The Sheikh's Secret Child - A Single Dad Romance (The Sheikh's New Bride Book 7)
Holly Rayner
The Sheikh’s Secret Child
Holly Rayner
Contents
The Sheikh’s Secret Child
1. Alex
2. Alex
3. Alex
4. Zaiman
5. Alex
6. Alex
7. Zaiman
8. Zaiman
9. Zaiman
10. Alex
11. Alex
12. Zaiman
13. Alex
14. Alex
15. Zaiman
16. Alex
17. Alex
18. Alex
19. Alex
20. Zaiman
21. Zaiman
22. Alex
23. Zaiman
Epilogue
The Sheikh’s Priceless Bride
Introduction
Prologue
1. Khizar
2. Jacqui
3. Khizar
4. Jacqui
5. Khizar
6. Jacqui
7. Jacqui
8. Jacqui
9. Khizar
More Series by Holly Rayner
The Sheikh’s Secret Child
Copyright 2018 by Holly Rayner
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.
All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Alex
Crashing waves and crying gulls gave Alex the strange feeling that she had been there before. Though the sun burned hotter and the buzz of busy voices spoke in a language she didn’t fully understand, sipping wine at a café beside a seaport was nothing she hadn’t done a hundred times before.
The briny scent of the ocean created the perfect backdrop for the bouquet of spices and sunbaked clay dancing on the breeze. She inhaled as she brought her glass of wine to her lips, adding the drink’s sweet, fruity smell to the aromatic display. She drank unhurriedly, basking in the slow pace of Abyamar.
“It is beautiful, yes?” the waiter asked as he cleared the dishes on a neighboring table.
“Yes,” Alex agreed with a smile. “It’s so different from London.”
“English?”
Alex laughed. “I wish. I probably could have survived there if I was, but no. I’m American.”
“Oh, America! California girl?” He whistled a familiar old tune, and Alex’s grin widened.
“Not quite,” she told him, grinning. “Utah. It’s like California, only…not at all.”
He gave her the blank smile of someone who had lost track of the conversation, and she offered him a friendly nod before opening the paper before her. She could feel the awkward relief roll off of him as he strode past her table once more, and she chuckled quietly to herself.
“All right, Alex, that’s enough playtime for today,” she told herself. “You need to find a job.”
Of course, a job meant more playtime for Alex. Or, at least, she hoped it would.
She sipped her wine and scanned the ads, searching for the perfect fit. Closer to perfect than a cluster of spoiled rotten royals, anyhow. She made a face at the memory and scowled at her paper. Her distaste for her former employer was forgotten quickly as an ad caught her eye.
Nanny needed. Three studious, well-behaved girls aged four, six and eight. References required. Imaginative and creative nanny preferred. Hands-off discipline. Tutoring not required, but be prepared to satisfy fierce curiosity.
The Hadad family
“That’s perfect! Oh, don’t hire anybody yet; I’m your girl!”
Excited and just a little anxious, Alex reached for her phone to call, only to discover that the agency was closed for the evening. Adjusting quickly, she tapped the address into her phone; to her delight, the hiring agency was less than a mile from her hotel, straight down the main road. She could walk there in minutes.
“First thing in the morning, then,” she said to herself, buzzing with anticipation.
Forcing herself to relax, Alex leaned back in her chair to watch the sky change. Purple dripped down over blazing orange and red like wet paint, crawling down to kiss the glittering golden waves on the horizon. All around her, the flavor of Abyamar piqued her adventurous nature, promising a rich, new culture to explore.
After paying for her post-flight refreshment and winking at the waiter (who rewarded her with a confused smile and scarlet cheeks), Alex hurried down the street. At least, she began in a hurry, but bright murals behind stone fountains distracted her, and the people around her moved at an easy pace. Before long, she found herself matching her environment, swaying languidly down the dusty road, absorbing the sights and sounds of the seaport town. It was a striking clash of cultures, especially on the docks themselves.
Small fishing vessels were unloaded by hand, barrel after barrel. Alex was certain she had seen the scene before in a nineteenth-century painting. These boats were dwarfed by massive freighters, which were relieved of their burdens by great sweeping cranes and speedy little pallet trucks. Listening carefully, Alex identified four different languages being spoken at once on the docks, all tumbling into one another in a linguistic symphony.
Leaning on the seawall just outside her hotel, Alex breathed it all in. This Middle Eastern town was a breath of fresh air, figuratively and literally. The sea seemed to sparkle more brightly here than it had in England, the atmosphere was pure and unmarred by exhaust fumes, and culture rolled off of every mosaic and clay building.
