Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave

by Brooke, Jessica

  Table of Contents

  Sheikh’s Virgin Love-Slave

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  ANOTHER STORY YOU MAY ENJOY

  Sheikh’s Unexpected Triplet Babies

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Sheikh’s Virgin Love-Slave

  By Ella Brooke & Jessica Brooke

  All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2017 Ella Brooke & Jessica Brooke.

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  Chapter One

  Bridget Callahan pushed an errant strand of honey-blonde hair from her eyes and tried to shake off the hustle and bustle of another very loud day at the pediatrician’s office. December meant flu season, and she knew it was just a matter of time before she got sick, too. She thought her immune system would eventually toughen up after three years of working with Dr. Munir, but that never seemed to be the case.

  It was finally Friday evening, and while her ears ached from all the screaming kids, her feet ached from running around the office grabbing files, and her heart ached from her latest dating disaster, she could finally enjoy a night out.

  She drained the last of her Guinness as her friend, Cynthia, sloppily slid down onto the barstool beside her and pushed something dark in a shot glass into Bridget’s hands.

  “You’re going to need more than that. I knew I never liked Kevin. He was a complete bastard,” said Cynthia.

  “He wasn’t always so bad,” Bridget said, taking a small whiff of the shot’s contents and immediately regretting it. It was definitely bottom-shelf whiskey, and the fumes wafting up stung at her eyes and nostrils. She had no idea how it would feel going down her throat, but she was going to guess that smooth wasn’t it. At least it’d be strong.

  “I’m so sorry he was cheating on you. I always suspected those ‘I have to work late’ excuses were bullshit,” Cynthia said, her green eyes regarding Bridget with genuine concern. “He had no right to do any of that to you. I mean, you get that you deserve better than that, right?”

  “I’m twenty-five, have more student loans than I know what to do with, made the mistake of majoring in Spanish Literature in college, and have worked in the same small cubicle for three years. I’m not sure he was wrong about the dumping me part. I’d dump me, Cind. I’m nothing special.”

  Cynthia shook her head. “Take your shot and embrace your newfound freedom. This is the best thing that could happen to you! ‘Kevin Sanders, Esquire’ is getting kicked to the curb, and now you can find someone better.”

  Bridget arched an eyebrow at her friend before folding to peer pressure and gulping down the shot. It burned so badly that she coughed, and Cynthia had to pound her back a couple of times.

  “Wow, that was awful.”

  “You need to learn to hold your liquor.”

  Bridget snorted. “I need to go home. I’m crazy to be trolling here anyway. I’m just not enough,” she said, gesturing vaguely to her chest, which was a big factor in her fears of “not being enough.”

  She was nearly six feet tall, but built more like a willowy bean pole than a supermodel. Kevin always made her feel like crap about her modest curves. He always had some remark about the more attractive women in the TV shows or movies they watched together and how she didn’t stack up. For her twenty-fourth birthday, he even joked about getting her a boob job once he made partner at his firm—in front of everyone at her party. She had to smile and suffer through it.

  But, to be fair, Cindi wasn’t wrong. Bridget had spent the better part of two years trying to please Kevin, but was always left feeling like she was never enough. Kevin never missed an opportunity to tell her that. It just didn’t seem likely she’d ever find a man who’d understand or care about all she had to offer. It was even less likely in a trendy hipster bar off Charles Street in Baltimore. She didn’t need someone who drank Pabst Blue Ribbon ironically and could barely cultivate facial hair in her life either.

  Gathering up her purse, she hopped off the bar stool and reached over to hug her friend. “Hey, I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll catch a movie.”

  Cindi frowned. “It’s only 10:45. Are you sure you don’t want to try O’Laughlin’s next door?”

  She eyed the wall of frat douches and hipster guys all checking their cell phones and barely paying attention to either their dates or the rest of women in the room.

  “Yeah, never been more sure of anything in my life,” she said. “I did a twelve-hour shift today and covered when one of our nurses called in sick with a few things. I’m going to just crash and crash hard.”

  Cindi nodded and hugged her back. “All right, but grab some chocolate and some beer on the way home. You have every right to bawl your eyes out about that jerk, but tomorrow we look for someone way better than Kevin to fix your problems.”

  “Exactly,” Bridget said, faking the smile she just couldn’t feel deep down.

  After that, she scurried out of the bar as fast as she could, not wanting to give Cindi a chance to come up with another so-called great idea. She knew her friend was trying, but Cindi had a philosophy that men were like buses and that another one would be right around the corner any moment. She was much more daring. Yes, Kevin had been an ass, but Bridget let herself believe that she would be getting a ring for her looming twenty-sixth birthday; that even if he had his issues, at least she wouldn’t end up alone.

  Of course, it’s probably is a sign of a bad mental health that I even wanted to be tied down to that cheating jerk.

