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.
A scarf.
Perplexed, I gently lift it out, only to discover that it’s actually a dress. A vibrant, poppy red—something I’d never wear. The fabric is light and luxurious and slips through my fingers. I hold the dress in front of me. It’s low cut, with a high slit at the front. It has a deep plunging V-neckline, with two flimsy bows that tie on each shoulder. I would never wear something like this, because I don’t think I can carry it off. A dress like this isn’t made for someone like me.
Clutching it to my chest, I walk over to the mirror, my heart hammering wildly, like it’s trying to escape. My reflection stares back at me, my face is flushed, and the red dress? It suits my skin tone. I expect it would also reveal a lot of skin.
And it’s from my boss.
I walk back to the bed, excited and terrified as I glance at the card still inside the box. I’m afraid to see what he’s written. Just as I lift the card out, I see that there’s also a matching pair of red stilettoes.
I gasp. Thoughts run riot in my head. This is too much. All of my crazy fantasies are wrapped up inside this box. Heart thumping, I read the card:
You said you would wear anything for me. Prove it.
Meet me in the bar at 11 p.m.
My breath falters, and my pulse quickens. He wants me to wear this ? This flimsy little thing that’ll show every curve, every imperfection. That slit? It’ll expose my entire leg up to my inner thigh. And the neckline? A plunging halter that leaves nothing to the imagination.
I’ll be practically naked in this—with barely more than a few scraps of fabric holding me together.
I press the dress tighter against my chest. It’s so light, I could crumple it into one hand. But I don’t dare. Not this. Not when Jett Knight expects me to wear it.
And I will. I don’t back down from a challenge, especially when it’s from him— the maddening, arrogant king of control.
What does this really mean? These gifts, this invitation? He’s made a leap, a massive assumption. We’ve gone from simmering tension to this bold, brazen dare.
But I feel deliriously happy. Giddy, even. I slip my feet into the stilettos, and they fit perfectly. Like they were made for me.
How does he know my size?
“Can we have dinner now?” Brooke runs into my room. I quickly put the dress behind my back.
“I’m not hungry, sweetie. Do you mind going down to dinner? Your daddy is probably waiting for you.”
Her gaze dips to my shoes. “They’re pretty.”
I smile, because I can’t bring myself to say thank you. Because it feels strange that her father has given me these gifts. Brooke skips away. I have no appetite. My stomach feels queasy, and anxiety claws my insides.
I can’t risk running into Jett—not yet. I need time to think, to process. But how can I? He wants me to wear this, to meet him at eleven, but how will I ever face him in this ?
I go back to the mirror and hold the dress in front of me again. My breath catches as my reflection stares back at me. I’m starting to feel like a different person.
What does he want from me? Why is he doing this?
I know why. Because I said I’d wear anything for him. And now, he’s daring me to.
Left with my spiraling thoughts, I call Eliana—but there’s no answer. I call my aunt, but it goes to voicemail. Brooke will probably spend a few hours with Jett, so I have plenty of time to kill.
I try to read, but I can’t concentrate. My heart races, my nerves fraying with every tick of the clock. It’s almost nine.
I decide to do one of the high intensity cardio workouts Eliana and I sometimes do when we feel guilty that we’re not exercising enough. I pull up a video to follow and for thirty minutes, I lunge, squad, do burpees and move around the room like I’m on steroids. It tires me out, and gets rid of my excess energy.
I shower and get dressed into a T-shirt and shorts. It’s too early to wear the dress, which I’ve hung up on the outside of the closet for now. It stares back at me. Daring me. Teasing me. Scaring me.
What am I doing? This isn’t wise. None of this is. Out here in the sultry Bermuda night, far from the rules of the office and the pressure of the Knight empire, it’s easy to lose myself. There are no checks and balances, no people to rein me in. No Eliana, no clients, no girlfriends of Jett’s to schedule romantic getaways. No beautiful women to be jealous of.
Just me. And him.
I look at the dress again. There’s no way I can wear a bra with it. Unlike the other dress, the one which seems to have gotten Mr. Knight all fired up, this one clearly will show that I’m not wearing a bra. The fabric is so thin it might as well be translucent.
Feeling restless, I pull it off the hanger and take it to the mirror, holding the dress against my body again. I can’t deny it—it looks good against me. The color complements my skin tone and hair, better than I expected.
A secret thrill surges through me. I feel naked. Exposed. But there’s a strange power in that.
My face falls as I remember something about Jett. He’ll be disappointed. He likes women with curves, with cleavage. I’ve noticed that all his women have huge breasts. Whether they’re fake or not, I don’t know, but he’s a breast man.
I can’t compare.
But clearly, he wants me to wear it. For him. Just like I said when I wasn’t thinking straight.
Does this mean he likes me? Or is this just a frustrated man acting out?
This version of Jett—the one in Bermuda—is different. Maybe it’s because he knows I’m leaving. This could be a fling, a last-minute fantasy. There is a constant throbbing between my legs, and it’s been there ever since he put sunscreen on my back.
I’ve fantasized about him during most of my working hours. Maybe I should take the leap and see where this leads.
Brooke comes up late, around ten, and is thankfully ready to crash. I’ve been a bag of nerves waiting for her. I wonder if her father did that on purpose, and kept her there to help bide his time.
After tucking her into bed, I get ready in my room. My heart races as I slip into the dress. The fabric clings to my curves, hugging me in all the right places. I stare at my reflection. The low back, the deep plunge. It fits like a glove, but it exposes so much skin. More than I’m comfortable showing.
Especially to Jett Knight.
This is insane. My heart hammers in my chest, and my nerves are pulled so tight they might snap.
I reason with myself. I’m following his orders, that’s all. I twirl in front of the mirror. The dress is daring, seductive, and shockingly beautiful. I pull my hair up, knowing how much he liked it when I took it down for him last night.
I’m a bundle of nerves, fanning my face with a magazine, trying to calm down. I don’t think I can go through with this. But then I slip into the stilettos, and everything changes. It’s like a magic switch has been flipped and I have an alter ego.
I walk around in my new shoes, which click against the floor with purpose. My hips sway as I walk, my calves are shapely, my entire body transformed by these shoes. I glance at the mirror again.
And love what I see, because I look … amazing . Chewing my lower lip, I feel a shift inside me. I’m not Cari Summers anymore. Not in this dress.
Tonight, I’m someone else. Someone who can look Jett Knight in the eye with confidence, even if it means playing a part.