She felt as though she could see for miles. The tallest buildings around were no higher than two stories, and far in the distance, the sunlight still reflected off the tops of the dunes. No smog, no fog, no punishing circle of angry grey ocean to keep her trapped in place; she could stretch out here, wander as she pleased, experience something brand-new.
And make a little money doing it, she thought with a grin as the last flicker of light disappeared behind the distant waves. Adventure awaits!
With that, she entered her hotel and made her way to her room. The big iron key and intricate lock emphasized the strangeness of her new environment, and it was with a light heart and boundless excitement that she settled into a restless sleep.
She rose early the next day, and after a quick breakfast of figs and flatbread, Alex left for the agency. The morning rush was in full force, a drastic shift from the prior evening. Carts filled with fruits, fish, baskets, and silk lined the street, each guarded by a watchful seller.
Knowing that she had “tourist” written all over her, and reluctant to waste time, Alex made a point to observe only peripherally. Still, the exciting colors and enticing smells began to seduce her. She ached to touch the glittering pretty things, and the scent of ripe fruit soon made her regret not having a bigger breakfast.
She was so consumed by the new environment that she nearly missed the door of the agency. Pulling herself back to the moment, she put on her brightest smile and bounced inside. The interior was dim and cool, a striking difference from the bright, arid outdoors, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. When they did, she found herself in a comfortable yet efficient room, full of comfortable yet efficient-looking people.
Happy that she had taken the time to tame her own wild red hair that morning, Alex straightened her shoulders confidently and strode purposefully across the room. First impressions were everything.
“Good morning,” she said brightly, hoping that the language barrier wouldn’t be too great. “I’m here to inquire about the nanny position, for the three Hadad girls?”
She held out the paper and pointed to the ad she had circled. The woman barely glanced at it before shaking her head.
“Sorry, miss. The position was filled yesterday.”
“Oh, no worries,” Alex said brightly, mildly disappointed that her dream job had slipped through her fingers. “I saw a few others…the Kassab family?”
“Hired a nanny this morning,” the woman said apologetically.
“Hmm… What about the Wasems?”
“Filled also,” the woman replied, offering a sympathetic smile.
“Ah,” Alex said, disappointment creeping into her tone. She shook it off quickly, and smiled at the woman. “Do you have any other clients in need of a nanny right now?”
“I will check. I believe we…hmm. A moment, please.”
The woman turned to one of her stacks, flipping through it with quick, efficient fingers.
“So sorry, nothing for nannies now. Do you like fish? There is an opening—no, that would not be nice for you, I think. But please, return tomorrow if you have not found a position today. We are a very busy office; many good families employ our service.”
“Thank you,” Alex said sincerely. “I’ll do that.”
Suppressing a sigh, she turned toward the door. Before she had taken a step, however, her breath was stolen by a pair of intense, caramel-swirled brown eyes. The man they belonged to sat by the door and gazed into her very soul. She could almost feel him from across the room—the texture of his wavy black hair and the warmth of his tanned, olive skin.
Her heart raced with a desire she had not felt—or at least acknowledged—since before she’d taken the job in London. Get out, her mind insisted, but her feet felt rooted to the floor. Her heart pounded in her ears, blocking out the low murmurs in the room, discombobulating her senses.
Behind her, the woman dropped a clipboard, shattering the spell. Inhaling sharply, Alex ripped her gaze away and hurried out of the room.
“Oh, man,” she whispered under her breath as she passed through the door.
He had risen from his seat as she moved, and was following her. She knew she should have broken eye contact sooner. How could she have lost her senses so quickly? He was, admittedly, a rather cliché type—tall, dark, and handsome, which had always been her weakness. He certainly fit the bill, but she shouldn’t have reacted the way that she had. She knew better.
Knowing he was still behind her, she quickened her pace.
“Wait! Please.”
His voice was as pleasing as the rest of him, and in spite of her misgivings, she paused. He caught up to her, offering her a cocky smile.
“Yes?” Alex asked guardedly.
“Your accent,” he said. “You are American?”
Alex had done enough traveling to know that being approached in the street by strange men—even strikingly handsome, exotically enticing strange men—wasn’t always a good thing, and she restrained her natural friendly nature, putting on a mask of brusque suspicion.
“What’s it to you?” she said.
The man’s haughty smile stretched into a smirk. “You do not recognize me?” he asked, as if he could hardly believe it.
She flipped through her memory, searching for his face, but knowing it wouldn’t be there. She never would have forgotten meeting someone like him.
“Should I?”
He chuckled. “I suppose not.” He seemed pleased that she didn’t recognize him, which only confused her more. “You have not been in Abyamar for long, I take it?”
“I arrived yesterday,” she said cautiously. “Is there something you need?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. Tell me, have you fallen in love with this country?”
