The Sheikh's Sleeping Beauty Nanny

by Shay Violet

  The Sheikh’s Sleeping Beauty Nanny

  A Royal Interracial Romance

  Shay Violet

  freebook.shayviolet.com

  Copyright © 2019 by Shay Violet

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  freebook.shayviolet.com

  Contents

  1. Aurora

  2. Aurora

  3. Jai

  4. Jai

  5. Aurora

  6. Aurora

  7. Jai

  8. Aurora

  9. Jai

  10. Aurora

  11. Aurora

  12. Jai

  13. Aurora

  14. Jai

  15. Aurora

  16. Aurora

  17. Jai

  18. Aurora

  19. Jai

  20. Aurora

  21. Jai

  22. Aurora

  23. Jai

  24. Jai

  25. Aurora

  26. Jai

  Also by Shay Violet

  1

  Aurora

  Riding my bike down a trail I’m not used to taking, I furiously pedal as fast as my legs will allow. Pain sears through my thighs. My calves burn. I wince, wiping away beads of sweat that collect on my forehead. I mop the back of my neck with my gloved hand, sweeping my ponytail off my skin from where it’s sticking.

  The humidity is unforgiving, to say the very least. I’m late for work. I don’t have a car, what do you want me to say? I get around the best I can. Today, I’m trying to take a shortcut, but it’s not working out the way I hoped and I’m failing miserably in my attempt to shave some time off my two-wheeled commute.

  The bike path I’m on is windy and full of leaves that crunch under the weight of my rubber tires.

  “At least it’s shady on this path, Aurora,” I tell myself as I glance up at the canopy of plush trees and realize they are like an umbrella against the brutally hot sun.

  I’m not familiar with the area I’m riding in. I’ve only biked this path once or twice that I can recall. I glance over my shoulder. I have that eerie, hair standing up on the back of my neck tingling feeling. You know the sensation I’m talking about. When you think something is out of place or that someone might be following you? Yeah. I have that, and it’s creeping me out.

  I scan my surroundings. Didn’t I just pass that same tree with the low-lying branch and the purple flower buds on it? I’m certain that I did, but there’s no way for me to confirm it because everything looks the same in this wooded wilderness I’m riding through.

  I see a fork in the road. It’s metaphorical to see a fork in the road and have to make a decision, sure, but I seriously need to make one.

  “I think I turned left last time…” I trail off, hearing the uncertainty twinging slightly in my voice.

  At the last second, I lurch the bike to the left with a hard clutch on the break. The tires screech a whining sound in protest.

  I speed up, pumping my legs around and around in a circle so vigorously you would have thought I was the instructor of a spin class.

  I level off at the top of a hill and as I reach the incline, I realize that I know exactly where I am now.

  “I remember that bridge,” I declare to myself with a new edge of confidence.

  I adjust my butt on the seat, toss my curls off my shoulders and keep going toward a wooden bridge. The bridge itself isn’t on my personal navigation map, but I do remember passing it because of how interesting it was the first time I ever encountered it.

  With its pale blonde planks speckled with flakes of white, the aspen bridge is set apart from the rest of the dark wooded area. The large cedars stretching to the sky, almost as if they compete to see which one gets to blot out the sun first.

  In this moment, something else captures my attention, and almost too late. I am so fascinated by the surrounding forest I almost miss it. A pair of squirrel’s skirt across an eye-level wobbly tree limb and it bounces and boomerangs them to a corresponding branch. They tousle and roll together and disappear under thick brush sitting on top of a bed of leaves.

  Seeing animals play together brings me to my next encounter, and the reason my distraction jolts me back to reality in a millisecond.

  I suppress my scream. I swerve the bike in a last-ditch effort to not barrel directly into a little girl. Her red coat is a vibrant complementary color in this lush green wilderness.

  The little girl whips around. Her brown eyes are enormous and stare at me in pure shock. Her tiny mouth puckers into a perfect oval of crimson.

  The little girl takes off, and when I say she takes off, I mean it. She races over the bridge with gigantic strides that leave me speechless. How the hell is she so damn fast?

  “Wait!” I call out to her. “Where are you going?”

  Luckily, I’m on a bike which gives me an advantage. I quickly catch up to the girl. The hood of her red coat flaps with each jerky movement she makes to widen the gap between us.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I finally shout to her. “I want to help you.”

  The little girl slows to a light jog, but she doesn’t halt running completely. She tosses a glance over her shoulder at me and I see the apprehension shimmering in her eyes.

  I give her the kindest smile I can muster. “Are you hurt? I didn’t even see you…”

  The little girl finally stops walking. She slowly turns around and peers at me through large blinking brown eyes. She shakes her head and frowns.

  “So…. you’re not hurt?” I ask again for confirmation.

  The little girl shakes her head again, staring at me expectantly. I climb off my bike. I push the kickstand up and approach the little girl slowly because I’m afraid she will bolt again if I startle her.

