“How are you going to make this right?”he asked, his voice low and taut.
He wasn’t asking out of pettiness.
He wasn’t sure what he was asking for at all.
An apology?
An explanation?
Or maybe just a reason to stop thinking about her every damn night when he closed his eyes.
She stood there in soaked heels and a translucent blouse, eyes still locked on the mess her brother had left behind.
She hadn’t said a word yet.
But he could feel it—something was coming.
And he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.
Chapter 4
Jemma froze just inside the door, her eyes wide and stunned as she took in the chaos.
She didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
The room looked like a war zone, and she could feel the blood drain from her face as her gaze swept over the damage.The shattered desk.The destroyed chair.
But it was the symbols that made her breath catch.
Her head tilted, eyes narrowing on the strange squiggles painted on the far wall.They weren’t random.They weren’t vandalism for vandalism’s sake.
They werecodes.
Recognition hit like a punch to the gut.
Jasper.
She’d seen those symbols before—just a few weeks ago.He’d been sprawled on the floor of their apartment, flipping through a book about American history and subcultures.He’d been fascinated by the hobo code, an old visual language used by transient workers during the Great Depression.Symbols left in chalk or carved into fences—messages about where to find shelter, work, danger.
She hadn’t paid much attention at the time.She’d been folding laundry.Distracted.
Now she stared at the symbols again, her heart pounding as the pieces snapped into place.
This wasn’t some senseless tantrum.
Jasper had beensending a message.
And whatever that message was, he’d used Saif’s office as the canvas.
Slowly, she turned to face Saif.
He was too close—standing just behind her like a wall of heat and fury and questions.She took a step back, needing space, needing breath.
But he followed her with his eyes.
Good grief, he looked the same.Better, even.That crisp white shirt strained slightly over the muscles covering his chest, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing the cords of muscles there as well.He was all strength and sharp edges.The kind of man who took up every inch of space in a room without saying a word.
