Chapter 25
Saif watched as Jemma’s expression shifted—first from excitement to confusion... and then to outright horror.
Not quite the reaction he’d been hoping for.
“Wedding?” she echoed, her voice a strangled whisper, disbelief flashing across her face.
“Yes,” he replied calmly, stepping closer. “Our wedding. I’ve considered the situation carefully and reviewed custody options with my legal team.” He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “The only practical way we raise our daughter together is if we get married.”
Jemma’s jaw dropped. “But—!”
“Are you going to pretend there’s no attraction between us?” he interrupted, taking another step forward. From where he stood, he could see the quick flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, the way her breathing hitched.
“Yes!” she gasped, fingers curling into tight fists at her sides.
He stopped just inches from her now, his eyes gleaming with something hot and dangerous. “So if I touched you... like this,” he murmured, letting one finger trail slowly down the soft skin of her bare arm, “you’d feel nothing?”
She leaned into the touch before she realized it—then pulled back as if burned, arms wrapping protectively around her middle.
Saif smiled, the kind of slow, knowing smile that made her stomach drop.
“You do feel it,” he said, satisfaction curling in his voice. “Which makes marriage the perfect solution for our... situation.”
“We don’t have a situation,” she insisted, but her voice faltered. She stepped away from him, needing distance, needing space to breathe. “We have a daughter. That’s not the same thing.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from grabbing her, dragging her close and showing her exactly how much it was still the same thing. But he held himself in check.
“Then explain,” he said, voice quiet now. “How do you suggest we raise Jayla—together?”
Jemma opened her mouth, then closed it again. She bit down on her lower lip, clearly flustered.
Saif’s breath caught.
God, that mouth.
“We could—”
“If you’re about to suggest I leave her with you and visit once a month like some weekend uncle,” he cut in, “then no. That’s not happening.”
“But... Saif, you don’t even like kids!” she blurted, whirling to face him. “That was the whole point of me leaving a year ago! You said you weren’t ready for that kind of life!”
“I didn’t know I had a daughter,” he said, voice hardening. “And now I do. I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life.”
She backed away a step, clearly overwhelmed.
“I didn’t love being pregnant,” she admitted, voice raw. “But I love her. She’s fun, she’s bright, she giggles at her own toes!”
“I’d like to get to know her, too,” he said gently, leaning back against the edge of his desk, his tone softer now. “So again—I ask: what’s so wrong with the idea of getting married, having a lot of mutually satisfying sex, and raising our daughter together?”
“That’s—” she choked on the words, eyes going wide. “Not going to happen!”
Saif chuckled quietly and lowered his gaze. He could still hear the panic in her voice. But underneath that was something else—fear. Not of him, but of what he represented.
Commitment. Permanence. Love.
He drew in a breath, remembering the details from the security report he’d quietly commissioned. Jasper had been right about Jemma’s past—but even he hadn’t known everything.
Her father hadn’t sent a cent in support.
When Jemma’s mother tried to divorce him, he’d buried her in legal obstacles until it cost her tens of thousands just to be free.
Money that could’ve gone toward food, rent, education.
The woman had been forced to pay him part of the house value in the settlement—just to escape.
Jemma had been raised in survival mode. Always preparing for the next betrayal. Always expecting people to leave.
No wonder she didn’t believe him.
But Saif was done walking away.
“I get it,” he said quietly. “You’ve had to do everything alone. But I’m not going anywhere.”
She didn’t answer. She just stood there, arms crossed over her chest as if she was holding herself together.
So he gave her the out she needed.
“Why don’t you come up with a plan?” he offered. “Something that doesn’t involve me being a stranger to my own daughter.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen. Two missed meetings. He didn’t care. He’d miss ten more if that’s what it took.
“We’ll talk again tonight,” he added, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “I’m coming over to meet Jayla.”
Her head jerked up, startled. “Tonight?”
“I’ll bring dinner.”
“Dinner?” she echoed, stunned, like it was the most bewildering part of the conversation.
“Yes. The meal that most people share at the end of the day?” Saif teased, his lips tugging into a slow smile. “It’s a common occurrence.”
Jemma gave a faint, reluctant smile in return, but the wariness hadn’t left her eyes. The confusion lingered there too—swirling beneath the surface.
And he noticed—she still hadn’t agreed.
“You don’t need to bring dinner,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Her voice was measured, cautious. “I’ll cook something.”
He shook his head. “Not a chance.”
He glanced briefly over his shoulder at the spread of reports, then returned his gaze to her.
“Judging by those files—and the timestamps on the emails you’ve sent at one and two in the morning—I know you’ve been working late.
You’ve been bringing the job home with you, squeezing hours in after Jayla’s asleep. ”
Her lips parted slightly, surprised he’d noticed. Or maybe stunned that he cared.
“So tonight,” he continued, “you get a break. No work. No cooking. I’ll bring dinner, and you’ll introduce me to our daughter.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate register.
“And once she’s down for the night... you can try to convince me that your plan for the future makes more sense than mine.”
He was standing in front of her now, close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes.
“However,” he murmured, his gaze locking with hers, “I’d like to leave you with this thought.”
Before she could react, he slipped an arm around her waist and drew her gently into his arms.
Then he kissed her.
Her breath caught in her throat, and for one suspended second, she stood frozen in surprise.
Then her lips softened against his.
She melted into him slowly, instinctively, her arms lifting just slightly before she caught herself—too late. Saif deepened the kiss, his hand sliding up her back, pressing her closer. He felt the heat rise between them, the way she moved in his arms—responsive, fluid, his.
It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claim. A promise. A reminder of everything they’d been... and everything they still could be.
When he finally pulled away, their breaths mingled in the narrow space between them. Her eyes were wide, stunned, her cheeks flushed with color. He steadied her with both hands, his thumb brushing her elbow lightly until she found her balance again.
Then—without another word—he turned and walked out of the office.
Because the alternative?
The alternative was hauling her onto the desk and showing her exactly how good it could be between them again. And that, as much as he wanted it, wasn’t an option.
Not yet.
Leaving her there, dazed and breathless, was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
But it had to be her choice next.