Chapter 6
CARI
My gut churns. Bats, not butterflies, dance inside my stomach.
Why is this so difficult?
It’s Monday morning, and I’m back at work, my fingers trembling as they hover over the smooth white envelope. Inside is my resignation letter, the one I finally wrote last night. After everything that’s happened, I have to hand it in. I have to be done with this.
I should be furious, not nervous. After missing the concert, I should be storming in there.
Technically, this wasn’t Jett’s fault. I can’t blame Brooke. She didn’t hold me to ransom. I feel for her, and I see now that not only do I have an unhealthy attachment to her father, I also have one to Brooke.
But I’m only human, and I’d have to be a monster to not feel for that child. The truth is, I let my best friend down. I hate that I hurt Eliana and missed this concert that we’d been waiting fourteen months to see. If I’m not careful, I won’t have a best friend at all. And then I’ll truly be alone.
My fingers trace the edge of the envelope like it’s a lifeline. And then I see him, striding into my workspace, wearing yet another one of his dark blue Armani suits that fit him like it was designed by the gods themselves. I know this suit—it’s one of the ten he has in the exact same shade, all of them tailored to perfection. I’ve taken them to the dry cleaners myself more times than I can count. But somehow today, he looks even more devastatingly handsome. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
But today, he stops in front of my desk. This is not how it's supposed to go. He’s supposed to breeze past me, muttering his usual distracted “good morning” without so much as a glance, heading straight into his office like every other day. That’s the plan. I’m supposed to walk into his office, hand him the letter, and walk out with my dignity.
My heart skips. I can’t do this now.
No. No. No.
I slide the letter under my diary, out of sight. My pulse races, betraying me.
He’s too close and I can smell his aftershave again—a scent I recall each night I lie tossing and turning in bed. Spicy and intoxicating, it surrounds me like a spell I can’t shake.
My heart slams against my ribs. I wish I had more control over myself when I’m around this man.
“Thanks again for coming to Brooke’s party. I appreciate it.” His voice is low, smooth, and it catches me off guard.
I glance up, forcing my eyes to meet his. “You already thanked me.”
“I know. Anna’s back now, but you being there really made Brooke’s day.”
His tone is casual again, and the soft-hearted man from the party is gone. The business-minded Knight is back to make my life miserable. I try to keep my voice steady. “I’m glad it did.” I want to talk to him about Brooke, but this isn’t the time.
“How was the concert?” he asks, again surprising me. This man is hardly ever interested in my life outside of the office.
“I missed it.”
“What? How?” A shadow crosses his face, momentary but noticeable. His voice dips. “You told me you could still get there on time.”
“I should have left earlier.” I bite the inside of my cheek. Don’t say it. Don’t tell him you fell asleep on the couch, missed Eliana’s calls, and woke up too late. Don’t tell him how she went with another friend.
He shifts slightly, hand resting on his hip, pulling his blazer aside. His watch glints in the light—expensive, sleek, just like everything else about him. And that aftershave completely fills the space between us, making my heart flutter.
Damn it.
I shouldn’t still be attracted to him. But I am. Not just because of how he looks in a suit, or the way he smells when he walks past my desk.
It’s more than that.
I remember moments—him with Brooke, tender and protective. The way he cradles her when she’s upset. Then there’s the side of him that infuriates me—the temper, the sharpness when things don’t go his way. But somehow, long ago, he did something kind for me, and that memory keeps me tethered to him in ways I don’t want to admit. When Mom passed, it seemed—as crazy as it is for me to admit—as if he filled that void, albeit temporarily, with his arms wrapped around me as my body shook with sadness. He was there for me when I lost the most important person in my life.
That is what imprinted in my mind, more potently, more vividly than ever. I had a tiny crush on him before. Who wouldn’t? You’d have to be made of stone for this man to not have an effect on you.
My earlier crush was manageable. It didn’t mess with my head the way it does since that moment beside my mom’s hospital bed.
Now, it’s like a part of him is attached to me always.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, pulling me back to the present. “But I don’t understand. Why did you miss it?”
His continued persistence to dig deeper starts to annoy me. Irritation bubbles hot under the surface. I’m tempted to snap a short answer. I’ve raised my voice at him before, once or twice, in moments of pure frustration. No one else dares to, but I have. And I’ve gotten away with it because he lets me. He treats me differently, and I don’t know why.
