The Shiekh's Virgin Mistress by Jessica Brooke

care.”
    “I—I shouldn’t.  I mean, my dad is furious.  I think I need to go home.”
    Omar was again quiet for a long time as he thought.  “Very well my goddess.  When the time is right, we shall be together..  Never forget you are mine.” He clicked the phone off and the line went quiet.
    Anna’s sobs started anew. She felt as if she’d just lost her entire world and been dropped from a precipice, never to find solid ground or regain her feet.  As soon as her legs would work, she made her way to her dad’s loft and gathered her clothes and fled back to Boston.

CHAPTER TWENTY
     
    I stayed with my mom, in the room I grew up in and I spent a solid month crying and depressed.  My mom seemed to understand, without me having to verbalize too much of what happened.  I supposed she’d talked to dad, but I wasn’t sure.  He and I had not said a word to each other since that day.
    I didn’t eat much, but my mom made me drink water.  We sat in silence and watched movies together and somehow, being at home, helped.  Thankfully, my mom didn’t push, only offered me her continued silent presence.
    My body healed and stopped aching and I had a period, so I knew I wasn’t pregnant.  Part of me was almost sad at the potential loss.  Theoretically I knew it was an impossibility for me to have a child right now, but emotionally it was almost something I wanted.  I guess it was my estrogen kicking in and telling me that I wanted to birth a son to the man I loved.
    I did not hear from that man.  Not a word, not a peep.  He’d disappeared and I began to wonder if I’d imagined the whole thing.  Ten days after we parted, all of the bruises were gone from my body and I no longer felt him when I moved or sat or rolled over in the middle of the night.  I missed him.  I cried a lot.  I looked horrible and stopped making eye contact with the sallow cheeked, gaunt girl I saw in the mirror. 
    It was a month after I’d returned to the sanctuary of my mother that she said, “I can get you a doctor’s appointment honey, for some anti-depressants.” I’d jerked my head in her direction and she’d reached across the table and laid her hand over mine, “I understand.  I really do.  I’ve taken prescribed medication for years.” 
    My voice cracked from disuse, “I’ll be fine mom.  I don’t want to get on stuff.”
    “School starts in three weeks, do you think you can manage it?”
    “I have too.  It’s all I have.” I replied and realized how true that statement really was. 
    She shrugged, “Okay, but if you need help, it’s available.  I’m here if you want to talk about it too, no pressure though.”
    I started crying, and then suddenly I blurted, “I think I love him.  He’s gone.  I’m all alone.”
    She left her chair and knelt next to me at our kitchen table, and she hugged me from the side.  I put my head on her shoulder and I cried like I was small child.  “I’m so sorry darling.  Do you want to talk about it? I think that might help.” I shook my head and continued to sniff and sob.  She looked at me, and I saw her eyes fill with unshed tears. “Come sit with me in the living room, I have a story to tell you.”
    I shuffled after her and we plopped down on the couch.  She took two tissues and blew her nose and swiped at her eyes and then she threw the box to me.  I stared at my feet and slumped down.  I continued to sniff and a few tears fell as I listened without looking at her.
    “When I was twenty one, and still a virgin, I went on vacation with two girlfriends.  We took a cruise to Belize, and we stayed on the island for over a week, and then cruised home.  When we were on our way, I’d noticed an exotic man that continued to stare at me.  I later learned he was a powerful, wealthy philanthropist from Argentina.  He was staying in one of the huge penthouses up where us normal folk couldn’t go. 
    I watched him and everything he did, and often I found his