Jemima: We both left the mansion in his car. He held my hand the entire way from the front steps to the passenger side, his fingers locked around mine like he thought I might bolt if he let go. The sun was high and sharp, bouncing off the black paint of his car, and I could feel the heat of his palm seeping into my skin. I hated how warm it felt. I hated that he was even touching me. I reached for the door handle the second we stopped, but he was faster. His other hand shot out, opened it for me, and held it wide like some old-fashioned gentleman in a movie. I frowned hard enough that my forehead ached. Acting nice would not make me like him. Nothing would. I would always hate him, and that was more than for sure. I jammed the door shut again before he could finish then yanked it open myself with more force than necessary. The metal gave a soft protest. “I’m not a kid. I can do it myself and you’re not welcome,” I said, dropping into the seat and slamming the door closed w

(Author's POV)“I’ll sign this document on one condition, Mr. Greyson.”Mr. Anderson’s voice cut through the low restaurant noise like he had been waiting for the perfect moment to drop it. He leaned back in his chair, the file still open in front of him, fingers tapping the edge of the paper as if the words inside were already his.“What condition?” Khalid asked. His tone stayed level, but the look he fixed on the man could have buried him six feet under without a shovel. Every muscle in his jaw locked tight.Anderson’s eyes slid sideways and landed on Jemima again, “Your secretary has to spend one night with me.”The words hung there, heavy and ugly. Jemima didn’t flinch, but Khalid felt the temperature at the table drop ten degrees. Before either of them could answer, a waitress appeared with a tray, set three cups of coffee down in front of them one by one, and disappeared again with a polite nod. The steam curled up between them like nothing had just been said.Khalid raised

He snatched his jacket from the back of the chair, not bothering to put it on, and stalked toward the restroom without another word.The waitress finally approached with the napkins and began blotting the floor. Khalid didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed on Jemima.“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly.She stood up, smoothing the front of her dress like nothing unusual had happened. “I know. I wanted to.”They left the table together. Khalid placed a hand at the small of her back only long enough to guide her past the staring tables, then dropped it the moment they reached the door. Outside, the afternoon air felt cooler than it had when they arrived. His car was still parked where he had left it.Jemima walked ahead of him, heels steady on the pavement. She didn’t speak until they reached the passenger side.“He was disgusting,” she said simply.“Yeah.”She glanced at him sideways, the same sharp look she always wore when she was deciding whether to stay angry or not. “You’

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