  She shivered and pulled her coat as tightly around her as she could as she stepped out into the street. It was an unusually cold night in Baltimore, even for this time of year, and the wind cut through the alleys between buildings with an Arctic-like chill. What she wouldn’t give to have worn pants instead of tights. She was going to freeze her nether-regions off before she got to the garage. Trying to ignore the goosebumps that were spreading across her legs, Bridget cut through the alley beside the Barnes and Noble to get to the parking lot. She was almost to the door to go into the structure when she heard the stomp of a boot behind her.

  Confused, she whirled around and looked behind her. Nothing seemed to be in the shadows, but she stayed still a moment longer, straining to hear if the stomping sound would come to her again. There was no sound, but the shrill whistling of the wind through the columns around her.

  “Bridget, there’s nothing there. You’re being paranoid.”

  Chiding herself, she pulled her purse closer to her body and hurried past the attendant and directly into the elevator. All she had to do was get to the fifth floor, hop in her car and peel out. Easy. Besides, no one was really following her. This was a secured facility with a guard and everything. She should be safe here for the rest of the walk. Hell, no one had gott
en on the elevator with her. The doors opened after the car climbed to the fifth floor, and she rushed to her Jeep. The keys were out in her grasp when a large hand suddenly wrapped around her arm and a second clamped over her mouth.

  She tried to scream choked on the taste of ash and grime against her tongue. The man’s giant palm had a crushing grip across her face, preventing her from even looking up. All she could do was feel the hot breath against her ear as a heavily accented voice spoke:

  “Don’t struggle. We have a Taser, but we’d prefer not to use it.”

  She shivered and felt her heart pounding through her chest. Sweat started to pour down her brow, and she bucked against her captor, but couldn’t make him budge. It was like trying to push against a brick wall.

  “Mmmrmph!” she screamed, which would have been more effect without a hand locked over her mouth.

  “Now, pet, we don’t want to have to do that,” the voice said. “We have orders to bring you in one piece, and the man we work for wouldn’t appreciate you being scarred. Now, just come with us. This can all be resolved quietly.”

  Screw quietly!

  She thrashed her body as hard as she could, doing everything she could think of to try and break free. Bridget pushed against the side of her car to get leverage and was able to back bend enough to see the faces of three, swarthy-looking men with long beards holding her tightly.

  “Oh, Ms. Callahan. That was a poor choice,” one of the men said. Bridget could hear the buzzing crackle of the Taser and could see its sparks of light out of the corner of her eye before it was sudden shoved into her side. The volts lanced through her, stinging with more pain than she could imagine, before she passed out.

  Chapter Two

  Twenty-four Hours Earlier…

  He was enjoying the opera when the alarm went off, the signal blaring out from his cell. Sheikh Ravi Shamon felt the adrenaline surge through his body as he stretched his long legs and unfolded himself from his seat. Il Pagliachi would have to wait for another night, though that didn’t bother him much. He’d never been a fan of the fine arts, but his escort for tonight—Sabella—always had a soft spot for opera. To him, it was just large women in Viking hats singing at decibels he didn’t want to deal with. He reached for Sabella’s hand and pulled her with him.

  “Someone’s broken into the summer house, and Allah knows what they’ve been trying to steal. Are you going to come with me?”

  She pouted, her lips pursing delicately, making her look all the more delicious. “I wanted to see the second act, habibi.”

  He sighed and shook his head. The things he did to please the whims of some of his harem. He dated often and extensively—everyone from the Hollywood starlets to the most beautiful royal heirs of Arabia. Yet, every so often, when he was between his latest conquests, he came back to his lead harem girl. He didn’t love her; he’d never loved anyone in his life. That just wasn’t in his nature, at least not so far. But Sabella amused him, and she could get most anything out of him with an expression like that. So, as usual, he gave in to her demands.

  “All right, you stay, and I’ll go and deal with whatever rat the staff has captured.” He squeezed her hand. “You bring me back a program and some of those opera glasses, pet.”

  “And then something later tonight?” she purred, turning to press her breasts against him.

  He sighed, feeling that boredom creep over him. To be honest, while she was an amusing distraction, Sabella wasn’t what he wanted, at least not currently. However, there was no need to add to the friction, especially not when his app was going off a second time to let him know that security had something big that required his immediate attention.

  “We’ll talk about it later. Hopefully whatever is happening will finish up shortly enough, and we’ll be able to move on from there.”

  She nodded, but doubt laced her eyes.

  Tough. He had other things on his mind, like dealing with whoever had been fool enough to try to steal from him. These weren’t the days of his grandfather, so no one would lose a hand or other appendages, but there would be a swift trial for anyone who dared to rob him followed by years of prison after that. No one crossed the reigning sheikh of Dubai.

  No one.

  ***

  “Sir,” Adil said as he walked into the main hall of his luxury vacation estate at the Palms. The old servant bowed low and then stroked a hand through his white beard. “We apprehended some moronic foreigner attempting to steal your latest van Gogh acquisition. He’s detained in the security briefing room, my sheikh.”

