She remembered sleeping against that chest.Making love with this man.Her fingers in his hair.Her lips on his skin.The way he’d made her feel safe and desired and powerful—all at once.Saif had been more than just her lover.He’d been her partner.Her teacher.The only man who’d ever looked at her and seenpotential, not a placeholder.
When they’d met, she’d still been soft—still worried about hurting people’s feelings in meetings, still hesitant to speak up.Saif had taught her not to shrink.Not to apologize for being intelligent.He’d taught her to own her space.
Until she’d given it all up.
Now, she worked for a man who punished dissent and rewarded submission.Who shut her down before she could speak.Who demanded coffee and silence instead of insight.
Not because she’d become weak.
But because she couldn’t afford to lose the job that was keeping a roof over their heads.
“I’ll pay you for the damage,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady.“Just send me the bill.I’ll take care of it.”
Her eyes never wavered, though her stomach churned.She had no ideahowshe’d pay him back.She could barely keep up with her mother’s medical debt.But she’d figure it out.Somehow.
Even if it meant letting the interest pile up on the hospital bills again.
Because she’d rather be indebted to the cruel, heartless American healthcare system than tohim.
With Saif, it wouldn’t just be financial.
It would be personal.
“I’m so sorry my brother did this,” she said softly, her voice almost breaking.
And then she turned.
Quickly.
Deliberately.
She walked toward the door, every step stiff with determination.She wouldn’t cry.She wouldn’t beg.She’d face this, take the hit, and protect Jasper.
She made it to the threshold—just one more step and she’d be gone.
But then his voice, low and commanding, stopped her cold.
“Jemma.”
Just her name.
But it held a thousand questions.
And not a single ounce of forgiveness.
Chapter 5
Saif told himself to let her go.
She was already halfway through the door—nearly out of his life again.Just like before.
All he had to do was stand still.
But he couldn’t.
Not after the fleeting look of panic in her eyes.Not after the flash of something—something he didn’t want to name—when she’d glanced back at him.It had struck him like a punch to the gut, and his body had responded before his brain could stop it.
Had it been regret?Longing?A spark of hope?
