number highlighted with dark red rosettes that mirrored the dark red of her lips, skimmed her knees. It wasn’t long as he thought it would be. Sabella might resent their newcomer, but she still complied with her sheikh, and Ms. Callahan looked ravishing.

So ravishing, in fact, that he was glad the wood of the table blocked her view of his lap.

Ravi coughed to try to get his equilibrium back. “You look lovely.”

“I look as I was ordered to,” Bridget replied, before taking her seat.

“Still, you look gorgeous. Just as I knew you would. I could see your beauty even in a billowy graduation robe and a cap; you took my breath away.”

She quirked her chin back at him and spooned out the tabbouleh, a mix of tomatoes and green onions mixed with lemon among other herbs and vegetables, onto her plate and then complimented it with pita and hummus. “I bet you say that to all your captives, Sheikh Shamon.”

“You may call me ‘Ravi,’ if you like. In fact, I’d prefer it.”

“I’m not sure if I’m ready for that step, Sheikh Shamon,” she said, deliberately enunciating his title. “Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was leaving a bar in Baltimore and now I’m in Dubai… which is where, again?”

“United Arab Emirates,” he corrected offhandedly, trying not to let the tenor of the exchange throw him.

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