Page 4 of Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave

Chapter Three

The electrical jolt of the Taser knocked Bridget out cold. When she awoke, she found herself lying on an overstuffed leather sofa in what looked like a beach house. The room before her was decorated in cool blues and whites with tessellated tile everywhere. She could see water lapping against a nearby dock outside of the nearest window. Struggling to sit up, she wanted to scream her frustration when she found her hands were bound with something thick like rope behind her back. But if she screamed, she might make people come running for her. She might alert guards.

Bridget looked over her shoulder and did scream when she saw that the guards were already there: the three men who had abducted her were now armed with not just Tasers, but also machine guns. Besides them in traditional, flowing Arab robes were at least six other large men that were armed to the teeth. Her heart beat so hard against her chest that she worried it might actually burst through.

So much for trying to escape.

Before she could even think of anything to say, three new people strode into the room. One was a woman who had to be almost as tall as she was, but far curvier with dark hair that fell almost to her waist and heavily kohl-lined eyes. The second was a man who was bent by age and had a long, white beard. The final person to enter seemed to saunter into the room and radiated power. He was tall and seemed to cast a shadow even over Ms. Va-Va-Voom. His shoulders spread wide under the fabric of his perfectly-tailored suit. She was sure that the suit cost more than a few months of her rent.

The truth was, he didn’t need it. Whoever this man was would have looked amazing in a plastic garbage bag. Dark hair, the color of midnight, hung down to his shoulders in loose waves; his high cheekbones cut sharply across his face, and his eyes, the color of cut jade, were hypnotic.

Despite everything, an unusual warmth flared in her belly at the sight of him. It took more effort than she wanted to admit to push that away. Everyone averted their eyes and bowed low, making it easy to tell that this newcomer was the one in charge here. Who was he?

Come on, Bridget, forget those big green eyes. This guy has to be the head honcho, which means he’s the reason you’re even here.

“Who are you?” she asked, holding her chin up high and eyeing Mr. Tall, Dark, and In-Charge.

“I’m Sheik Ravi Shamon, and I’m your host here in Dubai. In fact, I’m the sheikh of all of Dubai; the ruler of all you see in the entire city. All of the territory.”

“What does that have to do with me?” she asked, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to keep it level.

“It has a lot to do with you,” he said nodding to the old man who stepped forward and cut her arms free.

She rubbed at her wrists and rolled her shoulders, grateful to have the circulation spreading back through her fingers. “I don’t see how it does.” Bridget wanted to run, to try and escape, but she could see at least nine guards with guns trained on her and no clue where she was, or how many more guards were waiting out of sight. Judging by the tropical scenery, there was no way she was anywhere near Baltimore anymore. The only hope she had was to play along and watch for a chance to escape. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“But I know you, Bridget, at least a little bit. Your father, Dean—”

“I know my father,” Bridget interrupted. “He’s a jerk. I haven’t seen him in almost five years, not since my university promised not to press charges on him for trying to steal a priceless statue from the campus art museum. It took a lot of begging for them not to. It wasn’t like I could ever show my face back on campus again.” Her eyes widened and it began to dawn on her exactly what had to have happened. “What did my father do now?”

The sheikh inclined his head and strode over to her. “He stole from me. Actually, he failed to. But he made me an interesting offer.”

Her throat went dry and suddenly she couldn’t swallow at all. It took massive effort to even force the next words to escape her lips. “My father sold me?”

She could feel a cold horror creeping over her heart and through her mind. Yes, Dean Callahan was a shitty father, but he’d never trade her to some sheikh, would he? He had to know what a man like Sheikh Shamon would want.

Jesus, of course dear old Dad did that.

“Yes, but do not think that whatever you’re imagining is correct. You’re not. I have no interest in doing anything untoward tonight.”

“Then I guess I should be glad,” she said, trying to force herself not to cry. “I mean, why would I think that when you had men kidnap me from a car garage?”

The sheikh nodded. “I understand. It was a necessary evil, I’m afraid. But for today, all I need you to do is go with Sabella, and let her help you get dressed. Then, there will be dinner.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the jittery cadre of guards surrounding her. “I don’t want to.”

Sabella eyed her, a nasty frown marring her model-gorgeous face. “I don’t either, habibi. Why don’t you just return this American giraffe back home? She’s not worth the trouble.”

Sheikh Shamon shook his head. “Now, now, Sabella. Be nice to our guest. You’re one of the staff.”

The woman glared at him, but stifled right away.

“Fine,” she said, nodding to Bridget. “Come with me now, American, and don’t make this any harder on us than it has to be. I’ll get you dressed and then you can dine with Ravi. I’m sure he’ll figure out soon enough that you’re not worth his attention.” She tilted her head back to the sheikh. “Don’t worry, American. You’ll be home in a few days. I’ll help you with that.”

Sheikh Shamon’s expression soured and he grabbed Sabella by the wrist. Terse words were exchanged between them in what Bridget assumed had to be Arabic. Sabella’s face grew redder as she cursed, shooting a death glare at Bridget before cooling down.

“Come now,” Sabella said, forcing a fake smile to her lips. “Let’s have some time just between us girls.”

***

---