Chapter 2
“You wanted to speak with me,” Kerry said as she stood in front of the imposing oak desk in the room designated as Malik’s office.
He looked up with amber eyes so similar to Aram’s, she fought a smile. “I wanted to speak with you yesterday.”
So he was annoyed. She put on her sweetest smile before she spoke. “I waited nearly an hour for you to return and when you didn’t, I figured it would hold.” He’d had a bad attitude from the moment they met and she hadn’t quite figured out if it was her, or if he was just an ogre. “Would you like to speak now?”
“Yes. Have a seat.”
She resisted the urge to be contrary and took the edge of the seat before him. Hands in her lap, she waited for His Highness to speak.
“Aram struggles with certain things and I want you to be aware of them. He isn’t like most children; he’s sensitive and very intuitive.”
“I’ve noticed, but he’s also bright and bubbly and incredibly smart.” She’d been impressed with his skill level and eagerness to learn.
“He likes you—I might even say he adores you.”
Her smile spread slowly. “I adore him too. He’s a great kid.” Of course there was something else, there had to be.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea if you speak to him about his mother.”
“Why not? He’s obviously still hurting and he has no one to talk to about it.” She moved forward until she was perched on nothing more than a sliver of chair, elbows on his desk. “If he forgets her, he will blame himself forever. It’s a hurt that never goes away, Malik.” She still wasn’t totally comfortable with calling a king by his given name, but he’d insisted. At least a dozen times since he arrived home today.
“Be that as it may, I am his father and it is my decision.”
She nodded, conceding that point because he was ultimately responsible for the kid’s well-being. “Alright then, what do I tell him when he starts talking about Kamala? Or when he asks me about my mom?” They sometimes shared stories of their mothers to help them remember.
“Tell him to talk to me,” he barked and she had to take a moment to admire the man’s rugged beauty. He was big and tall, at least six-two with broad shoulders, thickly corded muscles that were always encased in perfectly tailored suits. As delicious as his body was, his face was the true work of art. A full pink mouth sat between two heart-stopping dimples which were framed by sharp square jaws. Most days, his long black hair hung neatly down his back but today it was slightly mussed as though he hadn’t smoothed it after changing into jeans and a blue oxford.
To put it simply, her new boss was physically perfect. “You don’t like to talk about her.”
“I will talk to my son about his mother.” His voice was firm and intense, and deadly serious.
“Fine.” She stood and when he turned his attention back to his laptop, she turned on her heels and left his office. She was dismissed. Stubborn, gorgeous…ass.
Kerry refused to let him get to her, because he was irrelevant other than the fact he was Aram’s father. And her boss. But he didn’t have to like her and she didn’t have to like him either. They just had to coexist and be civil in front of her charge. Easy peasy.
“Hey, kiddo, it’s time for dinner.”
Aram looked up at her and a huge smile split his small face. “Come look what I drew!” His excitement for everyday things made him so easy to love, but when he was in superhero mode, he was irresistible.
She walked to his little desk and looked at his drawings. “That’s pretty cool, tell me the story.” This was what appealed to her so much about using art as therapy, especially with small children. There was so much to one little drawing that could tell the person listening exactly what the child worried and dreamed about. Steering him towards the bathroom inside his suite of rooms, Kerry listened to him tell her about the drawing.
It was all about the little boy who derived his superhero powers from his goddess mother who, from the heavens, helped him harness the weather against villains.
“That is incredible, Aram! We have to turn this into your first comic book.”
“Really?” His little body vibrated with happiness and her heart swelled when he wrapped his little body around her legs. “That’s so cool!” He held up his hands to show her they were clean and thanks to his hug, a little drier than they had been.
“Perfect, let’s head downstairs and you can tell your father all about it.”
Aram’s shoulders fell. “He won’t care.”
“Tell him anyway.” She winked. “I do it to my best friend all the time and she has to listen because she loves me.” His sweet giggles carried on the air as they made their way to the dining room. It was so fancy for such a small family, but she guessed it was the royal way.
“Father, I want to tell you about my drawing and Kerry says you have to listen because you love me.”
She cringed but took her seat, steadfastly avoiding the steely gaze of her handsome, gruff boss.
* * *
Malik sat through yet another meal listening to his son preach the wisdom of Nanny Kerry, only this time he had to look at the gorgeous creature too. He shouldn’t even think of her like that—she was the nanny for god’s sake, and with the bottom half of her hair dyed blood-red, he must be crazy to even find her attractive. Never mind those big green eyes that made her seem vulnerable and doll-like, plus the overly plump mouth that instantly created inappropriate lust and vivid images in his mind, it all combined to warn him what a bad idea this attraction was. “You’ve been teaching Aram bad habits.”
And then she would open her mouth and say something feisty and his body would respond like a hormonal teenager. Kerry’s mouth curved at the corners, not a full smile, just a hint of one. “Not at all. Just to assert himself when he wants to be heard.” Her gaze intensified like a warm hand on his chest. “That’s important too, don’t you think?”
Damn vixen. “Not in all cases.”
“But when he wants to share his day with you as well as his passion?”
He barked out a laugh. “He’s four, he hardly has passions.”
She set her fork down, leaning back in the chair with an assessing look. “Maybe you should listen a little closer when he speaks about comics and superheroes. Did you listen to what he said about his latest drawing?”
Malik shook his head, mirroring her relaxed posture with a smug smile. That smile didn’t stay for long as she explained what it meant that he’d turned Kamala into a goddess watching out for him.
“He’s coping but he’s hungry to know more about her.” She held up her hand to stop the argument that formed on his lips. “I know you don’t want me to talk to him about it which is why I’m telling you this. Your feelings, whatever they are about your wife, are irrelevant. Sorry,” she winced but shook it off, “but my point is just give him the facts, the good stuff.”
He frowned. The good stuff. There wasn’t much good he could say about Kamala and that only made him feel guilty. His son deserved better than either of his parents. “And I should give him that, no matter what?”
Kerry rolled her eyes and stood, taking up Aram’s vacated spot, and leaned on her elbows, giving Malik her full attention. “Stop thinking of her through the eyes of a husband. Tell him about her smile, the way she smelled, the sound of her laughter. Things she liked. Things that a son would treasure about his mother. You have a mother, don’t you?”
His gaze sharpened at her tone. “I do,” he growled back.
Pink lips twitched with amusement. “And how you feel about her has nothing to do with her relationship with your father. The whole royal thing notwithstanding.”
The royal thing. She acted as though they were some different breed of humans. “Of course. I love my mother.”
“Then tell Aram things about his mother that mirror what you feel about your own, but he needs to talk about her.”
“Because you do?”
“Because we all do.” She rolled her eyes at him.
He smiled at the gesture, since most people were far too conscious of his status as Sheikh to dare roll their eyes at him. “Tell me about your plans for Aram.”
She blinked at his change in topic but like the trooper he suspected her to be, Kerry regrouped quickly. “I’ll blend traditional learning with practical applications in the real world as well as using my specialty, art therapy, to help him.”
Malik frowned. “My son will never need real world applications,” he barked, realizing what a pompous ass he sounded as his words echoed in the room.
“Right. Well he might want to see animals in real life, art, science in action, so I figured something more than textbooks would make him a well-rounded person not in need of real world experience.” She stood, friendly smile now gone. “Good night.”
Malik watched her go, conflicted over whether to be happy that he’d created a professional distance between them or angry that he’d done it because it meant never exploring the chemistry between them.
In the end he decided distance was best. She was his son’s nanny after all.