  She stands there, giving me a curious look.

  I lean down so I’m eye-level with her. I plant a knee on the asphalt path, wincing in the process because my legs are so damn sore. I’ve all but forgotten about running late for work. I’m a hopeless hot mess. I’ll be the first to admit it.

  “Are you lost?” I ask.

  The little girl continues to hold my gaze. Her eyes are piercing. Her eyelashes are full, breathtaking. Her hood covers her face in ominous shadows. I wonder what kinds of mysteries lurk beneath those eyes.

  “Where’s your mommy?” I ask when she hesitates to answer my first question.

  Why I assume that she’ll be any extra inclined to answer a second question from me when she hasn’t yet answered the first one is anybody’s guess.

  The little girl’s eyes quickly flicker to the side and then return to meet my gaze in an instant. The observance is so brief I have to think twice on whether it actually happened.

  “If you want me to help you, you have to meet me in the middle here.” I chuckle nervously and give her a gentle gaze.

  The little girl’s features soften somewhat. Her shoulders visibly relax, but she doesn’t remove the hood of her jacket. She seems partial to keeping her face hidden behind it, almost as a defense mechanism.

  “I can bring you back to your mommy if you tell me where she is,” I tenderly offer.

  I take her hand, but she swiftly reels back, taking at least two strides backward.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, baby,” I whisper softly.

  The little girl’s eyes well with a puddle of tears and her eyebrows furrow with profound sadness that makes my heart ache. I recognize that look in the little girl’s eyes. It’s like a
mirror reflecting back the pain and struggle I endured as a child.

  Growing up, I bounced from foster home to foster home. I never felt like I could find a place to rest and call home. I grew up lonely, but in adulthood I do my best to prevent my bitter past from strangling me or preventing me from moving forward. Life is all about progression and peace, even on the toughest of days in the direst of situations.

  I shift my weight, still eye level with the stoic girl. “Let me ask you something else. Who is taking care of you?”

  “I’m… lost.” The little girl’s voice comes out like a quiet squeak, almost mousy.

  A pool of tears collect in her eyes. She sniffs and wipes her nose with the back of her hand.

  “It’s okay sweetie,” I soothe. “I can take you home.”

  The little girl peers up at me with eyes full of intrigue and hope.

  “Do you know where my home is?” The little girl asks in an adorable voice.

  I chuckle. “No, not until you tell me.”

  “It’s in South Park,” she declares. “146 Brussels Avenue.”

  “I know the area,” I say and smile. “It’s in the rich part of town.”

  “The rich part of town?” The little girl cocks her head to the side in confusion.

  “Yeah. Uh… never mind.” I chuckle and gesture for her to follow me.

  “I don’t have a helmet for you, but I can walk my bike while you walk along beside me. What do you think about that?”

  For the first time, the little girl smiles. Her face lights up like a candle glowing in a dim room.

  “I think that sounds fun.”

  “Yeah?” I ask and catch my breath, collecting myself as I bring myself back to a standing position.

  I guess I have nothing better to do, anyway. My boss already told me that if I was late again, he would fire me. What else is new? Not to sound like a downer, but when it rains it pours. I’m used to disappointment, but most of the time I’m the one who tees it up and makes the swing.

  We reach the clearing where the path steers into a giant park. Across the stoplight intersection is South Park, where the city’s most elite and wealthy dwell.

  We cross the sidewalk, and the little girl holds my hand, pulling me along as she directs me down the streets. Rows of dogwood and maple trees line the sidewalks. The grass is manicured, intricately cut into zig-zag shapes.

  Houses sit perched like mini-mansions at the tops of large lots and long driveways. I give the little girl a sideways glance and pitch my eyebrow doubtfully.

  “You live in this neighborhood?”

  The little girl shrugs and giggles. There is a zesty spark flaring from her personality as she adjusts. “Yes. Why?”

  “Nothing.” I shake my head, grin at her and continue walking down the sidewalk. Somehow, I feel like I’m not worthy enough to even walk on it. We haven’t even made it to the house yet, so I can’t imagine how much my self-worth will deplete like a popped balloon once we arrive.

  “How much farther, do you think?” I ask.

  The little girl gives me a mischievous grin. I wonder if this is a set-up, but then her eyes glimmer with sincerity. “Not too much farther.”

  She squeezes my hand. It’s amazing how fast the twists and turns of life can zip you around. Up and down like a rollercoaster, I’m just here to glide through the adventure and have fun.

  2

  Aurora

  As we continue our afternoon trek, I steal a glance at the little girl. She seems overall contented now. She doesn’t have that skittish, runaway fright in her eyes any longer. She begins to softly hum.

  I smile at her curiously. “Do you know the story of Little Red Riding Hood?” I ask.

  “Little Red Riding Hood?” The little girl asks in that angelic voice again as she scopes me out with wonderment. I swear my ovaries do a happy little skip each time she looks at me.

