The Sheikh's Secret Child - A Single Dad Romance (The Sheikh's New Bride Book 7)

by Holly Rayner

  Zaiman paused, wincing at the pain he was about to relive. Alex was calm and quiet as a still pond, accepting everything he told her without comment or spoken judgment. He raked his fingers through his hair, shaking his head at the memory.

  “She allowed me to take care of her throughout the pregnancy,” he said. “She allowed Bassam to drive her everywhere she needed to go, allowed me to carry heavy things, allowed me to insulate her from every risk. But…”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed a shuddering sigh.

  “She was a young woman in the Peace Corps who was confident enough to strike up an affair with a royal,” Alex filled in, her voice ringing with sympathy. “She must have been wildly independent.”

  Zaiman nodded emphatically.

  “She was. She was a wildfire, a tiger off the leash, stubborn and cocky as I was. Once she had Amia, she demanded her life back. I hadn’t even realized that she felt she didn’t have her life, though looking back on it, it was obvious. She and I began to fight as passionately as we had once made love. One night, after Amia had gone to sleep, she told me she was going for a drive. It was going to rain, and I told her to stay.”

  “She probably didn’t take too kindly to being told what to do,” Alex prompted when he paused.

  “No,” Zaiman answered with a bitter chuckle. “No, she didn’t. That was my mistake. She told me that she was from Florida, and she knew how to drive in the rain. I told her that nobody drives in the rain, here; that even the most seasoned drivers stay home, because a cloudburst in the desert is like a gunshot in a snow-filled mountain pass. The whole world washes out from under you.”

  He paused, swallowing.

  “But I said it in a way that made her believe that I was mocking her, and she left in a fury.”

  He sighed heavily, scrubbing his hands over his face.

  “Her car—that pink thing in the garage—it was too conspicuous, and though she was determined to do as she pleased, she wasn’t reckless enough to mar my reputation. The car she took instead had been temporarily retired, waiting for much-needed maintenance. Ten minutes after she left, the storm began.”

  He sighed deeply, gazing into his hands at the memory.

  “I discovered later that she never had to drive in the storm; she was killed on the road before the clouds burst. Her brakes failed on the steep slope just before the highway, and she was struck by a reckless delivery driver who was hurrying to get off the road before the storm. They told Bassam—who went out after the flood to find her—that she didn’t even feel it.”

  Alex gasped in empathetic pain, and moved as if to touch him, but stopped short. He was both grateful and disappointed, but pressed on with his story.

  “I could have sent Amia to live with her grandparents in the U.S. Bassam suggested I do so, but not only was I as young and bullheaded as my lover, I was also utterly in love with Amia. She had burrowed into my heart and forged a hook inside of it. Sending her away would shred my soul to pieces, and I couldn’t bear the thought.”

  “That much is obvious,” Alex told him with a tender smile. “Anyone could see how much she means to you.”

  “She is everything,” he said simply. “But my family…they are extremely traditional. Tradition, not true love, is the height of nobility. They would never recognize an illegitimate child, no matter how wonderful she is. There would be a scandal, and our name would be ruined.”

  He shook his head, frustrated at the barriers which had been erected around his life, frustrated at the consequences of his own rash decisions, frustrated that no matter how many times he thought it over, he couldn’t imagine himself doing a single thing differently.

  “But I was desperate for help. I needed the support of my family. I told my sister, begged her for help, but she couldn’t. At that time, she was deeply active in the community, working to address the infrastructure problems which allowed the annual floods to devastate our communities so thoroughly, along with the complaints and concerns of the citizens. She was directly under the media’s microscope, and she couldn’t risk exposing us. She did, however, promise to keep my secret safe.”

  He chuckled suddenly, surprising Alex. He laughed outright at her reaction, then brought himself under control.

  “With a family of busybodies, promises like that are only as good as the walls.”

  Alex furrowed her brow in confusion, and he elaborated.

  “My mother and younger brother were just outside the door when I told my sister my secrets. They overheard everything. When my sister opened the door to leave, my mother and brother nearly tumbled inside, pressed hard as they were to the keyhole.”

  Alex giggled at his description, and Zaiman was as sure as he had ever been about anything that he would be happy to listen to her sounds of enjoyment every day.

  “Did they lose their minds about it?” Alex asked.

  “Oh, no. My mother, for all her temper, is maternal to a fault, and my brother Zabid is a progressive who has adopted the attitude of personal freedom above all else. They both jumped right in to help, whenever and however they could without raising suspicion.”

  “Suspicion? With whom?”

  “My father,” Zaiman said with a wince. “And my older brother. They are the two-headed leader of the family and government. They are practically the same person. Somehow, my brother grew up to duplicate my father in every meaningful way, and he and my father have dug their heels in about tradition over freedom.”

  He chuckled again at an older memory.

  “When I was a boy, I would fight with the two of them almost daily. It was like fighting one brain with two mouths. Every decision I ever made was wrong, every dream I ever had was worthy of ridicule, everything I enjoyed was objectively unenjoyable. I can’t remember a single day when we got along from dawn to bed.”

  “That sounds incredibly frustrating,” Alex commented. “My sister and I don’t always agree or get along, but she always stood by me, even when I was being stupid.”

