Page 131 of Jett

“Cari,” I interrupt, stepping closer. “I don’t regret it.”

She looks up at me, her lips parting like she wants to say something. Instead, she nods, her expression softening. “Neither do I.”

But before we can say more, my phone buzzes on the desk. This. This is my life. A constant interruption of people and phone calls. Nothing that’s important. I sigh, and she steps back, smoothing her hair like nothing happened.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she says, her voice perfectly professional, but her eyes betray her.

“I always do.” I watch her leave, already feeling the ache of her absence.

Chapter 48

CARI

I still feel the burn of Jett’s kiss, the way it left my legs shaky, my mind buzzing, and my heart entirely his. The taste of him, the way he whispered my name against my lips—it’s all I can think about.

And yet, here I am, trying to focus on work, pretending my world hasn’t just shifted on its axis.

Then an email lands in my inbox. Paul Knight has summoned me to his office. The air freezes in my lungs. It’s not a request—it’s a command. And the timing isn’t lost on me. Jett is out at a two-hour lunch meeting across Manhattan. Why does his father want to talk to me? I don't like this. I don't like this because his father waited for Jett to disappear before asking to see me.

I smooth my skirt and square my shoulders as I walk down the hallway, and my steps are steady. Paul Knight may be the devil incarnate, but I’ve dealt with worse. I knock.

“Come in,” comes his clipped response.

The moment I enter, his eyes land on me, cold and calculating. He doesn’t like me—no surprise there. The feeling is mutual. But what really twists my gut is the way he treats his son. All of them, really, but it’s Jett I care about.

“You wanted to see me?” I stop just shy of his desk. My hands clasp tightly in front of me, a shield I don’t want him to see.

“Sit down.” I take the chair opposite him, my spine straight, chin lifted. “I hear you’re leaving.”

“Yes.” I sit down and fold my hands on my lap.

“Any reason why?”

This is none of his business. But this man has seen things, sensed things, and probably knows things, which is why he wants to talk to me one on one. I must keep my cool and not show him how much his questions rattle me. “It’s just time for me to move on.”

“And yet you went to Bermuda with my son.”

“I went to take care of your granddaughter.”

His head tilts, his gaze narrowing before he leans back in his chair as though he owns not just this moment but my very future. “You need to listen to me. It's in your best interests to take my information—my advice, if you will—and heed it well.”

“Okay,” I reply slowly as my discomfort grows. I glance at the closed door, but it’s a futile attempt because Jett isn’t even in the building.

“Men like us—men like my sons—don’t marry your type.” His words are like a slap to my face, but miraculously, I manage to hold steady, even as the insult cuts deep. “I’ve spent years building this empire,” he continues. “Wealth like ours needs to be preserved and protected. It must be passed down. We are who we are,wherewe are, because of the deals we’ve done and the relationships we’ve built. Sometimes, that requires strategic alliances, not … distractions.”

Distraction. Is that what he thinks I am to Jett?

“I expect any parent would want the best for their children,” I say, my voice clipped.

He smiles—a cold, cruel smile. “Sweetheart, the best isn’t you. Who knows what stock you come from?”

I can’t believe my ears. I clench my hands in my lap, forcing my face to remain neutral. I won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“It’s unbelievable that men like you exist. Men who can say such cruel words and smile so freely.”

“Men like medoexist, and we run the world.” Another cold, cruel smile, one that makes me shiver with fear. I force myself to sit taller, to keep my head upright. My heart aches for Jett and the awful time he must have had growing up under the eye of this monster. “My son is destined for greater things,” Paul continues, unabashed. “Did he mention the proposal?” My composure slips, and he sees it. I can’t utter a word. “I didn’t think so.” He sits back in his chair and clasps his hands on the table. “Before he went to Bermuda, there was an offer on the table—an arrangement with a Brazilian heiress. Someone suitable. Someone who would understand his world.”

The words hit like a bucket of ice water.Jett knew?

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