Page 18 of Jett

I brace myself. A storm’s coming.

Sure enough, Jett barrels into view, his expression thunderous. His words come fast, sharp-edged with anger. His face is flushed, jaw clenched tight, and those eyes—hard as steel, flashing with fury. He’s in full hurricane mode, and I know better than to get caught in the middle.

He doesn’t even glance my way, just storms past my desk with his cell phone glued to his ear. From the way he’s talking, I’d bet he’s on the line with Dex. Those two are thick as thieves, always strategizing, always one step ahead of everyone else. But Jett sounds more pissed than usual.

The door to his office slams shut with a force that rattles the glass. I flinch, my fingers tightening around my resignation letter. It feels like it’s burning a hole through the paper.

My plan—my well-thought-out, overdue plan—just crumbled to ash. I should’ve expected this. Jett and his father don’t get along. None of the brothers do with Paul Knight, and for good reason. He’s a manipulative bastard, always pulling strings behind the scenes. I steer clear of him, and thankfully my job doesn’t overlap with anything that involves Paul directly.

Still, this—whatever just happened between Jett and his father—has left him rattled. And Jett? He doesn’t rattle easily.

I should just do it. Right now.

I look down at the letter in my hands. Maybe this is the perfect time. He seems off balance. With his defenses down, he might actually hear me. He might not fight me on it, not like he would on any other day.

But then doubt creeps in, and I hesitate. My pulse quickens, each beat telling me to just get it over with.

I inhale sharply, grab a pile of letters he needs to sign, and slip my resignation on top of the stack. My heart pounds as I march toward his office with a steely determination.

This is it. I’m going to hand it in. I walk into Jett’s office and stand at his desk, just like I always do, but my heart hammers against my chest, erratic and loud.

This is my moment. He’s not on the phone anymore, and it’s finally quiet. I open my mouth, but the words refuse to come. My throat is so dry it feels like sandpaper. All I can hear is the boom of my heartbeat, growing louder, drowning out every thought.

“I can’t sign anything right now,” Jett growls, his voice low and rough, the kind that sends shivers down my spine. It’s like a storm brewing, intense and swift, the way it always is when he’s angry. He gets up and shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it onto the back of his chair, and I freeze, my mind going fuzzy. The way his broad shoulders move, the way his crisp white shirt stretches across his chest—it’s ridiculous how I can’t think straight when he looks like that. And the slight dusting of stubble on his jaw just makes it worse.

“Then I’ll just leave them here, but there’s something—”

“Do something for me.” He interrupts me as usual, and now he’ll give me an order he expects me to follow without question.

Sitting back in his chair, he tilts his head slightly against the headrest. Something shifts in his expression. His eyes—a darker blue now—glint with mischief. “I’ve ordered something for Alicia. From Cartier. I need you to go pick it up.”

Cartier, and Tiffany & Co. That’s where he buys gifts for his girlfriends. I’ve been to these places so many times, collecting his extravagant gifts for his parade of girlfriends. And now it’s Alicia’s turn. Of course, it is. “Not Tiffany this time?” I retort.

“I’d be asking you to go to Tiffany if that was the case.”

“That is true.” How I manage to keep my voice level is a miracle.

“Diamond and sapphire earrings,” he says, as if he knows I was wondering. But I wasn’t. I don’t ask anymore. I never need to. It’s always something sparkly, expensive. Just another trinket to keep them happy.

“Could you go now?” He glances at his watch. “Oh, and book us a dinner reservation at Lafont & Moreau for around seven.”

The request feels like a slap, and the ache in my chest deepens. Dinner at Lafont & Moreau. Jewelry from Cartier. Alicia gets the diamonds and the fancy dinners, and I get the errands.

She no longer sounds like just another girlfriend. She's getting more from him than any of the others ever did. My mind spins, doing the math. He’s bought her the most. Spent the most time with her. This is serious. He’s serious.

He’s in love with her.

And she referred to herself as the wicked stepmother.

The realization is a punch to the gut. My stomach churns and I want to disappear, but I stand rooted to the spot, letting the feeling drench me. I have had enough.

“I'm about to go to lunch, Jett. I have plans to meet my friend.” I don't, but he doesn't know that.

He sits up taller, clearly not expecting this reply. I've done his bidding for too long now, thinking I was weak and pathetic, believing I had no backbone. I follow orders and run his life, then pretend it doesn’t hurt. But it does.

No more.

I'm out of fucks to give. I clutch the papers tightly in my hand.

---