“If you’re about to suggest I leave her with you and visit once a month like some weekend uncle,” he cut in, “then no.That’s not happening.”
“But...Saif, you don’t even like kids!”she blurted, whirling to face him.“That was the whole point of me leaving a year ago!You said you weren’t ready for that kind of life!”
“I didn’t know I had a daughter,” he said, voice hardening.“And now Ido.I want to know her.I want to be a part of her life.”
She backed away a step, clearly overwhelmed.
“I didn’t love being pregnant,” she admitted, voice raw.“But Iloveher.She’s fun, she’s bright, she giggles at her own toes!”
“I’d like to get to know her, too,” he said gently, leaning back against the edge of his desk, his tone softer now.“So again—I ask: what’s so wrong with the idea of getting married, having a lot of mutually satisfying sex, and raising our daughter together?”
“That’s—” she choked on the words, eyes going wide.“Not going to happen!”
Saif chuckled quietly and lowered his gaze.He could still hear the panic in her voice.But underneath that was something else—fear.Not ofhim, but of what he represented.
Commitment.Permanence.Love.
He drew in a breath, remembering the details from the security report he’d quietly commissioned.Jasper had been right about Jemma’s past—but even he hadn’t known everything.
Her father hadn’t sent a cent in support.When Jemma’s mother tried to divorce him, he’d buried her in legal obstacles until it cost her tens of thousands just to be free.Money that could’ve gone toward food, rent, education.The woman had been forced to pay him part of the house value in the settlement—just to escape.
Jemma had been raised in survival mode.Always preparing for the next betrayal.Always expecting people to leave.
No wonder she didn’t believe him.
But Saif was done walking away.
“I get it,” he said quietly.“You’ve had to do everything alone.But I’m not going anywhere.”
She didn’t answer.She just stood there, arms crossed over her chest as if she was holding herself together.
So he gave her the out she needed.
“Why don’t you come up with a plan?”he offered.“Something that doesn’t involve me being a stranger to my own daughter.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen.Two missed meetings.He didn’t care.He’d miss ten more if that’s what it took.
“We’ll talk again tonight,” he added, slipping the phone back into his pocket.“I’m coming over to meet Jayla.”
Her head jerked up, startled.“Tonight?”
“I’ll bring dinner.”
“Dinner?”she echoed, stunned, like it was the most bewildering part of the conversation.
“Yes.The meal that most people share at the end of the day?”Saif teased, his lips tugging into a slow smile.“It’s a common occurrence.”
Jemma gave a faint, reluctant smile in return, but the wariness hadn’t left her eyes.The confusion lingered there too—swirling beneath the surface.
And he noticed—she still hadn’t agreed.
“You don’t need to bring dinner,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.Her voice was measured, cautious.“I’ll cook something.”
He shook his head.“Not a chance.”
He glanced briefly over his shoulder at the spread of reports, then returned his gaze to her.“Judging by those files—and the timestamps on the emails you’ve sent at one and two in the morning—I know you’ve been working late.You’ve been bringing the job home with you, squeezing hours in after Jayla’s asleep.”
Her lips parted slightly, surprised he’d noticed.Or maybe stunned that he cared.
