Chapter 39
“We’ll get married this weekend in the backyard,” Saif announced as soon as everyone sat down to dinner.
“We will?” Jemma asked, her voice cool but steady.
Jasper turned sharply toward her. “You are?”
All around the table, forks paused midair. The men scowled while the women hid their smiles behind their wine glasses.
Angela, Saif’s older sister, was the first to break the silence. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.” She gave Jemma an assessing look. “You don’t strike me as someone who wants a huge, lavish wedding. Am I right?”
Jemma swallowed and nodded. “You’re right, but…” She lifted her chin. “I haven’t agreed to marry Saif yet.”
Another silence fell—sharper this time.
Prince Raj leaned slightly forward, glaring at his son. “You haven’t even proposed?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
Saif sighed and set his wine glass down with deliberate care. “Of course I’ve proposed.” He turned to Jemma and scowled. “We’re getting married.”
“We need to work a few things out first,” she countered evenly, cutting another piece of chicken as if they were discussing renovations instead of matrimony.
She wasn’t intimidated. Not anymore.
Not after spending the afternoon with Angela and Helen—two sharp, gorgeous, powerhouse women who carried themselves like royalty because, well, they kind of were.
Angela, technically some kind of queen, had leaned in and shared stories that painted her fierce-looking husband as an oversized marshmallow when it came to his kids.
Tiro and Raj might look like they could level a city, but they’d been sprawled out on the floor with Jayla and the other children, babbling in silly voices and losing at Candy Land.
It was disarming. Endearing.
And made Jemma wonder if maybe—just maybe—Saif was capable of being that kind of man too.
But she didn’t trust it. Not completely. Not yet. She didn’t trust that a man as magnetic and commanding as Saif could look at her and never wish for something shinier, sleeker, easier.
Which was why she hadn’t said yes.
And absolutely why she wasn’t letting him dictate wedding plans like she was already his.
“What do you mean?” Saif rasped.
She kept her eyes on her plate. “Just that we might need to work a few other things out.”
A sharp clatter echoed as Saif stood abruptly. Without a word, he kissed Jayla’s cheek, then passed her to Raj, who accepted her with a tenderness that made Jemma blink.
“We’ll be back in a moment,” Saif announced.
He walked around the table with deliberate calm and held out a hand to Jemma. The men nodded with approval. Raj held Jayla like she was spun glass, eyes steady on his son.
“Where are we going?” Jemma asked, turning toward Jasper, hoping for backup.
But Helen—traitor—rested a graceful hand on Jasper’s forearm, holding him back.
“It will be fine,” she murmured.
Tiro nodded, adding a wink.
Jemma opened her mouth to protest—too late.
Saif scooped her up with ridiculous ease and tossed her over his shoulder.
“We’ll have this resolved in a moment,” he told the group as Jemma let out a frustrated squeak.
The dining room doors swung closed behind them.
Saif carried her down the hallway like she weighed nothing. When he reached the library, he pushed the double doors open with his hip and stepped inside, setting her on her feet.
She exhaled loudly, shoving hair out of her face as she took in the room.
And promptly forgot to be mad.
Ten-foot ceilings. Wall-to-wall bookcases. Rich wood paneling and golden sconces casting a warm glow across shelves that held everything from battered paperbacks to leather-bound tomes.
But Saif didn’t give her a chance to examine the books. He swept her up again and set her down firmly on what she assumed was a desk.
“What’s this about not accepting my proposal?” he demanded, sliding his hands beneath her knees and tilting her back.
“Wha… what are you doing?” she asked, grabbing at his shoulders to steady herself.
“Why won’t you marry me?” he repeated, shifting her back a little more, deliberately keeping her off balance.
“Because—” she gasped as he stepped between her knees. Her slacks offered little defense against the heat of him.
“That’s not a very coherent reason,” he said, his voice low and challenging.
She let out a hiss when he moved against her. “I’m not rejecting you, Saif,” she said, but it lacked conviction—especially when she moaned at the feel of his lips trailing along her neck.
“I feel rejected,” he murmured, nipping her earlobe.
She tried to laugh, but it melted into a shaky sound that was more moan than chuckle.
“This is cheating,” she whispered.
“I don’t care.” He lifted his head, his dark eyes locking with hers. “I want you as my wife. I want to know you can’t just walk away from this—whatever we are, whatever we’ve built.”
Jemma swallowed hard.
