He tugged gently, leading her toward the door.
“There’s a sister school too,” he added as they walked.“That one’s even more intense.All girls.All geniuses.”
He stepped into the waiting elevator and turned to her, holding the door with one hand.
Jemma paused on the threshold, brows drawing together.“Where are we going?”
Saif tugged her gently into the elevator, pressing the button without asking.His touch was light, but decisive—like everything he did.
They shifted toward the back to make room for his bodyguards, who stood silently in front like statues in tailored suits.Jemma’s shoulders tensed.She remembered this—the quiet dominance, the men who always stood between Saif and the world.
Memories stirred, some sweet, some raw.She closed her eyes for a heartbeat and sighed, the ache of old emotions pressing in on her ribs.
“We’re going to my home,” Saif said, watching her closely.“I want to introduce you to the housekeeper, as well as four of the potential nannies.”
“Nannies?”she echoed, her voice already tight with suspicion.
“I spoke to an employment agency this morning and…” He hesitated, his jaw shifting before he corrected himself.“Actually, my assistant spoke to them.She arranged for candidates to meet us today.I thought we could interview them together.”
“Interview?”she repeated, her voice rising slightly as she tried to keep up.“Jayla already has a sitter.A good one.”
“She does,” he agreed with a nod.“But the woman in your building also watches half the neighborhood.And I doubt she’s going to commute across Philadelphia to work in my home.”
Jemma crossed her arms.“You’re assuming a lot.”
Before he could respond, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
They moved as a group across the marble-floored lobby.Saif led effortlessly, as if the world rearranged itself to accommodate his presence.The bodyguards flanked both of them without a word.Jemma followed, feeling strangely out of place.
Outside, his driver stood beside a gleaming black SUV, engine already running.
Of course.Saif never waited.
He didn’t stand in line.He didn’t fumble for keys.He didn’t check the time and hope he wasn’t late.
He moved, and the world moved with him.
Jemma’s jaw clenched.She hated how seamless his life felt.She hated how he made wealth look effortless—while she’d been counting coins at the grocery store and putting off her own dental appointments to keep up with bills.
But then Saif started listing the nanny candidates and their credentials, calmly explaining their child-rearing philosophies: Montessori-inspired learning.Creative play over rigid structure.A balance of mental stimulation and emotional grounding.
And just like that, her irritation faltered.
He wasn’t showing off.He was thinking about Jayla.
Their daughter.
Could she really deny Jayla this kind of life—this kind of care—just because she was scared of what Saif might want in return?
“There are no strings attached, Jemma,” he said, his voice low and steady.His hands remained at his sides.He didn’t touch her.Didn’t try to sway her with charm.
She studied him for a long moment, then exhaled slowly.Without a word, she slid into the back seat of the SUV.
A year ago, she’d thought only the rich and famous rode in limousines.But after dating Saif, she’d learned the truly powerful preferred SUVs.They were less conspicuous, more versatile, and built for performance.
Five minutes later, they pulled into a gated driveway.
No, not a driveway.Aprivate road.
