Page 2 of The Darkest Knight

Jett frowns. “Shouldn’t you take that? It’s your mom.”

“I can see that, and I will. Once you leave,” I say tightly.

He hesitates, concern flickering across his face. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” A lie, but one that gets him moving.

“Good to hear.”

I remember something just before he reaches his door.

"I also sent flowers to William Templeton’s wife. She’s in the hospital recovering from an emergency appendectomy."

He turns around, hands still in his pockets. Of course, I notice his wide shoulders again and the way his cuffs are folded up.

Don't ogle his forearms. Don't.

His brow furrows in that familiar way. "His wife? But I don't know her.”

"That may be, but he mentioned that she was recovering from an operation. He told you about it when we were in the meeting," I prompt.

He stares at me blankly. How can this man not remember?

"Right, right." He says as if the lightbulb has gone off in his head. "We're on the verge of signing the deal."

“Yes, you are,” I reply.

Trust him to remember the deal but forget about the people involved. Personal gestures like this? Not on his radar, even indirectly. Money and numbers are what this man focusses on. His father has taught him well, and these Knight men andtheir obsession with their empire proves it. They only value money. I don’t trust Paul Knight, I don't like him, and I keep my distance from him. I pity his personal assistant.

What’s even worse is that I can see Jett turning out like him in a decade or so. Maybe Brooke will cause him to change. My heart melts thinking about that adorable little girl who is the center of Jett's world, and the cutest little four-year-old I know.

Jett scratches his jaw. "Thanks?" He says it like a question, as if he doesn't understand why I sent the flowers.

"It’s a nice thing to do. It shows him you care," I explain, "It shows him that you're a human, and things like that matter.”

“You’re probably right,” he admits. “Thank you for handling it. You’re—” He stops, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re good at what you do, Cari. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as he walks away. I don’t know what he’d do without me either, and that’s the problem.

As I sit back down, my phone buzzes again—a text from Mom.

Don’t call. I’m napping. Stop by on your way home. Aunt Scarlett made tacos.

I exhale, relieved she’s resting, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. Even the thought of my favorite food waiting for me does nothing to relieve the ache.

Jett returns, shrugging into his jacket. “Can you pick something up for Dina?”

I freeze. Dina. His latest girlfriend. “Pick what up?”

“A watch. Cartier. It should be ready.”

My jaw tightens. He really doesn’t listen, does he? “I told you—I’m already working through lunch as it is.”

He stops short, his expression softening. “Right. Sorry.”

My mind is in disarray, still caught up worrying about my mom. Now I stare blankly at my boss.

At my demanding boss.

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