  “Well…they would never let me rot in prison or die for lack of family marrow were I to get sick, but apart from that, we do our level best to stay out of each other’s ways. Which is why I couldn’t possibly tell them about Amia. However…”—Zaiman held up a finger as he paced, beginning to almost enjoy the theatrical levels of drama the whole problem had produced—“I was still expected to attend family functions, and I couldn’t very well leave Amia at home. My mother, younger brother, sister and I met at least once a week to figure out a plan. It was Bassam who finally came up with the solution.”

  “Bassam?” Amia asked in mild surprise.

  “Yes. He suggested that he accept responsibility for the illegitimate child; nobody pays much mind to the children of the staff, and if a man as friendly as Bassam suddenly finds himself saddled with a child—even at his age—it isn’t an earth-shattering revelation. So that was what we did. We told everyone that Amia belonged to Bassam, and since he already attended every family function with us, it meant that I would never be away from my daughter.”

  “Hm…I believe I see a flaw in that plan,” Alex said, tapping her lips with her fingertip.

  “We should have,” Zaiman admitted. “But I had very little experience with children, my brother had none, and my mother’s memory had faded the way it does when nostalgia takes the place of reality. My sister was the only other person who had recent experience with children, and hers were slow to talk. We figured we had at least four, maybe five years before we really had to worry.”

  He shook his head, and Alex offered a sympathetic expression.

  “She was barely three when she started speaking in full sentences, clearly enough to be understood. Mostly, we kept her busy with her cousins, who are close in age to her, but she was never a shy child. She talked to anybody and everybody who listened, and before long, she was spilling secrets and dropping hints. We managed to cover it up well enough for a while, but it was clear that we couldn’t keep going as we had been.”
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br />   “How old was she when you decided to keep her hidden away?” Alex asked, softening her words with a sympathetic tone.

  “Four,” Zaiman said morosely. “It’s been nearly three years, now.”

  “That’s a long time,” Alex said softly.

  “Long enough to memorize the gardens, the mazes, the animals, and every other secret this palace holds,” he said with a sigh.

  Alex stepped forward and placed her hand on his. Her cool skin on his sent tremors to his very core, rattling the cage around his heart.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her big eyes glowing earnestly in the moonlight. “It must be so hard. Not just for Amia, but for you, too.”

  “It isn’t the ideal situation,” he said with a wry smile.

  “No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “But with so much love under one roof, it’ll all work out. I know it will.”

  He squeezed her hand in gratitude, watching as the touch deepened the color on her cheeks. She was so reactive to him, so attentive. He found himself craving that attention with the grinding desperation of a man who had spent too much time alone.

  She yawned suddenly, breaking the electric tension.

  “It is very late,” he said reluctantly. “And Amia will likely be restless tomorrow. We should…” He gestured toward the bedrooms, and she nodded.

  They walked slowly through the drawing room and up the hall, neither wanting to let the moment end just yet. Outside of Zaiman’s doors, they stopped.

  He turned to her as she turned to him, and he folded her in an embrace before he could stop himself. With nothing but her thin nightgown between their chests, he could feel her heart race beneath her soft curves. His kept tempo with hers, and when she wrapped her arms around his bare waist, he thought his chest might burst from it.

  Still entwined, Zaiman pulled back just enough to meet her darkened gaze. She bit her lip, glancing from his mouth to his eyes. He ached to kiss her, to taste her, to thank her for the unnamable something she had given to him that night. But gone were the years when he’d labored under the delusion that he could afford to live impulsively, and it was with great reluctance that he released her from his arms.

  “Good night,” he said, turning away.

  “Good night,” she breathed.

  He closed his door before she could move her bare feet, which had rooted themselves to the floor in a futile attempt to keep Zaiman from sweeping her off of them.

  Chapter 13

  Alex

  One Week Later

  “Do you think she’ll like it?” Alex asked breathlessly as she painted a black stripe across the back of the wooden zebra cutout in front of her.

  “She’ll love it,” Zaiman said with a confident grin. “But keep it away from my lion!” He growled playfully as he rocked the cutout cat, making it walk toward the zebra.

  “You’re going to smear the paint,” Alex giggled.

  “Oh!” Zaiman cringed and gingerly set the lion back on its wooden paws, balancing it on the triangle prop attached to its back. He placed his hands on his thighs, then looked around the room from his kneeling position.

  “I believe that completes the menagerie,” he said. “What of the treasure chests?”

  “Bassam took them out already,” Alex told him. “He’s setting them up around the tents.”

  “Excellent. Are we missing anything?”

  “Well, let’s see. We’ve the cutout animals, the tents, the treasure chests, the lanterns, the cushions…I don’t think we’re missing anything.”

  “The food!” Zaiman exclaimed. “We can’t have a birthday picnic without food! Dabir! Oh, he can’t hear me… Excuse me.” Zaiman rushed off to the kitchen, leaving Alex laughing behind him.

  She sighed happily and looked over the animals that they had worked so hard to paint: camels and ostriches, elephants and cheetahs—every exotic animal an adventurous girl could ask for. Zaiman could have easily hired an artist to do the work, but Alex was happy that he hadn’t. Of all the preparations she and Zaiman had made in secret that week, this was her favorite.

