The Sheikh's Collection. Оливия Гейтс

DNA?” he asked.

      Talia crossed her arms beneath her breasts and lifted her chin. “It’s all over my Paris flat, Adan. And you happened to leave your toothbrush the night you tossed me to the gutter.”

      The sheikh’s defenses seemed to disappear right before Piper’s eyes. “We were always careful to prevent pregnancy.”

      Talia tapped her chin. “I do recall that one night last year in Milan—”

      “That was one blasted night, Talia,” he replied, his tone fraught with anger.

      “Once was quite enough.” The woman handed the carrier off to a bewildered Bridget. “Anyway, I have a photo shoot in a remote location in Tasmania, which will give you an opportunity to get to know your kid. We’ll discuss the custody particulars when I get back next month.”

      Adan narrowed his eyes in a menacing glare. “We will discuss this immediately.”

      Talia checked her watch. “My flight leaves in less than an hour.”

      “You will not take one step out this door until we talk,” Adan demanded. “Into the study. Now.”

      After the sheikh and his former girlfriend exited, Piper looked around to find Abdul had disappeared, leaving her in a quandary over what to do next. She occupied her time by surveying the beige stone walls, the ornate gold statues and the unending staircase leading to the top of the massive structure. A baby’s cry would definitely echo loudly throughout the building.

      With that in mind, Piper sought out Bridget, who’d taken a seat on the gold brocade cushioned bench set against the wall, the carrier at her feet. She smiled at the woman, who managed a slight, albeit shaky return of the gesture. But when the baby began to fuss, the presumed au pair looked completely alarmed.

      Not good. Piper launched into action, crossed to the carrier, unfolded the yellow blanket, picked up the crying infant and held him against her shoulder. After he quieted, she regarded the wide-eyed Bridget. “You aren’t a nanny, are you?”

      “No, I am not,” she finally responded, her tone hinting at a slight British accent and a lot of disdain. “I’m Talia’s personal assistant. The last nanny quit yesterday when she learned she’d have to make the trip here. Traveling with Talia isn’t pleasant under normal circumstances, let alone with a child in tow.”

      Piper claimed the vacant spot on the bench, laid the swaddled baby in the crook of her arm and studied his cherub face. “You’re beautiful, little man, although you don’t look like a Samuel. Sam fits you better.”

      “Don’t let Talia hear you call him that,” Bridget warned. “She fired the first nanny over that very thing.”

      That didn’t exactly surprise Piper after what she’d witnessed upon meeting the model. “Then she’s very protective of him, huh?”

      Bridget frowned. “Not really. She hasn’t held him more than a handful of times since his birth.”

      Piper couldn’t contain her contempt, a product of her own experience. “Good mothers hold and care for their babies. They certainly don’t foist their children off on someone else.”

      Bridget reached over and touched the infant’s arm. “You’re right, but unfortunately Talia isn’t maternal. She’s consumed by her modeling career and staying in shape. All I’ve heard since his birth is how hard she’s had to work to regain her figure. I truly believe that’s why she waited four weeks to bring the baby here.”

      Vanity, thy name is Talia. She was beginning to like her less and less. “At least now he’ll have the opportunity to bond with his father.”

      “I am not prepared to raise a child, Talia.”

      So much for bonding, Piper thought at the sound of the sheikh’s irritated tone.

      The self-centered supermodel breezed into the room with one impatient prince following close on her heels. “At least you didn’t have to suffer through thirteen hours of horrible labor last month. And just imagine pushing a soccer ball out your todger. Besides, you have a whole staff to assist you while I had to hire several useless nannies over the past month. Good help is hard to find.”

      “Perhaps that’s because you have no idea how to treat the help,” Adan muttered as he strode into the vestibule.

      Talia turned and set an oversize light blue bag next to the carrier, affording Piper only a cursory glance. “Bridget gave him a bottle three hours ago, so no doubt he’ll be hungry again very soon. There’s enough nappies, bottles and cans of formula in here to get you by until tomorrow, plus a few outfits. After that, you’re on your own. Let’s go, Bridget.”

      Without giving the baby even a passing glance, much less a kiss goodbye, Talia headed for the door with poor Bridget cowering behind her. Piper practically bit a hole in her tongue against the urge to deliver a seething diatribe aimed at the woman’s disregard for her child. Instead, she shifted Sam back to her shoulder and remained silent as Adan followed the two women to the entry and accompanied them out the door.

      When the baby began to whimper again, Piper assumed he was probably in need of another bottle. Fortunately, feeding an infant wasn’t an issue, even if it had been a while since her teenage babysitting days—the one job her grandparents had allowed her to accept, but only in a limited capacity, and exclusively for those parents who’d run in their social circle.

      Piper laid Sam vertically in her lap, rummaged through the bag, withdrew a bottle and uncapped it. He took the nipple without hesitation and suckled with great enthusiasm, complete with soft, yummy noises that brought about her smile. After he drained the formula in record time, she set the empty bottle beside her, returned him to her shoulder and rubbed his back to successfully burp him. Then she cradled him in the crook of her arm and stroked his cotton-soft cheek. For a time he stared at her with an unfocused gaze before planting his right thumb in his rosebud mouth.

      As his eyes drifted closed, Piper experienced sheer empathy for this precious little boy. She couldn’t fathom how anyone would reject such a gift. Couldn’t imagine how any mother worth her salt would simply drop off her child with a man who hadn’t even known he had a son. Then again, why should she be surprised? Her very own mother had abandoned her and Sunny with their grandparents shortly after their birth. As far as she was concerned, women like Talia Thorpe and Millicent McAdams should not be allowed to procreate.

      Despite her poor maternal example, Piper had always dreamed of having children of her own. So far she hadn’t found a suitable candidate to father her future offspring, and she certainly wasn’t going to settle for anything less than a loving relationship with a man who had the same wants and desires. A gentle, caring man. Grounded. Settled...

      “I am officially moving to Antarctica.”

      After the declaration, Adan strode past Piper and disappeared into the nearby corridor adjacent to the towering staircase. Again. Granted, she enjoyed holding baby Sam, but she hadn’t signed on to be the royal nursemaid. And apparently the sheikh hadn’t signed up for fatherhood, either.

      A few moments passed before Adan returned with a petite, attractive older woman wearing an impeccable navy tailored blazer and skirt, her salt-and-pepper hair styled in a neat bob. Yet when she caught sight of Piper and the baby, her pleasant demeanor melted into obvious confusion. “May I help you, miss?”

      “This is Piper McAdams,” Adan said. “She has accompanied the survey crew, and while she’s here, she will be my guest. Piper, this is Elena Battelli, my former governess who now governs the entire household.”

      Piper came to her feet and smiled. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

      “And I, you.” Elena leaned over and studied the baby. “What a lovely child you have. Boy or girl?”

      “He’s Talia’s child,” Adan interjected before Piper had a chance to respond.

      Elena’s initial shock melted into an acid look. “Is that dreadful woman