Chapter 27 #2
“Which one?” He shifted Jayla in his lap, gently readjusting her as she gnawed contentedly on a colorful plastic teething ring. “Though I’d like to point out—you haven’t answered my question either.”
“Oh?” she echoed, arching an eyebrow. “Which one was that?”
The corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Why don’t you, Jasper, and Jayla move in with me?” he said smoothly. “My home has seven bedrooms. Plenty of space. It’s in a secure neighborhood, and Jayla would have twenty-four-hour protection while we’re away.”
A soft thump sounded from the bedroom wall. Saif didn’t miss a beat.
“Or when Jasper isn’t around,” he added, dryly.
A long silence followed, as if everyone were waiting for another thud. Apparently, even Jasper knew when to stay quiet.
Saif pressed on. “I have a full-time housekeeper. She cooks. She cleans. You wouldn’t have to walk a mile to the grocery store anymore.”
He paused, eyeing her curiously. “Actually, why aren’t you using the car I gave you?”
Jemma sighed. “Because it’s a roadster, Saif. There are three of us. Jayla doesn’t fit, and neither would the groceries.”
Another soft thump came from the wall, and Jemma glared at it like it had personally betrayed her. “Also,” she added sharply, “I don’t feel comfortable using a car registered in Overlock’s name for personal errands.”
Saif smirked and gave the wall a quick, amused glance. “Another reason to move in,” he said, raising his voice just slightly. “We’d all have more privacy.” He let the word hang in the air. “You could hold private conversations... without an audience.”
She could practically feel Jasper’s smug grin pressing through the drywall, but she chose to ignore it.
“And,” Saif continued, now back to stroking Jayla’s back, “Jasper needs a better school. He’s currently earning straight As, but he’s also skipping classes.”
No thump followed that statement—but a rustling shuffle suggested Jasper had just shifted in his bed.
“I’ve spoken with the admissions director at Monument,” Saif said. “The semester just started, so they’d accept him now. But he’ll have to catch up fast. It won’t be easy.”
“Yes!” Jasper burst out, practically launching himself out of his room. He stood at the end of the sofa, wide-eyed and vibrating with tension. “Jemma, I know I’m just your asshole little brother. I know how hard you’ve worked to take care of me, and I love you for that, but—!”
“Jasper,” Jemma cut in, her tone sharp with warning.
Saif intervened gently. “I’m offering to sponsor Jasper because I believe in his potential,” he said, his tone measured and respectful. “This has nothing to do with our personal situation. There are no strings attached. None.”
Jemma looked from Saif to Jasper, uncertain. She wanted to believe him.
“I mean it,” Saif said, serious now, handing Jayla a new toy. “Whether you marry me or not—whether we live together or not—I’ll still fund Jasper’s tuition. He deserves that chance.”
He turned to the teenager. “But it will be a challenge. You’ll need to keep up. Monument doesn’t spoon-feed its students. They prep for Harvard, Yale, Oxford. If you think you’re at that level—”
“Yes!” Jasper whispered, his voice breaking. He stood rigid, his long limbs tense, trembling from emotion. “Yes. I’ll even get a part-time job so I can help pay you back. For everything. For the damage to your office—”
“You’ll repay me by getting good grades,” Saif interrupted, his voice firm. “No job. You won’t have time for one.”
Jasper nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard.
Then both men looked at Jemma.
She froze beneath the weight of their hope.
Her gaze locked on Saif, searching his face for any trace of manipulation. He was calm. Steady. But she couldn’t silence the fear gnawing at her chest.
What if she said yes? What if she let him pay for Jasper’s tuition? Let him move them into his home?
Would she owe him something in return?
Would she owe him… sex?
The thought flashed unbidden through her mind—and didn’t make her stomach twist the way it should have.
“Nothing, Jemma,” Saif said again, his voice low but resolute. “What happens between you and me is completely separate from what happens with Jasper. He’s a smart kid—one of the smartest I’ve met. He needs Monument. He needs to be challenged… or he’s going to find other ways to occupy himself.”
