Page 12 of Dex

The elevator ride falls silent after that.

When we step out into the penthouse, the housekeeper greets us and leads us towards the Great Room, a large, expansive open space with windows looking onto Central Park.Despite having been here many times, I find myself still awestruck at the views of the Manhattan skyline.

Before we even round the corner, I hear it already.

Music.

Not just any music.

Live jazz.There’s also dim lighting and the kind of atmosphere that screams wealth and sophistication but I smellmanipulation.

“What the hell?”Matteo says under his breath.

My mouth falls open slightly.“What is this?”I scan the room.No band, thankfully, just music filtering through high-end speakers.But the champagne towers?The waiters in crisp black-and-white suits, serving gourmet hors d’oeuvres and canapés?This signals something else.

“Are we about to stage a hostile takeover or something?”Jett asks dryly.

“Guys, calm down.Maybe Dad just wanted to have a nice evening.”Zach looks hopeful.Stupidly hopeful.I can’t shake the stupid out of this one.He thinks our father has a good bone in his body.

“Nice and Paul Knight don’t sit well in the same sentence,” says Rio, swiping a glass of champagne off one of the server’s trays.

Matteo grabs a couple of canapés like he doesn’t give a shit.Enzo stands with his hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly detached despite the tuxedos our father insisted we wear.“Glad I dressed up,” he says.

I glance at Rio, who looks just as confused as I feel.What the hell is this about?

Then I see him.

The old man.The patriarchal figurehead of Knight Enterprises.And a bane in our lives.

He’s across the room, standing in a small circle of powerful men.The type of people who make decisions that shake markets.

Seeing us walk in, he excuses himself from the group and strolls toward us, his suit impeccable, his expression unreadable.“Glad you could all make it,” he says smoothly.

“This isn’t a Knight family dinner,” I say.

“Excellent observation,” he says, in his usual patronizing tone.“Did you not get the memo?”

“I did, but this…” I gesture around.“You don’t tend to do these types of evenings unless you want something.”

Jett’s gaze sweeps over the room.“I see a lot of heads of industry here.Investors.CEOs.Social elites.Why here and not in some swanky hotel?What are you not telling us?”

Paul smiles.“So many questions.So much suspicion.Why not just enjoy a nice event like this for what it is?”

“And what is it?”Jett asks.“You never host an event unless there’s something in it for you.”

“You never doanythingunless there’s something in it for you,” Rio counters, just as I was about to say the same thing.

“So?”Jett waits for the explanation.He and our father still haven’t thawed from their last battle.Paul had tried to push Jett into an alliance with a Brazilian heiress, and Jett shut him down, hard.But what really pisses the old man off is that Jett is in love with his assistant, and he snubbed the old man and his deal completely.

But tonight isn’t about Jett.

It’s about something else and I’m determined not to leave until I find out what.Our father steps to the front of the room, lifting a champagne flute.He taps the rim of his glass with a silver spoon, and a hush falls.

“My friends,” he begins, his voice rich with authority.“Welcome.I’m delighted to have you all here tonight.Just a small gathering.An informal evening to bring together captains of industry, esteemed investors, and, of course, family.”

Bullshit.

Then he smirks, and I know what’s coming before he even says it.

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