Page 33 of Jett

“She’s fine, sweetie.” He smiles at his daughter.

“You look sick,” Brooke says, stroking my arm, completely unaware of the panic I’m trying to cover.

I breathe in slowly, then out slowly. “I’m … okay.” My voice is shaky and unconvincing.

“She’s going to be fine,” Jett assures her. “The report, Cari. Think. Did you bring it? Because I need it to present to the CEO tomorrow.”

My mind rushes back to the office, and now I’m worried. I never forget anything, and he’s never had to ask me something like this. He knows I’m organized, that whatever he asks, I do. “I did. I’m pretty sure I did.”

“And the MacPherson binder?”

I try to recall the list of things Jett asked for. I nod. “I’m pretty sure I—”

“The Hogarth files?”

He’s bombarding me with so many questions and I try to think, worried that I might have forgotten something. No, I packed everything he wanted. “I did. I got everything.”

His sleeves are rolled up, and his forearms flex slightly. Hot damn.

Is he stroking the back of my hand?

I glance down, and find that he is.

The seatbelt sign turns green, and I hear a message saying we can unfasten our seatbelts. “Look Daddy, clouds!” Brooke points out of her window.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jett gets up off the floor, moving his hand away from mine. “Relax,” he says, pinning me with his gaze. “We’re up in the air now. It’s going to be okay.”

My jaw drops and I watch as he brushes his hand over his trousers, removing the dust, not that I can see any. His cologne wafts over me again and I watch, dumbfounded, as he ruffles Brooke’s hair and tells her he needs to get back to his work.

I watch him walk away, so tall and commanding to his seat a few rows in front of us. Just before he sits down, he turns and glances at me. My heart leapfrogs in my chest and I look down at my lap, hating that he caught me staring at him again. I mentally go through the list he gave me yesterday and try to remember if I got everything he needed.

What a thing to ask me, now of all times.

JETT

Dex needed the family jet, so here we are, flying first class. I hate flying commercial. I hate being cramped, surrounded by strangers. It’s suffocating. I’ve made sure the seat next to me is empty—paid for it, in fact—because that’s the only way I can tolerate this. Still, it’s a last resort.

With my brother off handling business in London, I had no other choice.

But, in hindsight, it’s not entirely a bad thing. Cari’s not in her usual office attire. She looks different—more relaxed, less buttoned up. Like she did at Brooke’s party. Something about seeing her like this, out of the usual professional setting, catches me off guard.

I glanced over to check that she and Brooke were okay during takeoff, but I saw Cari, her face pale, her eyes closed, gripping the arm rest as if her life depended on it. She has a fear of flying. I didn’t think she had a fear of anything.

I rushed to her side instantly and tried my best to distract her. With Cari, I know that means talking about work. Putting her on alert that she might have forgotten something important.

It seemed successful.

So far the trip is going smoothly. My little cherub has been on cloud nine ever since I told her Cari was coming. She hasn’t even asked about Anna, which worries me. ?Anna took care of Brooke for over a year, and yet my daughter doesn’t seem to miss her. Maybe that’s on me. I’ve had a different nanny for Brooke every year since Sophia passed. Three years, three different people. That can’t be normal.

My exes used to tell me I’m too demanding. Too demeaning. An arrogant, patronizing asshole to the people who work for me. Maybe there’s some truth in that, but I can’t focus on it now. Every nanny I’ve hired eventually gets fed up and leaves for an easier life. I’ll deal with hiring someone new once we’re back. I’ll have to choose more carefully this time. I’ll ask Cari to handle the interviews.

I look over at Cari and Brooke again. Brooke wiggles out of her seat to explore the plane, passing me and planting a kiss on my cheek as Cari dutifully follows her, like she always does—reliable, steady.

I’m halfway through my report when Brooke taps my arm. “Daddy, the washrooms are fun!” she exclaims, her little face glowing with excitement.

I blink at her, momentarily thrown by the joy radiating off her. “Fun?” I ask, trying to shift my attention to her.

“Yeah! The doors are bendy!” Her eyes are wide with wonder, as if this new discovery is the most exciting thing in the world.

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