  Sheikh Ravi nodded and bent low to his old friend. “You don’t have to be so eager to please, Adil. I blame my security for being lax enough to let some…”

  “American, sir. It was an American we think.”

  “Yes, that would make sense. Only one of them would be either intoxicated or crazy enough to even attempt to do this to a sheikh.”

  “True, but I felt briefing you would be best for helping you to prepare for interrogation.”

  Sheikh Ravi bunched his fists together at his side. “Tell me, old friend, that the guards haven’t start without me. I don’t like it when people touch my things.”

  Adil smiled. “No, sir, the intruder has been left trussed up and ready or you,” he replied as he followed the old servant to the security room.

  As the door was pulled open, Sheikh Ravi had to smile as he gazed at the three well-armed guards fanning out around a wiry looking man. He was older than Ravi expected, with greying hair and deep wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. He might have been quite the cat burglar in his heyday, but now it was clear the intruder was past his prime. Ravi almost felt sorry for him. Almost. The asshole had to have been both crazy and desperate in order to try something he was no longer fit for.

  To be fair, with the amount of security Ravi had at his disposal, the best thief on Earth would have issues escaping with the painting. This man was completely out of his league. Then again, it was his painting. Its monetary worth and the impression it made on others were meaningless compared to what this painting meant to him. It was dear to Ravi, and this bastard had dared to violate that. It would be quite the joy to give him a bit of working over before turning him over to a tribunal.

  “So, what do we have here?” Ravi said, circling his uninvited guest. “Do you dare to steal from me? Do you really dare?”

  The thief’s color drained from his already pale face. “I can explain.”

  Ravi shook his head and slugged the thief hard enough for the older man to spit blood. “You’re very lucky I’m not as harsh as the other sheikhs in the Arabian Peninsula. If I were, you definitely wouldn’t have hands any longer, and it’s debatable if you’d have a head. But my mother… well, she always believed in due process, and I do as well.”

  The man spit blood again. “Doesn’t taste like it from here.”

  “Well, I did almost lose my prized possession tonight. You can’t blame a man for being upset by that. Now, do you want to tell me what the hell you’re doing in my home and why you tried such an incredibly stupid stunt?”

  The other man struggled in his bonds before sagging, as if he realized how futile his actions were and how trapped he was. “You don’t know anything about what I’m up against.”

  “Nor do I care, but I’ll be honest: I’m about to take you to trial and it won’t be good for you. I’m the ruler here and we have video footage as well as the testimony of the guards. It’s only my mercy that will keep you from spending the rest of your life rotting in a very dank prison cell.”

  “That’s a joke.”

  “What is?”

  The man spit out a tooth, and Ravi frowned. Maybe he’d hit him a little harder than was wise. “My ‘life.’ It’s like you said, right? I’m trapped here, and my stealing got me here. I don’t have anything to barter with, no wealth or anything else. Unless…” he licked his lips and spit the last bit of blood from his mouth. “I have a daughter.”

  “And why sh
ould I care? You’re not going to give me some sob story about how you have a toddler at home. You’re far too old for that,” Ravi said before he arched an eyebrow. “Unless you like that May-December thing.”

  “No, where’s my phone?”

  “I’m not giving you that,” the sheikh said as he continued to circle the thief like the shark he was, deep down. “You think I’m dumb enough to give you a chance at one last pathetic call for help?”

  Adil coughed behind him. “I have the phone at either rate, my sheikh.”

  The thief’s expression brightened. “Then turn it on. I don’t have a passcode.”

  “And what?”

  “My daughter’s almost twenty-six. I think. It’s hard to remember exactly. I haven’t exactly been home a lot.”

  Ravi should have shipped him off to the local magistrates and the court by now, but he was bored and being tangled up with this thief meant that he could put off having to make up an excuse to avoid Sabella. Sometimes in a life of wealth, boredom crept in. If hearing out this man’s last request before the law was called passed the time, then Ravi was game.

  “Then I suppose you’re not Father of the Year,” Ravi said dryly.

  “No, just look at her. She’s beautiful, one of the prettiest girls out there. Always made me proud the way she turned out. You could have her, or you could send me off to some dungeon.”

  “Prison,” Ravi corrected. “We are hardly savages. After all, we don’t take what isn’t ours. Unlike you.”

  “True, but you could keep me or you could have her. Wouldn’t a swap be better? I can tell you where she’s living right now, and you could have her and let me go. Even trade.”

  Ravi wanted to laugh at such a pathetic trade. He could have any woman he wanted. He had Sabella waiting for him and yet, he was so deathly bored. What if this daughter was worth it? What if she was someone who might actually hold his attention for more than a few weeks at best?

  “Adil, let me see his photos.”

  “You can’t be serious, sir. This is ridiculous,” Adil said, concern coloring his words.