Page 1 of Jett

Chapter 1

CARI

“Cari!” My boss’s voice slices through the air like a whip. I grit my teeth. My fingers pause on the keyboard andthe words on the screen blur as my focus shifts to the storm brewing near me.

His door is ajar and I can’t see him, but I canfeelhim—Jett Knight, my boss and my personal tormentor, is probably hammering away at his keyboard like the Neanderthal he is. I brace myself, knowing what’s coming.

His door flies open and he storms out like a hurricane ready to destroy everything in its path. I prefer the Neanderthal version of him—quietly smashing his keys into submission. But this is worse; Jett Knight is on a rampage.

“I can’t find the Morgan contract.” His voice is low and dangerous. One hand grips his phone, the other motions angrily.

Devilishly handsome and smelling like temptation itself, he strides to my desk, and I brace myself. That Armani suit—the sharp, navy blue one worn with his crisp white shirt and the blue silk tie—that suit means trouble.

Thank goodness there’s a desk between us because the smell of his aftershave—a mix of cedarwood and something dark and spicy—hits me and makes my pulse race. That scent, combined with the heat rolling off his broad chest, is intoxicating.

At thirty-three years old, this man is older than me by almost a decade. There’s something about an older man, about his commanding air, about the power he wields, that turns my insides to mush. That’s why it’s dangerous for me to even be within sniffing distance of him when he’s in this kind of mood. Because I’m scared I’ll give my feelings away.

“Find it.”His cold blue eyes lock on me, and if looks could kill, I’d already be in the morgue.

“Okaaaay.” I hesitate to get up, hating that he’s pulling me away from my work, barking orders at me while he’s on the phone with someone else. All he has to do is look through his filing cabinet and he’ll find it. But patience isn’t his strong suit, and he can be an ogre a lot of the time.

Yet he has a gentler side, the caring side that comes out when his little girl is around. Then he turns into a big teddy bear. Can’t do enough for her. I see the pain in his eyes when he looks at her sometimes, like she reminds him of his loss. And then there’s the fact that he’s also extended his kindness to me in many ways. Especially during my mother’s illness. There were many moments where I got to see the tender Jett, now that I look back on that darkest time of my life.

“Speak to you later, Dex. There’s a shitstorm brewing over here,”he says to his brother before sliding his cell phone into his pocket.

His jaw tightens as he glares at me. “I need itnow, Cari. Not next year.” His words drip with sarcasm, and I should know better. I should have dropped everything and jumped to attention, like he expects me to, like I used to. Though lately, I can’t do it anymore. Something about the way he stands there, all tension and power, gets under my skin now where before I used to marvel at his commanding presence and his air of authority.

I’m sick and tired of being treated like this by him. Especially when I see him with his girlfriends, or when I have to pick up trinkets or sexy lingerie from a store for him to give to them. I am so sick of this. Pining for him when I should know better.

“Bear with me, Jett. I’m only human. I can’t multi-task like a computer.” I force myself to stand, pressing my palms into the desk as I rise and take a few deep breaths to ground myself. I walk toward his office. “It’s in the folder labeled—”

“I don’t care where it is,” he snaps, cutting me off. “Just get it.” I whip my head in his direction, startled by his viciousness even though I should be used to it.

“Someone’s in a very bad mood this morning,” I say, loud enough for him to hear before I storm out of my office and to the filing cabinets in his, putting distance between myself and this gorgeous, sexy, commanding monster. Yes, I have an office. All to myself. Though I don’t have an actual room to myself where I can shut the door if I need peace and privacy. It’s more an open plan space off a hallway, but it’s enough. ?

Unfortunately, Jett’s office is only accessible through mine. But he’s usually away on business or in meetings around the building where his brothers and father have their offices.

My eyes almost bulged out of my head when I came here for an interview three years ago. I’m a personal assistant to one of the three legitimate sons of Paul Knight, the billionaire patriarchal head of Knight Enterprises. He is a man I try to avoid at all costs. The head of a sprawling, diversified, global conglomerate with stakes in multiple industries, and he doesn’t have an ounce of warmth in him. He’s driven by the desire to make more money—even when he’s got more than enough and could solve all the world’s problems with his fortune.

Jett follows me in, and starts pacing around his office as he takes another call. I wonder who it is this time. From what I can make out, it’s not Alicia, or one of his brothers. Or the Italian Knights, who are the other three sons Paul Knight had with a mistress. I can’t remember which of the assistants coined that term, but it has stuck.

“It’s probably where it always is, if you’d bothered to look properly,” I mutter under my breath as I rifle through the filing cabinet. I find and pull out the file. It was there all along. Filed under M. Any idiot could have found it.

I place it on his desk.

“I need to go, I have a meeting. We can pick this up later.” He hangs up and slams the phone on his desk. “A meeting with my father. The last thing I fucking need,” he groans.

The mention of his father sends a shiver through me. Paul Knight is a force to be reckoned with and he rules with an iron fist. Every time he calls a meeting, Jett becomes even more unbearable than usual. His father has that effect on him—on all his sons, really. Though Dex and Zach appear to be relatively calmer and nicer than their older counterpart.

“It was exactly where it was supposed to be.” I can’t help myself, and I immediately regret my words. This is not the time to push buttons. Not when Paul Knight is breathing down Jett’s neck.

“Easy for you to find, then.” Jett barely looks at me, let alone thanks me, as he sits down in his executive chair. But now his gaze flicks over to me, the intensity in his bright blue eyes taking in my appearance for a second longer than necessary. My heart does a small somersault in my chest and my eyes go to his silk tie. Sometimes in my moments of delusion I dream about undoing it and …

He moves his mouse around on its mat then growls. “I can’t find the fucking link to the meeting. Can you find it?” he snaps, just as his phone goes off again. He stands up, stepping back from his chair and expecting me to sit down and find it instantly.

“I’m sure I can,” I say, tightly. I stare at the screen, unsure of what exactly it is he expects me to do. I slide his coffee cup to the side and out of my way. “Where is it?” I try to keep my voice level. I’m not so sure he wants me to go snooping through his mailbox. Unless he wants me to look in his online calendar.

He hovers over me, his bicep inches from my face as I find myself squeezed between the desk and him. Then he leans in, dipping his head as he reads the computer screen. His breaths stir the loose strand of hair by my ear and I’m tempted to tuck it away, but I’m frozen in this moment, because his scent and body heat blanket me, holding me hostage, making my pulse race. My breathing turns choppy. My senses are overloaded and I become hyperaware of his every move, his every breath. His quiet inhale and exhale, the glint of his oversized black-and-silver watch face. His capable fingers drum on the desk.

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