“That’s a strange question,” she told him, struggling to hold tight to her defenses in the face of her awakening curiosity. “Why do you ask?”
“I notice you are seeking employment as a nanny. A family I know requires that sort of help, and the task falls to me to find it. I can offer you a position, but it would require relocation. Are you willing to leave Abyamar?”
The bustling street was distracting, and Alex needed her full attention to consider any sort of proposal. As she was working out her answer, she was nearly flattened by a woman who was shouting over her shoulder at a gaggle of misbehaving children. Dodging out of the way in the nick of time, Alex bumped hard into an old man who shouted indistinctly at her. Recovering herself, she brushed her hair out of her face and met the handsome man’s eyes once more.
“That depends entirely on the job,” she replied. “Could we talk somewhere a little less hectic?”
“Of course, I do apologize. There is a café just down the street, unless you have another preference?”
“The café is fine,” she said, calculating the risks of walking down a busy street with a strange man and finding them negligible. The café was the same one she had visited the day before, and the waiter greeted her with the familiarity of an old friend.
“You seem to have made an impression,” the stranger said appreciatively. “I can see why.”
“Oh?” Alex said neutrally.
“Yes,” the man said, but his only elaboration was a wicked grin which shot right to her belly, rousing the butterflies. “Forgive my rudeness—I neglected to introduce myself. My name is Zaiman.”
He paused for a moment, studying her expression. She smiled politely and shook his extended hand, smothering a gasp as she did so. A spark of heat struck through her like lightning at his touch, and she released his hand quickly.
“Alex O’Hare,” she replied. “Pleased to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, Ms. O’Hare.” His voice was a purr, smooth and bold as coffee.
Alex cleared her throat and glanced at the menu. Once they had ordered drinks, she firmly directed the conversation back to business.
“So, you’re in the market for a nanny?” she prompted.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said with a casual flip of his hand. “I know a family in Al-Jerrain. They are seeking a full-time, live-in nanny for only one child who is in desperate need of stimulation. The family is wealthy and generous, and the child is a joy.”
“It sounds like my kind of job,” Alex said cautiously. “I imagine there’s a catch?”
“You are perceptive,” he told her.
The rakish expression fell away, replaced by something far more solemn. Her interest was piqued, and she leaned forward as he dropped his voice.
“The position requires the upmost discretion. Nothing you see, hear, or come to know during your employment may leave the house. No matter how big or small the detail, no matter how obvious you think it must be, you cannot speak of it. You must be unfailingly trustworthy. Do you understand?”
Alex paused, knowing that she should get up and leave, while also knowing that there was no chance she would do that. A mystery had just been handed to her on a silver platter. How could she pass that up?
“Yes, I understand,” she told him. “My previous position was…not the same, exactly, but similar, in that respect. I worked for a family of minor royals in London, and the stipulations were essentially the same. A lot of upper-level information is batted around at the dinner table; I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut. Th
ey were pleased with my work. Oh! I have a reference letter here—would you like to see it?”
She didn’t wait for an answer before she opened her bag. The file was stacked a quarter-inch thick with credentials. Flipping through the various papers, she found the Duke’s letter of reference.
As she handed it to Zaiman, she gestured with the thick file.
“I have letters here from each of my previous employers, along with my degree in child development, my secondary degree in art therapy, and my certifications in first aid and CPR.”
He nodded his acknowledgement, then read the Duke’s letter carefully—once, then twice, taking his sweet time scanning each paragraph. Alex twisted a napkin to pieces in her hands, relieved when he finally gestured for the file. She passed it over eagerly, dying to speak but not wanting to interrupt him.
“Art therapy,” he murmured. “Are you an artist?”
“Oh…only in the loosest sense of the term,” she said self-deprecatingly. “I’m no Van Gogh.”
“Ah, but that is a good thing,” he said seriously. “This family would not be pleased to have their nanny cut off her ear.”
Alex was startled, and she turned a sharp gaze on him, reading his face. He was deadpan, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. Her laughter brought an intense, sudden delight to his somber features, transforming them.
Tall, dark, handsome, and a sense of humor. Alex was simultaneously relieved and disappointed that he was merely the employment scout; if he were the employer, she would have been able to study his expressions every day.
Finishing his examination of Alex’s credentials, he passed the folder back to her.
“An impressive resume, Ms. O’Hare,” he said. “I believe I am able to offer you this position. Are you available to travel tomorrow morning?”
It was happening so quickly. She didn’t even know his last name, the family name, or the details of her charge.
The missing information made her pause. Her sister’s incessant warnings about her “wild” life rang in her head, urging her to examine the red flags more closely, but her own instincts told her that this was a man who could be trusted. She wondered briefly if her attraction to him was clouding her judgment, but she dismissed the possibility quickly.
