The Sheikh's Secret Love Child (The Sheikh's Baby Surprise Book 2) Page 11

  Clarice snuck out from behind the car, then: wearing an Upper Northwest sweater and her white tennis shoes, looking completely out of sync with her surroundings. But her eyes were flashing, and a smile had crept across her face. “I just can’t believe this,” she murmured. “I just can’t believe it.”

  At once, an older gentleman, also dressed in a suit, swept toward them and ushered them up the steps of the palace. “Please,” he said sternly. “We must get you inside.”

  The man’s eyes were warm, trustworthy, and Rosie found herself striding back toward the palace alongside her mother and Hakan, who carried Zak.

  The crowd was relentless, but the sound dimmed as they crept up the steps and into the echoing entrance chamber. Large doors, two stories high, opened for them, the ancient wood creaking, and then they were standing on the inside of the miraculous palace. Overwhelmed, Rosie felt, for the first time in what had been a tumultuous few weeks, that she might cry of exhaustion.

  She turned to Hakan, then, who was speaking in his mother tongue to the man who had led them indoors. After a brief nod, Hakan grinned warmly at them.

  In Hakan’s arms, Zak cooed, his eyes blinking around him. He swept his finger up to his royal father’s ear and stabbed it inside, making Hakan’s eyes water—a gesture Rosie knew as Zak’s new sign of affection.

  “Hakan,” Clarice said then, taking a step forward. She opened her arms. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you. You have a lovely home.”

  Hakan stepped into the hug and kissed Rosie’s mother on first one cheek, then the other, causing her to blush. “Please, don’t think of it as just my home. You’re family, Clarice, and this is where you live, now. I can’t wait for you to meet my mother.”

  Clarice brimmed with happiness. She gave her daughter an approving look.

  A moment later, a female member of staff appeared and informed Clarice that she would be leading her to her new quarters.

  “Quarters?” she asked Rosie. “You mean I get more than one room here?”

  “Nearly an entire floor to yourself,” Hakan affirmed, wrapping his free arm around Rosie once more. “Don’t think I was going to let you live in poverty around here. You’re the mother of my beautiful girlfriend and one of our son’s caregivers. You mean so much here.”

  “It’s just a lot to take in,” Clarice admitted, her face blushing. “But I suppose I can get used to anything.”

  Hakan laughed heartily. “Trupti will take care of you,” he said, gesturing to the woman behind Clarice. “She’ll help you get settled in after your long journey. Take care, now, and we’ll see you at dinner. I hope you’re hungry.”

  Clarice bowed her head slightly, making final eye contact with her daughter before disappearing up a grand staircase.

  Hakan bounced Zak on his hip and finally turned his attention to Rosie, whose eyes were dry and tired after the long flight. “You, my darling, look absolutely gorgeous.”

  She scoffed, tossing her head back. “If this is the best I’ve looked, after a fifteen-hour flight, then I better work harder in general. I’m living in a grand palace, now. I can’t just wear scrubs all day anymore, can I?”

  Hakan waved his hand. “You can wear whatever you want—they already love you. You should see how they’re reacting to you in the media. And they haven’t even received my press release yet.” He grinned, even as Zak tried to puncture his eardrum again. “Being a parent involves constantly getting hurt, doesn’t it?”

  Rosie giggled. “I think you’ll get used to it. Look at you. You’re a natural.”

  Hakan led them to the royal quarters, then—up a different grand staircase, through a hallway that was lined with ornately-framed paintings. One painting, of a man wearing the traditional royal garb of Zaymari, standing next to a young boy, also wearing traditional dress, caught her attention almost immediately.

  Rosie pointed to the boy. “I’d recognize those eyes anywhere,” she murmured. “Look at you.”

  Hakan laughed. He held his son up to the portrait, gazing at the resemblance. “He does look like me. But in some ways, I think he’s got his mother’s good looks.”

  Rosie’s heart swelled with pride at these words.

  A moment later, Hakan opened the door of their quarters, which made the presidential suite at the Edgewater Hotel look like a dive. Rosie’s breath caught in her throat as she looked around, tapping her shoes on the cool marble. More paintings lined the walls, alongside countless bookshelves. A living room area was off to the right, complete with antique furniture and tapestries that hung from the walls.

  As they continued, Rosie spotted a tiny kitchen.

  “One that we can use for Zak,” Hakan explained. “Sometimes I like to use it—”

  “When you want to cook for yourself?” she teased, remembering how he’d said he liked to live like regular people. “Keeps you humble I guess.”

  “Sometimes, I just crave macaroni and cheese. What can I do, pretend like I didn’t live in America for ten years?” he grinned. “I want this kid to have the best of both worlds. Which means you’ll have to teach him everything you know from your past, and I can teach him everything I know from mine.”

  Rosie smiled deeply, contentedly. They were going to raise their child in this palace. He was going to grow up learning two languages, two different ways of living. And for that reason, he would begin his life with so much more than she had. Her heart swelled.