I’m annoyed at myself, and I feel for Eliana and our now-precarious friendship. “I was just tired after the party,” I say, my voice tight. “I should’ve had more energy, but I didn’t.” I need to give him my resignation. My obsession with this man is unhealthy. Brooke’s also becoming attached to me, and I feel more torn than ever.
He looks genuinely disappointed. “I’m really sorry.”
“It wasn't anyone's fault.” But mine. He watches me because I don't even try to hide my anger. The Knights spell trouble and I need to find the strength and walk away. My hand inches toward the envelope hidden beneath my diary.
Just give it to him.
End this now.
But then he throws me completely off guard. “You always take on too much, Cari.” His voice is soft, but it feels like he’s scolding me. Like it's my fault.
But it is my fault I missed the concert.
Still, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Maybe that’s the sort of person I am,” I snap, before composing myself. “I went because Brooke wanted me to come. That's what you said.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn't have told you that. I feel like I put too much on you, and I'm sorry.”
I blink a few times. Did this man get a heart and brain transplant over the weekend?
“You handled everything as brilliantly as you always do. The party was outstanding. Visually, it was a masterpiece. Brooke couldn’t stop talking about it all weekend.”
I’m not used to him heaping praise on me. I’m also not used to losing my temper. I can usually school my expression quite well, but right now I feel like we’ve switched personalities. “I'm glad she loved it.” I'm reminded of why I did this in the first place.
“You took charge because Anna was busy.” He snorts derisively. “You’re my PA, not my nanny, and I would do well to remember that.”
I startle at his words. Did he really just say that? He’s finally voicing the exact thing I’ve been telling myself over and over. I’m his PA, not a babysitter. Not his personal fixer.
“Look,” he sighs, wiping his large hand over his face. “I know how much you were looking forward to the concert. What can I do to make it up to you? Let me at least buy you some more tickets.”
“You can't buy any more tickets,” I scoff. “They were sold out within hours of going on sale over a year ago.” Every time I think of the concert with Eliana and Bianca there, I feel more disgusted with myself.
Jett steps back and peers down at me, looking all smug as a hint of a smile plays on his lips. “I can always get tickets. How many do you need?”
“I don’t need your money or your tickets, Jett.” I want to scream. He doesn’t get the point. These Knights are always about money, but this isn’t about that. It's about my obsession with him, and how it always misfires on me. I hate that he riles me up. That he has such an effect on me. This man is bad for me. Because of him, I make decisions that are detrimental to my well-being. I can’t do this any longer. I won’t.
I'm just so mad at myself.
And I'm still not doing the thing that needs to be done.
Coward.
Chicken.
Weakling.
My hand twitches toward the envelope again. This is it. This is my chance to end it.
Before I can pull it out, Paul Knight strides in. His presence is like a storm, overwhelming the room. Big, booming, larger than life. He doesn’t even acknowledge me. He never does. He’s all business, all the time.
“You’re back.” He locks eyes with Jett. “We need to talk. Now. ”
This man barely calls his sons by name, and they never call him Dad. They call him Father or old man, depending on the situation. I've never heard them talk about him in loving terms. It’s always business with him, because nothing else matters.
“You missed Brooke’s party,” Jett’s voice is tight, his face flushed with barely contained anger. I see the tension in his posture, the way his fists clench at his sides. The way his hand grips the handle of his black leather briefcase.
Paul scratches his nose, dismissive. “I was busy.”
“She’s your granddaughter. Couldn’t you make time to show up?”
He eyes Jett like a hawk, sharp and cold, and looking as if he's about to swoop in for the kill. There’s no warmth in him, no apology, no love.
“I’ll make it up to her. I had things I couldn’t get out of.” He brushes past the conversation.
“You should’ve made an appearance,” Jett snaps, his voice rising.
“I couldn’t.” Jett’s father is already heading back out into the hallway. “I’m sure the kid didn’t even notice I wasn’t there. Come into my office, I need to talk to you about something important.”
Paul disappears, leaving Jett standing there, his jaw tight, frustration radiating off him. With a heavy sigh, he follows his father, still holding his briefcase.
My resignation letter stays hidden, tucked safely away.
For now.