Joannie would be a problem.Jemma made a mental note to contact an outside agency.A new HR director was her first priority.No progress could happen without the right people—and Joannie would block every hire out of spite.Better to work around her for now than waste energy on a losing battle.
But that wasn’t her biggest concern.
Down the long, undecorated room, her eyes met Saif’s.That look… was it admiration?
She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a staffer stepped in, handed him a small box, and disappeared.
The silence that followed pulsed with awareness.
That old, electric awareness—the kind that led to tangled sheets and breathless mornings.
Nope!Not again.She couldn’t afford it.
Not with Jasper.Not with Jayla.Not with fifty employees suddenly depending on her.
“This is for you,” Saif said, setting the sleek black box on the table, cream ribbon perfectly tied.But he didn’t push it toward her.
He just stood there.Waiting.
Waiting for her to come to him?
“Saif, we’re not… together anymore,” she said, voice low as she glanced at the doorway to ensure no one was within earshot.
“This is to help you do your job more effectively, Jemma.”He gestured to the box, then looked back at her, a quiet challenge in his eyes.
“What is it?”she asked warily.
“Come look,” he replied, his tone almost teasing.
She leaned against the far wall, amused despite herself.There was something about him.There always had been.
“I think it’s safer if I stay over here.”
He chuckled, that deep, wicked sound she remembered so clearly.It sent heat curling down her spine.Damn, she remembered that laugh—close to her ear, tangled in her hair, followed by clothes hitting the floor.
“Saif,” she warned, “you can’t give me presents anymore.”
“I can do whatever the hell I want,” he countered, unapologetic.Then his eyes dropped to her wrist.Bare.
“You sold the watch I gave you, didn’t you?”
She instinctively covered her wrist.“Yes,” she said quietly.“And the jewelry too.”
The diamond earrings.The bracelet.All gone.
The amount she’d gotten from the pawn shop had barely made a dent in the medical bills.
By the time the funeral bills were added to the medical debts, she was drowning.The house had been mortgaged.Her mother’s old sedan worthless.The watch and jewelry were the last things she’d sold.The man who bought them had seen her desperation—and bled her dry.
“You feel it too, don’t you?”he asked, voice low, coaxing, like he was trying to keep her from bolting.
Jemma considered various ways to answer, andwent with the truth.“It doesn’t matter,” she admitted.“The past year has been very hard.I’ve made mistakes.”
“The first one being quitting your job with me.”
“I had my reasons.”
A dark eyebrow shot up.“What were they?”he demanded.“And don’t give me that ‘it was time’ crap, I won’t accept it.That’s not an answer.”