  “Yeah.” I nudge her arm and pluck at her coat. “Your red coat reminds me of the fairy tale.”

  The girl’s eyes brighten. “I love fairy tales.”

  I give her a warm smile. “Me too.”

  I share the story of Red Riding Hood with her. She seems invested, nodding and smiling and gasping during some of the more exciting parts.

  “So, the little girl continues to weave her way through the winding forest,” I explain. “Her mother warned her to stay on track and not to get distracted,” I add.

  “That sounds like my dad,” the little girl says with a chuckle, but it comes out sounding more like a scoff.

  “What’s your dad like?” I ask.

  “He’s… fine.” The little girl shrugs.

  I laugh, but inside I’m wondering if this little girl’s father might be a real-life Big Bad Wolf. I press her a little deeper, but not too far.

  “Fine?”

  “Yeah.” The little girl doesn’t look at me.

  She’s still clutching my hand and staring straight ahead. Her face is partially hidden beneath her red hood. Her little palms are getting sticky from the walk, even though technically we haven’t been walking very far.

  “Well anyway,” I say and begin the story again after a few moments of distraction, “where was I again?”

  I ask to observe whether the little girl is paying attention to the story.

  “You were at the part where the mommy tells the daughter to not stray from her path in the woods.”

  “Right.” I nod with confirmation. “So, the little girl is walking along, and she is holding the food in a basket to bring to her sick grandmother.”

  “That’s a nice thing to do.” The girl looks up at me and smiles.

  “Yes.” I give her an agreeable nod. “You’re right. It is a very nice thing to do. We want to do kind things for one another, don’t we?”

  The little girl looks sad as if kind things don’t happen to her often. My heart aches for her again.

  “Then a wolf comes along. He’s been stalking her. He beckons to her and tries to coax her to come near.”

  “How?” The little girl’s eyes light up with intrigue.

  “Well, he asks her questions about where she is going,” I say.

  The little girl frowns. “You did that.”

  “I know.” I chuckle. “But I’m not the Big Bad Wolf. This is your neighborhood, isn’t it?”

  The girl acutely nods. “Yes.”

  “See? You are safe and sound with me.” I give her a warm smile.

  Her eyes shimmer with acknowledgment. “I guess I’m right.”

  “However,” I say with a gentle lecture, “you should still be careful talking to strangers. If they offer you candy and ask you to go somewhere with them, you probably shouldn’t do it.”

  The little girl gives me a sideways smile. “I know.”

  “You do?” I grin at her. “Well, that’s very good. You are a very smart young lady.”

  She giggles again, sounding like a little goddess. I wonder if I’ll ever have kids. I’m not normally good with kids as a general rule, but there’s something different with this one.

  I feel an instant bond with her. She’s also pretty darned cute, which adds to her likability. It’s obvious that she lives in a swanky neighborhood, but she doesn’t behave like a little brat in the slightest.

  She doesn’t look as scared as when I found her on the bike path bridge, which gives me a little consolation I must be doing something right, or, at the very least, distracting her from anything that might bother her.

  I’m not sure if I should tell her the ending of Little Red Riding Hood and how the wolf gets to the grandmother’s house first, sneaks in, eats her, and then dresses up as the grandma.

  I don’t know if it’s the best approach to calm down a little girl who has already been through the distress of getting lost in the woods. I steer our conversation in another direction.

  “Do you know the story of Hansel and Gretel?” I ask.

  Okay, I know how that probably sounds. A cannibalistic witch who lures
little children to her house made of candy doesn’t seem like the best story to tell a little girl whom I’ve known for a short time, but the fact that both children escaped the witch without being eaten, and Red Riding Hood escaping the wolf too. Both are bad ass fairytales.

  The little girl ponders. “I don’t think so.”

  “Hey, I just realized something.” I smile at her. “You didn’t even tell me your name yet.”

  “My name?” The girl looks suddenly flustered.

  “I can tell you my name first…?” I don’t know why I blanked on not asking her what her name was until now.

  Like I said before, I’m not the best with kids. I’m still learning as I go. It’s not like she came with a manual or anything.

  The little girl gives me a giddy grin. Her lips curl adorably at the edges, leaving a soft dimple in the side of her left cheek. She nods. “Tell me your name first.”

  “I’m Aurora.” I point to myself.

  “Aurora? That’s pretty,” she states sweetly.

  I give her a beaming smile. “Thank you very much.”

  “My name is Nadia,” she affirms proudly. “It means first. My dad says he puts me first, always.” She looks straight ahead. “Or at least, he tries to put me first.”

  “That’s a beautiful name, and that’s sweet of your father to say,” I tell her with a smile to match her radiant one. Her chocolate eyes shimmer with happiness and her cherry lips stretch into a fantastic smile.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I notice that her step has a little zing in it now and she bounces along from heel to heel, swaying my arm back and forth with hers, since she's linked her hand to mine.