She kept her eyes on her plate.“Just that we might need to work a few other things out.”
A sharp clatter echoed as Saif stood abruptly.Without a word, he kissed Jayla’s cheek, then passed her to Raj, who accepted her with a tenderness that made Jemma blink.
“We’ll be back in a moment,” Saif announced.
He walked around the table with deliberate calm and held out a hand to Jemma.The men nodded with approval.Raj held Jayla like she was spun glass, eyes steady on his son.
“Where are we going?”Jemma asked, turning toward Jasper, hoping for backup.
But Helen—traitor—rested a graceful hand on Jasper’s forearm, holding him back.
“It will be fine,” she murmured.
Tiro nodded, adding a wink.
Jemma opened her mouth to protest—too late.
Saif scooped her up with ridiculous ease and tossed her over his shoulder.
“We’ll have this resolved in a moment,” he told the group as Jemma let out a frustrated squeak.
The dining room doors swung closed behind them.
Saif carried her down the hallway like she weighed nothing.When he reached the library, he pushed the double doors open with his hip and stepped inside, setting her on her feet.
She exhaled loudly, shoving hair out of her face as she took in the room.
And promptly forgot to be mad.
Ten-foot ceilings.Wall-to-wall bookcases.Rich wood paneling and golden sconces casting a warm glow across shelves that held everything from battered paperbacks to leather-bound tomes.
But Saif didn’t give her a chance to examine the books.He swept her up again and set her down firmly on what she assumed was a desk.
“What’s this about not accepting my proposal?”he demanded, sliding his hands beneath her knees and tilting her back.
“Wha… what are you doing?”she asked, grabbing at his shoulders to steady herself.
“Why won’t you marry me?”he repeated, shifting her back a little more, deliberately keeping her off balance.
“Because—” she gasped as he stepped between her knees.Her slacks offered little defense against the heat of him.
“That’s not a very coherent reason,” he said, his voice low and challenging.
She let out a hiss when he moved against her.“I’m not rejecting you, Saif,” she said, but it lacked conviction—especially when she moaned at the feel of his lips trailing along her neck.
“I feel rejected,” he murmured, nipping her earlobe.
She tried to laugh, but it melted into a shaky sound that was more moan than chuckle.
“This is cheating,” she whispered.
“I don’t care.”He lifted his head, his dark eyes locking with hers.“I want you as my wife.I want to know you can’t just walk away from this—whatever we are, whatever we’ve built.”
Jemma swallowed hard.
Her mind offered up the memory like it always did when things got too real—her mother sobbing into the couch cushions, thinking no one could hear.The mailbox hesitations.The overdue notices.The quiet kind of dread that settled into a home and never left.
“You’re thinking about your father, aren’t you?”