He paused, chuckling as he looked up at Jasper who was still waiting, still hopeful. “Probably more trouble.”
Part of her wanted to say no—out of habit, out of fear, out of stubborn pride. But that wouldn’t be fair to Jasper. Saif was right. Jasper was too smart for the local school system, and her options had always been limited.
She hadn’t known he was cutting classes. That conversation would come later, behind closed doors. But for now, two sets of eyes—one full of hope, the other calm and watchful—were waiting for her response.
So she said the only thing she could.
“Fine. That’s very...”
She didn’t finish because Jasper launched himself at her with the force of a linebacker, nearly knocking her to the floor. He laughed, hugging her tight, kissing her cheek, and ruffling her hair like a puppy off leash.
“Stop!” Jemma cried, laughing as she tried to push him off. “You’re being obnoxious!”
Jasper pulled back at last, breathless, grinning from ear to ear. He straightened, then turned to Saif, his face open and earnest. “Thank you,” he said, voice thick with sincerity. “I won’t let you down.”
Jemma added quickly, “You’re going to have to deal with boarding school bullies, Jasper. You’ll be an outsider to them.”
“I can help with that,” Saif said smoothly. “A few visits from me, and he’ll be an insider in no time.”
Jasper chuckled, but his grin wavered for a second—his eyes shining with unshed emotion. He swallowed hard, nodded once, and disappeared back into his bedroom without another word.
A beat passed.
Then Jayla, perhaps sensing that she was no longer the center of attention, filled the silence with what could only be labeled an intentional poop.
The smell hit the room like a wave.
“Oh no,” Jemma groaned, eyes watering. Jayla, in contrast, beamed like she’d just saved the world.
“Where’s a clean diaper?” Saif asked, lifting Jayla and sniffing her gingerly, his face scrunching in comical dismay. “Is it necessary to confirm the source?”
Jemma laughed, hand over her nose. “I’ll handle it,” she said, standing and reaching for her daughter.
But Saif pulled back, holding Jayla securely. “Just show me where to change her,” he insisted. “I have experience with the kids from my older sister and other cousins. I’m a seasoned pro by now.”
She blinked, unsure how to respond. “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he said simply. “Just give me the supplies, Jemma. You need a break too.”
“They’re in her bedroom!” Jasper called out helpfully through the wall.
Saif smirked, then turned and headed down the hallway with Jayla in his arms like he’d been doing it for years.
Jemma watched him go, her chest tightening. And then she began to pace.
He was seeing her world now—really seeing it.
The small space. The improvised furniture.
Jayla’s room wasn’t even a nursery, just a crib by Jemma’s bed and a few used milk crates that stored clothes and diapers.
The nightstand beside the mattress on the floor was made of two plastic milk crates stacked sideways, filled with worn books.
The only items of quality in the apartment were the designer suits she’d kept from her time working under Saif—and she’d told herself it was because she needed them for work, not because she couldn’t bear to part with them.
She could almost hear the judgments forming in his mind.
But when Saif returned moments later, a clean and smiling Jayla tucked neatly in his arms, his expression wasn’t critical—it was heated.
“The beds in my house are bigger,” he said, voice low.
And then he kissed her.
It wasn’t like the earlier kiss—this one was quick, impulsive, but powerful enough to curl her toes and steal her breath. Jayla, impatient and wiggling between them, made it awkward and far less romantic—but that didn’t seem to faze him.
“I think she’s hungry,” Saif murmured, eyes flicking—just once—toward her chest before snapping politely upward. “And I suspect you’d prefer to feed her in private.”
He passed Jayla gently into her arms, his touch lingering for half a second longer than necessary.
“Think about my offer,” he added, walking to the door and pausing with one hand on the knob. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Then he was gone.
Jemma stood frozen, Jayla in her arms, the scent of warm food still hanging in the air. The toys were still scattered across the blanket on the floor. The television hummed quietly in the corner. Nothing had changed.
And yet everything had.
The air in the room felt thinner now. Lacking something important. Like it had exhaled with him.
And that was a problem.
A very big problem.