Page 5 of Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave

Try as she might to make a mental map, Bridget couldn’t keep track of the maze of hallways as they passed through the house. It surprised her that the sheikh was only in a house and not something more grand. Still, when they came to a bedroom twice the size of her apartment with a four-poster bed covered with soft lace fabric, she was impressed in spite of herself. The view looked out on the sea or ocean, whichever it was, with the water gently lapping onto the sand outside her window. If she weren’t the abducted forced guest of a sheikh, it would be the best vacation she’d ever been on. It wasn’t like she could afford to travel on her salary, or ever had time off to take a trip like this.

Of course, if she never got out of here, it wasn’t like she’d have a job either. But prisoners didn’t need those, did they?

“So, what now?” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting down hard on the mattress. Sabella didn’t seem to be carrying weapons, but there was no way to be sure that she wasn’t. Besides, she was no action hero; it’s not like she could successfully overpower Sabella. It was stupid. The only chance she had was to learn as much as she could, to figure out when there might be a better time to get help. “Are you going to paint me up with kohl as well? Maybe you’ll be covering me in a kaftan. Or I’ll have genie pants? Maybe something bangly?”

Sabella shook her head. “If you’d like to be dressed as well as I am,” she said, gesturing to her own flowing dress of bright canary yellow fabric that seemed to still find a way to cling to her hips. “Then we can arrange that. But I know Ravi’s tastes, and he likes to dress everyone up well. You should take advantage of that, American giraffe.”

Bridget swallowed hard. She was called worse than that in high school, but it still reminded of her gangly limbs and, at the time, her knobby knees. Coming from a woman as objectively pretty as Sabella, the taunts hurt even more and cut in deeper. It didn’t matter that she only wanted to go home and had no interest in Sheikh Shamon.

Almostno interest.

Still, Sabella mocking her made her feel low as dirt.

“I’m not a giraffe.”

“Could have fooled me,” Sabella pouted. “I don’t know what Ravi sees in you when he has me.”

Bridget ignored the bite of pain to her heart at that bit of bragging. It didn’t matter that Sheikh Shamon was gorgeous or that he could command a room with his very presence. The man had bought her. Done a deal with her good-for-nothing father and stolen her from her home. She needed to keep her wits about her; it was the only hope she had of escape.

“Well, he didn’t invite you to dinner. Just help me play Barbie dress up for him. Let me get this all over with.”

Sabella shook her head as she opened up the closet. “You should be so lucky. If Ravi really has gone crazy and wants to take you to his bed tonight, remember that there are women all over the United Arab Emirates, and all over the world really, who’d kill for the chance you’re about to have. I know that I would. Not that I’ll have to. He will find only a bit of novelty in making love to a zoo animal.”

“I hate you,” Bridget said, her voice laced with anger.

“I feel the same way, American,” Sabella replied. “But I have my orders for the night,” she said, tossing a dress onto the bed. “This is a Marchesa, and it’s wasted on you, but put it on. You’ll be late for dinner.”

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