Page 70 of Jett

It matters.

Shematters, more than I care to admit.

I sat in the bar waiting for her because I couldn’t sleep knowing she wasn’t back at the mansion. I feel responsible for her, especially here where she doesn’t know anyone, and in a country that is new to her. I would have stayed up all night, but I was pleasantly surprised when she came home when she did.

I saw her on the security camera and expected her to go straight to bed. I wasn’t going to confront her or anything, I just needed to know she was safe.

But she came into the bar.

That was her first mistake.

I would dress however you wanted me to.

That was her second. Why would she say that? Cari doesn’t care about my money or my status. I’m just a boring, old boss to her. So why say something like that to me, of all people?

She needs to go.

The most responsible thing for me to do is to send her home—soon—despite what I said to her. I just can’t be around her anymore. It’s getting harder and more dangerous having her here, in this house, under my roof. It’s easy enough to keep my business life separate from Brooke, but this mess with my PA? That’s hard.

If I’m not careful, I’ll do something stupid, like earlier today when I couldn’t help myself. Instead of going home after a hard day of negotiations, I asked the driver to take me to the caves where I knew they’d be. I was desperate to see Brooke, but I also needed to see Cari. And when I did, I couldn’t bring myself to say a word to her.

On the way back, I watched her sneakily, trying to gauge her reaction after the night before. But she didn’t give anything away. Didn’t say a word. She was quiet. She was probably thinking of her next date with that imbecile.

I didn’t speak to her even though I wanted to. I couldn’t, and didn’t trust myself. But just being in the SUV was something. My sweet little girl sitting between us and chattering about her day helped, but the few glances at Cari told me she was miserable. I wanted to say something so much, but the logical part of me knew better.

Then as we left, we both rushed to grab Brooke’s elephant, and my hand brushed hers like a feather. Having her so near me, caught me unexpectedly.

It made my cock jerk to attention.

I had no option but to jump into the shower. Not because I was hot or sweaty from work, but because I had to get her out of my head.

These last few days, I’ve gone over our interactions, wondering if there’s something I’m not seeing. I try to make her words have a deeper meaning rather than facing the truth for what it is—she’s just a girl who’d had too many cocktails that night and was feeling brazen. She was tipsy and having fun. She’s young, carefree, and still grieving her mom.

Send her home.

I should but … I’m not one for playing it safe. I’m a risk-taker and I have a surprise for her. I’m eager to see if she really means what she said.

Chapter 26

CARI

True to form, my boss is back. And he’s ignoring me again, apart from thanking me for putting Brooke’s tattered elephant back together.

After everything he said last night—the dirty, inappropriate things he whispered in my ear at the bar—today, he’s back to being Jett Knight, the untouchable, impenetrable man.

But something's gnawing at me. If last night meant nothing, then why did he show up when we were leaving the Crystal Caves? I can't figure him out, not even when I think I’ve cracked the code.

Our hands brush as we step out of the SUV, and an electric shock jolts through me, sharp and sizzling. My pulse races, and I nearly gasp from the intensity. But Jett? His face is carved from stone. Not a flicker of a reaction.

“After you,” he says, cool and collected after thanking me for sewing Brooke’s elephant back together, like he didn’t spend the night turning my world upside down.

I’m such a mess.

Upstairs, I rush Brooke to get ready for dinner, then retreat to my room, seeking the safety of solitude. I’ve already decided that there’s no way I’m going down for dinner, no matter who summons me.

But when I step inside, a gold-embossed box with a black bow waits on my bed. A card rests on top, written in Jett’s unmistakable handwriting. My stomach lurches, heart pounding against my ribs as if caged.

I freeze. My mind turns to mush. Do I open the envelope first? Or the box? I want to do both, but my hands tremble with indecision. I need eight arms for this moment. I lift the lid and my breath catches as a silky flash of red peeks out.

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