She leaned against the doorway, soaking wet, utterly exhausted, and stared at the two people she loved more than anything in the world.
Her heart ached.
Not just from the fear.Not just from what Saif had said, or what he might discover, or what tomorrow would bring.
But from this—this impossible sweetness in a world that never stopped trying to crush her.
“Mommy’s home!”Jasper finally called out as he lifted the tiny infant into his arms.
Chapter 7
Saif left the restaurant with his jaw tight and his patience worn thin—not with the businessmen who had wasted his time pitching flimsy ideas, but withhimself.
Three men.One polished proposal.A dinner of prime steak with Béarnaise sauce and a bottle of wine he’d handpicked for its precise structure and finish.
He didn’t remember a word of what had been said.
Couldn’t recall the flavor of the steak.Hadn’t even registered the wine as it slid down his throat.
All of it had blurred into the background the moment Jemma re-entered his life.
Or rather, the moment she’dstumbledback into it—soaked to the skin, haunted behind the eyes, still proud as hell.
She was hiding something.That much was obvious.
But what?
Yes, she was shielding her brother.That much, he understood.Respected, even.Loyalty was something Saif valued more than most.
He remembered Jasper clearly from a year ago.The kid had been taller than most men his age, almost six feet already, lanky and energetic, sharp as a blade.He used to sit at Saif’s dinner table, cracking dumb jokes while rattling off facts about neuroscience or ancient civilizations like he was reciting a movie script.
Jasper had been the kind of kid who read four books a week for fun—on top of schoolwork.He’d been destined for greatness.Possibly even brilliance.
So what the hell had pushedthatkid to break into a high-security office and vandalize it like a common delinquent?
Stripping off his clothes, Saif stepped into the shower, hoping to scrub away the tension.The water was hot, but it didn’t help.The questions clung to him like steam.
And then there was Jemma.
She hadn’t just looked drenched.She’d lookedwrung out.There had been no coat and no umbrella.
She had a damn car, so why had she appeared completely drenched.Why hadn’t she used the garage?
Had she walked in the rain on purpose?
Why?
And why had she looked like she hadn’t slept in days?
He clenched his jaw, his fists resting against the cool tile.
The worst part?
He’d noticed.Everything.
The way her white blouse clung to her skin, transparent and sinful.The way her nipples had pressed against the fabric—taut, flushed, undeniably arousing.
And his body had reacted.Violently.