  Tension had lingered between them from the night of Amia’s fevered panic. Even when they were discussing things as simple as a birthday menu, there had still been an undercurrent of what-if, a stiff propriety which felt like an over-correction of attitude. For several days, it seemed that Zaiman was afraid to be friendly, as if the slightest crack in his proper façade would allow the romance of that stormy night to wash them both helplessly away.

  It wasn’t until he brought the animal cutouts home that they began to reestablish their candid, comfortable banter. It had taken two parrots and a rhinoceros, but eventually, they had rediscovered easy conversation and honest laughter.

  “Leave it to me to owe my happiness to a bunch of inanimate animals,” Alex giggled to herself. “Much obliged, rhino, old pal.”

  The purple rhino smiled benignly back at her. She wondered suddenly how they were ever going to haul all of these cutouts all the way to the chosen picnic place.

  She didn’t have to wonder for long. A few moments later, Bassam returned with what appeared to be a sleigh.

  “Pile them on, dear,” he told her with a twinkle in his eye. “Is everything else prepared?”

  “He’s hassling Dabir now,” Alex told him with a grin. “And Amia should be wrapping up her lessons in about twenty minutes. How much time do you need us to buy you?”

  “Hmm,” he considered, pursing his lips at the pile of animals. “Ten minutes out, twenty to set up—delay her just long enough to change into adventurer clothing, and all will be ready.”

  “Perfect,” Alex said with a grin as she slid the last of the animals onto the sleigh. “You’re the best, Bassam.”

  “I am, I am,” he agreed with a twinkle in his eye. He waved at her as he pulled the sleigh out the door. Curious, she followed him, and watched as he harnessed a camel to the sleigh.

  Surprised into a burst of laughter, Alex waved at Bassam until he disappeared around the palace wall.

  “Where is my menagerie?” Zaiman asked as he walked into the room behind her.

  “A dastardly scoundrel has absconded with it,” Alex told him in a dramatic tone. “We need a fearsome explorer to go get it back!”

  “I know of one,” Zaiman said, playing along. “And as soon as she’s finished learning her subtraction, she will save the day!”

  Alex giggled, delighted and amused. Zaiman was as much fun to play pretend with as any child was, and he seemed to enjoy it as much as she did.

  Her sister had always chastised her for her taste in men, telling her that they were invariably immature, but Alex couldn’t help it. Sure, there needed to be a balance, and it wouldn’t do for a grown man to spend his whole day playing when there were bills to be paid…but if a man couldn’t get silly with her once in a while, she would grow bored with him.

  Zaiman seemed to be the perfect combination of silly and serious, and it was becoming a problem. Alex had gone to sleep every night for the last week fantasizing about what it would be like to be falling asleep beside him, and imagining insane scenarios where he followed her across the world only to profess his love to her.

  It would never happen, and she knew it, so she tried to restrain her fantasies to the realm of possibility. A stolen kiss on a rainy night, cuddles on the couch during one of their movies—the next level of flirtation, nothing more.

  Amia’s voice echoed through the house, shaking her from her thoughts. Grinning at Zaiman, Alex raced through the art room to greet her.

  “There’s the birthday girl!” she called, opening her arms.

  Amia launched into them and hugged her tight, then pulled back with a scowl.

  “What’s wrong, Amia?” Alex asked, concerned.

  “It isn’t right to have lessons on my birthday,” Amia scolded. “No lessons should be a birthday present.”

  “We’ll be sure to take that under advisement for next year,” Zaiman said wryly as he scooped Amia up in
to a hug. “But for now, we need to get you changed.”

  “Changed? For what?”

  “For exploring!” Zaiman told her, swinging her through the air, making her shriek with startled delight. “We’re going on an adventure!”

  Amia’s eyes lit up, and Alex felt a twinge of worry.

  “A real adventure? Oh, boy!” Amia raced to the stairs, calling for Alex to follow.

  Before long, they were all dressed for an adventure in the dunes. Zaiman led Alex and Amia to the stables, where two intricately-adorned camels were waiting for them. One had a double saddle, and was draped in purple, with enough plastic swords and saddle bags to please even the most extreme adventurer. The other was put together much the same way, but in reds and golds rather than purple.

  “Oh!” Amia exclaimed. “They’re perfect!” She clasped her hands, her eyes glowing with excitement.

  “We aren’t leaving yet,” Zaiman said playfully. “You see, Amia, where we’re taking you is top secret. You’ll have to wear this.” He pulled out a purple silk scarf lined in white velvet and tied it around her eyes. Then, he lifted her onto the camel, and she squealed in discombobulated surprise.

  “But Papa, I’ll fall!”

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Alex told her. “I won’t let you fall.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Zaiman helped Alex onto the camel, lifting her by her waist. Her heart skipped a beat as she met his eyes, and his rakish little smile made her feel as if she would fly to pieces. She caught her breath again as she settled into the unfamiliar saddle and wrapped her arms around Amia.

  “Um…Zaiman?” Alex asked, gazing apprehensively at the camel’s neck.