  Hakan opened a side door, then, and revealed a large nursery. Light from the windows shone directly on the crib in the center. The crib looked old, yet sturdy—perhaps one that had been in the family for decades. An official, royal crib.

  Rosie swallowed. “Do you think I can keep his toys in here?” It didn’t seem right that his dinosaur toys could stand in this antique nursery.

  But Hakan just laughed. “We can do whatever we want. This is our home. And, if I know anything about kids, I know that he rules this home. At least for the duration.”

  “Well, he’ll go from ruling us, to ruling this country,” Rosie laughed.

  “Do you want to see the bedroom?” Hakan asked, his voice suddenly sultry.

  Her stomach flipped over at the thought. They hadn’t been intimate since he’d left the States two months before, and she’d been craving his body, his kisses, his scent.

  She grinned and nodded, and Hakan opened the last door in the hallway, bringing the stunning view to light: the bedroom they would share.

  The single room was twice the size of her Seattle apartment, Rosie realized, except it was completely open, without wall breaks. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling, the breeze tickling the long, ruby-colored drapes. The gleaming floors were multi-leveled, leading down to the bedroom, where a massive bed stretched across that side of the room, opposite a cozy nook which featured a fireplace and several couches.

  Rosie’s face broke into a massive smile. She’d never seen anything more beautiful.

  As she roved around the apartment, Hakan meandered to their bed, where he lay with their son, tickling him ceaselessly. He giggled, sending tiny baby squeals to echo against the high ceilings.

  Rosie watched as Hakan opened the baby’s shirt, gave him an explosive raspberry, and laughed with his son on their million-dollar bed, on sheets that were probably used once and never given life again. What kind of luxury was this?

  In that moment, as Rosie watched them, she felt incredulous. She was reminded of the sleek, red Lamborghini that had nearly flattened her on that street in Seattle. God, she thought. Fate was such a strange, bizarre thing. She wondered how many cars in the history of the world had had to be destroyed so that beautiful things could grow in their place.

  Rosie lay beside them, then, in the midafternoon light. The baby cooed into a nap, and she and Hakan slept beside him, their hands linked together between them. It was like they were one unit, breathing ever as one.

  SEVENTEEN

  Rosie’s eyes opened as the sun started its descent in the brig
ht, blue sky. She looked at her baby, who was sleeping soundly, and at Hakan, who sent little snores into the air as he slept on his back. She shuffled toward the back of the bed to lean her back against the cool wall. She cracked her neck, her knuckles.

  Without her warmth beside them, Hakan and Zak awoke, blinking around them. Hakan turned his head upwards, catching sight of her. “What are you doing up there, Monkey,” he asked her. “You know, we have to get ready for dinner soon.”

  “I hope you have mashed peas,” she murmured, gesturing to their son. “It’s all he’ll eat right now.”

  “I think we can work something out,” Hakan laughed, picking up the wiggling eighteen-month year old. He tossed him lightly into the air, and Rosie bit her lip, slightly nervous about the coming dinner.

  “Will there be many people at this thing tonight?” she asked him meekly. She knew he could tell she was on edge.

  “Nope,” Hakan said directly, flashing his kind, dark eyes toward her. “Actually, just us, and Clarice and my mother, if that’s all right with you.”

  Rosie nodded eagerly, her breathing steadying. “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “But that reminds me,” Hakan said, snapping his fingers. “We must draft this press release about your first appearance.”

  “My appearance?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Wasn’t that just out there? When I left the limousine?”

  Hakan shook his head, giving her that devilish smile again. “Actually, we’re planning a royal ball in the next few weeks—to introduce you properly to the public.” He held up his hands as Zak crawled around on the bed beside him. “I’m sorry. This is just kind of part of the game.”

  Rosie swept her legs over the side of the bed and inhaled, exhaled. “Are you sure that’s necessary? A press release and everything?”

  “Trust me, I’m a media guru,” he teased.

  She nodded, grinning. “I will.”

  Rosie lifted her arms toward her son, then. She hadn’t held him since the limo had arrived, and she missed his warmth, his easy breathing on her neck. She bounced him slightly in her arms. “I should probably feed him and put him to bed before dinner, actually. He’ll be grumpy by the time we sit down with our mothers.”

  “I suppose these are the types of things I’ll learn as I get better at being a dad,” Hakan reasoned, winking at her. “Do you need any help?”

  Rosie swept her eyes around the room, realizing, all at once, that while they’d been sleeping, her luggage had been brought up. “Wow. They’re really quite impressive,” she said, gesturing.

  “Invisible aides,” Hakan agreed. “I’m never not impressed.”

  She stepped lightly over to the luggage, still bouncing her baby. She’d packed several bottles of baby food on the inside, figuring it would be best to introduce Zak to his new Middle-Eastern diet slowly. First hummus, then lentils.

  Hakan walked to the grand desk as she fiddled with the baby food, drawing out a piece of paper and a pen from the first drawer. “Shall we work on this press release, then, before dinner?”

