Page 71 of Jett

A scarf.

Perplexed, I gently lift it out, only to discover that it’s actually a dress. A vibrant, poppy red—something I’dneverwear. The fabric is light and luxurious and slips through my fingers. I hold the dress in front of me. It’s low cut, with a high slit at the front. It has a deep plunging V-neckline, with two flimsy bows that tie on each shoulder. I wouldneverwear something like this, because I don’t think I can carry it off. A dress like this isn’t made for someone like me.

Clutching it to my chest, I walk over to the mirror, my heart hammering wildly, like it’s trying to escape. My reflection stares back at me, my face is flushed, and the red dress? It suits my skin tone. I expect it would also reveal a lot of skin.

And it’s frommy boss.

I walk back to the bed, excited and terrified as I glance at the card still inside the box. I’m afraid to see what he’s written. Just as I lift the card out, I see that there’s also a matching pair of red stilettoes.

I gasp. Thoughts run riot in my head. This is too much. All of my crazy fantasies are wrapped up inside this box. Heart thumping, I read the card:

You said you would wear anything for me. Prove it.

Meet me in the bar at 11 p.m.

My breath falters, and my pulse quickens. He wants me to wearthis? This flimsy little thing that’ll show every curve, every imperfection. That slit? It’ll expose my entire leg up to my inner thigh. And the neckline? A plunging halter that leaves nothing to the imagination.

I’ll be practically naked in this—with barely more than a few scraps of fabric holding me together.

I press the dress tighter against my chest. It’s so light, I could crumple it into one hand. But I don’t dare. Not this. Not when Jett Knight expects me to wear it.

And I will. I don’t back down from a challenge, especially when it’s from him—the maddening, arrogant king of control.

What does this really mean? These gifts, this invitation? He’s made a leap, a massive assumption. We’ve gone from simmering tension to this bold, brazen dare.

But I feel deliriously happy. Giddy, even. I slip my feet into the stilettos, and they fit perfectly. Like they were made for me.

How does he know my size?

“Can we have dinner now?” Brooke runs into my room. I quickly put the dress behind my back.

“I’m not hungry, sweetie. Do you mind going down to dinner? Your daddy is probably waiting for you.”

Her gaze dips to my shoes. “They’re pretty.”

I smile, because I can’t bring myself to say thank you. Because it feels strange that her father has given me these gifts. Brooke skips away. I have no appetite. My stomach feels queasy, and anxiety claws my insides.

I can’t risk running into Jett—not yet. I need time to think, to process. But how can I? He wants me to wear this, to meet him at eleven, but how will I ever face him inthis?

I go back to the mirror and hold the dress in front of me again. My breath catches as my reflection stares back at me. I’m starting to feel like a different person.

What does he want from me? Why is he doing this?

I know why. Because I said I’d wear anything for him. And now, he’s daring me to.

Left with my spiraling thoughts, I call Eliana—but there’s no answer. I call my aunt, but it goes to voicemail. Brooke will probably spend a few hours with Jett, so I have plenty of time to kill.

I try to read, but I can’t concentrate. My heart races, my nerves fraying with every tick of the clock. It’s almost nine.

I decide to do one of the high intensity cardio workouts Eliana and I sometimes do when we feel guilty that we’re not exercising enough. I pull up a video to follow and for thirty minutes, I lunge, squad, do burpees and move around the room like I’m on steroids. It tires me out, and gets rid of my excess energy.

I shower and get dressed into a T-shirt and shorts. It’s too early to wear the dress, which I’ve hung up on the outside of the closet for now. It stares back at me. Daring me. Teasing me. Scaring me.

What am I doing? This isn’t wise. None of this is. Out here in the sultry Bermuda night, far from the rules of the office and the pressure of the Knight empire, it’s easy to lose myself. There are no checks and balances, no people to rein me in. No Eliana, no clients, no girlfriends of Jett’s to schedule romantic getaways. No beautiful women to be jealous of.

Just me. And him.

I look at the dress again. There’s no way I can wear a bra with it. Unlike the other dress, the one which seems to have gotten Mr. Knight all fired up, this one clearly will show that I’m not wearing a bra. The fabric is so thin it might as well be translucent.

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