They were too alike, he thought grimly.Two stubborn, scrappy survivors waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Still...he pressed the elevator button and waited.
Maybe, just maybe, today the other shoe wouldn’t drop.
Chapter 36
Jemma added another slice of ham to both sandwiches.Then another piece of cheese.And then—because cheese was clearly the food of the gods—another slice for good measure.She was already halfway to a culinary masterpiece, so she finished the sandwiches with lettuce, tomato, pickles, and a thick smear of that fancy mustard she couldn’t pronounce but had tasted divine.
She was wearing one of Saif’s oversized dress shirts and a pair of his boxer briefs—soft, ridiculously comfortable, and frankly better than most of her pajamas.No bra.No pants.Just vibes.She fully intended to be naked again soon, anyway.Back in Saif’s bed.Tangled limbs.No clothes required.
Should she marry him?
The question floated through her mind uninvited, but stubborn.There had been no love declarations—just heat, tenderness, and the way he looked at her like shemattered.Like Jayla mattered.Like Jasper mattered.That counted for something.Everything, maybe.
She balanced both towering sandwiches on one plate, but her hunger won out halfway through the foyer.She lifted half of one and took a satisfying bite, her mouth instantly full of salty, cheesy perfection.
That’s when the front door opened.
And in walked...royalty.
Literally.
An older couple.Regal posture.The man looked like an older, slightly more terrifying version of Saif.Two women—both breathtakingly beautiful—and two tall men with serious alpha energy.Two kids trailed in behind them, chattering in polite indoor voices, wearing designer outfits.The whole group looked like a Vogue family spread crossed with a diplomatic summit.
Jemma froze mid-bite.Bread.Cheese.Tomato.Her mouth still full.Plate still in hand.
Andno pants.
Under normal circumstances, Jemma prided herself on being fiercely independent.But right now, standing barefoot in her boyfriend’s underwear and eating a sandwich the size of her head while his very intimidating, very well-dressed family stared at her?
Yeah.This was a cry-for-help moment.
“You must be Jemma Stone,” one of the beautiful women said, stepping forward with a smile that somehow didn’t feel condescending.“We’ve heard so much about you.”
Jemma tried to swallow her bite fast enough to speak, but it lodged halfway down.Her throat betrayed her.She gave a mortified cough and nearly choked on a tomato.
As if things couldn’t get worse, the front door swung open again and in walked her little brother, carrying Jayla.
Jayla, thank goodness, looked perfect—tiny pink hat, fluffy bunny booties, all dimples and sunshine.
Jasper, however, examined Jemma’s outfit instantly.He gave her one slow, obvious look and, still holding Jayla’s carrier, smirked.
“Nice boxers,” he said.
Jemma closed her eyes.Maybe if she stood still enough, the floor would open and swallow her whole.
It didn’t.
Instead, six heads turned to look at the bottom hem of her shirt and the slight peek of Saif’s boxers beneath it.
Had she thought her humiliation was complete?
Oh no.Karma wasn’t done with her yet.
Because right then, Saif walked into the room, reading from a paper as he spoke aloud:
“I’m ordering some handcuffs so I can pin you to the—”