  Rosie nodded, wiping at her forehead before spooning the baby his first morsel. “I really can’t believe the reaction so far,” she murmured. “I was so worried about what they would think of me. And of Zak. I was so sure they wouldn’t approve of an American girl. And what about your allies—the ones from countries who really don’t trust America?”

  Hakan looked at her for a moment, watching her technique as she fed the baby the green, squishy food. “You have to understand something, Rosie. When the news got out about you, a few people panicked.”

  He sat heavily at the desk’s chair, bowing his head. “But these people who disapprove, they are a tiny group, all from another generation. Most people in my country love America. So much of our culture—movies, video games, fashions—comes from America. The vast majority of Zaymarians don’t harbor any resentments towards you; they are fascinated by you, even.”

  “And what of the other people?” Rosie asked meekly. She hated to be disliked. She knew this came from her youthful years of morals, of Sunday School, of trying to please everyone. She’d never quite been able to shake it.

  “Osman, my old chief of staff, who I’m sure you remember—”

  Rosie’s face burned. She hated talking about him. He had hurt her for too long, and she still steamed with the memory of his face. She wanted him to make up for all the torment he had caused her. But she’d held her tongue regarding him, ever since she’d told Hakan the truth at the Edgewater.

  “Osman wasn’t representative of the country,” Hakan continued. “He was representative of that very small group of people. And for that reason, I fired him.”

  Rosie tried not to show any signs of emotion, but her heart was beating fast. She swallowed hard, feeling her Adam’s apple bobbing. “What will happen to him?”

  “He’s banished. He’ll have enough money to keep him alive and well,” Hakan affirmed. “But I had to look at the facts. And the fact was that he had dismissed you and my son from my life. And I couldn’t forgive him for that.”

  Rosie stayed silent, bobbing the green food into her son’s mouth.

  “It’s for the best,” Hakan affirmed.

  Silence fell between them as Zak ate. Rosie cleared her throat after a moment, trying to find a way to cover the sour taste in her mouth. “You know, I think working on that press release is a great idea.”

  Hakan clapped his hands together and stood up, grabbing his pen and paper. “How shall we begin?” he asked, his voice confident again. Strong. Regal.

  “People of Zaymari!” Rosie began, laughing at herself. She placed the empty jar of food down on the ground and bounced her baby, wiping his mouth clean.

  “People of Earth,” Hakan corrected. “We’d like to announce the arrival—”

  “Of a nurse and baby, both from Seattle, who for some reason, lucked into the royal quarters,” Rosie said, her eyes flashing.

  She carried the baby to the window and gazed out, pushing the balcony door open for a better view of the tropical landscape. In the slight breeze off the water, the palm trees wavered left and right. Later, she thought, she would go on a long walk out there, hand in hand with the man who still made her mind unravel with nerves.

  “Ah, but you’re wrong, Rosie,” Hakan said, laughing from behind her. “It is I, and all of Zaymari, who have lucked into you. Can you imagine who I would have had to marry, if you hadn’t come along in your cute-as-heck maid’s outfit and proven me wrong?”

  Rosie giggled, gazing at her baby. He yanked at her red hair and she yanked it back, feeling the sting of it. “You were betrothed, is that what you’re telling me? Did I break something up?”

  “Naw,” Hakan said. “But you should have seen the line of suitors. All of them beautiful. And all of them with exactly one eyebrow traced across their face.”

  “Just the unibrow. It’s kind of like a shield from the sun,” Rosie said, laughing.

  “Like sunglasses?”

  “Exactly,” she said.

  She tapped her finger between her own eyebrows, grateful that she’d plucked that final hair the previous day, before she’d boarded the plane. She remembered how stark that hair had looked in the sink on her last day in that apartment, the place in which she’d planned to raise her son alone.

  “Now. I think I want to start the press release in a kind of specific way,” Hakan said.

  “Well, you’re the media guru,” Rosie said, using his words. Outside, she could see a group of children near the water, splashing and creating castles in the sand.

  “I am, which is why I present the following as the introduction,” Hakan said, clearing his throat. “Are you ready?”

  Rosie rolled her eyes, giggling. “Sure. I’m ready when you are.”

  “I think it should start, ’Citizens of Zaymari. Sheikh Hakan and his new fiancée would like to announce…’” He paused, allowing the air to fill with tension. “You know. Something like that.”

&nbs
p; Rosie laughed. Fiancée? Her heart rallied in her chest, but she told herself to calm down. Of course, Hakan was joking.

  She shook her head and cooed to her baby: “Did you hear what your daddy accidentally called me? Isn’t he acting silly?”

  But then, all at once, she felt a presence behind her. “Hakan?” she whispered. Suddenly, she felt that she couldn’t get enough air. She blinked wildly and spun around, gazing down at the floor.

  Hakan was kneeling before her on one knee, those dark eyes flashing with devilish charm. In his hands, he held a tiny box. And on the inside of that box, a stunning, antique ring shone brightly in the setting sunlight.

  “Hakan…” Rosie whispered. She shook her head, biting her lip. She hadn’t expected this. She’d barely dared to dream about it.