Her mind offered up the memory like it always did when things got too real—her mother sobbing into the couch cushions, thinking no one could hear. The mailbox hesitations. The overdue notices. The quiet kind of dread that settled into a home and never left.
“You’re thinking about your father, aren’t you?”
“My mother,” she admitted softly.
He reached for her hand and placed it over his heart. “Do you really think I’m the kind of man who would walk away from my responsibilities?”
“I don’t like being called a responsibility.”
He nodded, taking that in without flinching. “Then do you think I’m the kind of man who would walk away from his family?”
Jemma looked up at him, her heart pounding against her ribs. Her answer came quietly but with certainty. “No.”
That seemed to satisfy him. He nodded, then kissed her gently. And then his eyes widened. “Alleana! I never told you how much I love you!”
She flinched. “Don’t say something you don’t mean, Saif.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I love you, Jemma. I’ve loved you so long, it feels like you’ve always been part of me.” He lifted her hand, stepping back just enough to let her sit up—but he stayed between her legs. “When you left me, my world cracked apart.”
“You bought three companies this year,” she countered, trying to pull away.
But he held her still, his grip firm at her hips. “Distractions. Every one of them. I buried myself in work to keep from drowning in what you’d done.”
His hands slid slowly along her outer thighs. “You remember how it felt when your father left? How confusing and painful it was?”
She stilled, blinking at him. The memory was instant—and sharp.
“I was just a kid.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Pain is pain. That’s how I felt when you walked out.
One day, we were laughing over dinner, you fell asleep in my arms. The next, you handed me a resignation letter like I was just…
just a job you’d outgrown.” He clenched his jaw and stepped back, dragging a hand through his hair.
“It wasn’t time for me, Jem. I wasn’t done.
I moved across the world trying to make sense of it—furious that you walked away from something powerful. Something real.”
She realized then—he was truly angry. Angrier than she’d ever seen him.
“And that’s why you wanted revenge?” she asked quietly, thinking of the way he’d stormed back into her life, blackmailing her into working for him.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I wanted to destroy you the way you’d destroyed me.”
He stepped closer, bracing his fists on the wood beside her hips. “But the moment I saw you again, I saw the pain in your eyes. The longing. The need.” He stared down at her. “Tell me you don’t love me, Jemma. I’ll still support you, Jayla, and Jasper, no matter what.”
Her lips parted. She wanted to deny it. To protect herself. To hide how deeply, dangerously she still loved him.
But when she looked up at him, into those fierce, wounded eyes… she couldn’t lie.
Not to Saif. Never to Saif.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I never stopped.” Her fingers cupped his jaw and she kissed him, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I adored you from the moment you burst into my life.” She pulled back, her voice trembling. “But—”
“No buts,” he said firmly. “Marry me. Take a risk on me. You already know I’m not going to walk away.”
“Yes, but—”
“Take a risk,” he urged again, his voice low and rough. “I won’t let you down.”
They held still, suspended in a breathless moment.
Then, softly, she said the only word she could.
“Yes.”
Saif exhaled in relief and caught her in his arms, kissing her deeply—pouring every bit of pent-up longing into that moment. When he finally pulled back, still holding her close, he asked, “And you’ll agree to marry me?”
“Yes,” she said again, her heart thudding. But this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was joy.
“Excellent,” he grinned, kissing her once more. “Tomorrow, we go ring shopping. Then you’ll find a dress.” He tucked her hand through his arm. “I suspect my mother and sister have already started planning the wedding.”
Jemma laughed, the tightness in her chest gone. “Do I get a say in the ceremony?”
“Probably not. But that’s okay, since I plan to keep you in bed until the wedding so you don’t change your mind.”
She raised a brow. “Oh? And what about Jayla?”
He paused as they walked back toward the dining room. “Good point. I’m not giving up time with her. So I guess you’ll have to go to work while I stay home and bond with the daughter you kept hidden from me.”
Her laughter faltered. “I’m sorry, Saif. I truly thought you didn’t want kids.”
He nodded. “I thought back and… I remember the things I said. I understand why you believed that.”
“Never again,” she vowed. “Your name is on her birth certificate. I never tried to erase you.”
“We’ll recover,” he said simply.
Hand in hand, they stepped back into the dining room. The conversation had somehow veered into a heated debate about baseball.
Jemma resumed her seat while Saif scooped Jayla into his arms, planting a loud kiss on her cheek. Jayla giggled and patted his face with her tiny hands, delight written all over her.
Jemma tried to focus on her dinner, but it was hard with Saif watching her like that.
With a look that promised very naughty things later.