Chapter 4
JETT
Another goddamn Knight Family dinner.
These dinners happen way too often—about once a month, though sometimes less. That’s still too frequent.
The thought of sitting at that table, surrounded by my brothers and my father’s scrutinizing gaze, makes my skin crawl. Five brothers, one patriarch, and a legacy none of us asked for. Add in the Italian Knights—the “secret family” we didn’t know existed until we were teenagers—and it’s a recipe for torture.
I glance at my watch as I lean on Cari’s desk. “This is everything?” I ask, picking up the stack of information packets she’s put together for the Vanhelm deal. I want to give my father and brothers an update on where we are with it. Now that we’re in the final stretch, it should get wrapped up pretty quickly, but because Christmas will get in the way, it likely won't happen until the new year.
Cari looks up from her laptop, exhaustion etched into her face. Her eyes are red, like she’s been crying. She looks as if she's lost weight. Her skin is pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes. I step closer, feeling concerned.
“Everything?” she asks, distracted.
“C’mon, Cari. I have a lot riding on this. Family dinner night and all that.” I try to joke, to lighten the demand. Tonight is important because my father is waiting for me to mess up and I won't give him the satisfaction. But Cari looks especially fragile, and my jaw flexes as I try to bite back my words. I can’t hurl orders at her the way I usually do.
She sighs, rubbing her temples. “It’s all there. Everything.”
I chuckle, “Let’s hope I make it through the first sentence.”
This is going to be a hard sell, because my father, being the dinosaur that he is, has invested heavily in the fossil fuel industry. Renewable energy is going to be a hard sell, but luckily Dex is on my side. This sector is within his domain, but mergers and acquisitions are my realm of expertise. Although this company and its growth is exciting, this is new territory for me and I have the added complication that my father further hates this deal because I’m opting for collaboration, while my father would have gone for a hostile takeover.
“Let’s hope you do. I’m sending you my thoughts and prayers.”
Cari knows me well. She knows how much I hate these evenings. How much we all do—except for Paul Knight. He thrives on putting us all together and seeing how we do. And he likes hearing about deals and more money.
As if he needs more of either.
“Tough day?” She looks defeated.
She hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. My mom’s been throwing up again. It’s from the last infusion,” she adds quickly, like she needs to justify it.
I sit on the corner of her desk, the usual barriers between us slipping. “How’s she holding up otherwise?”
Cari shrugs, her voice brittle. “Hopeful. She’s trying to stay positive, and so am I.”
I nod, unsure what to say. I’m not exactly great at comforting people, but I want to say something that helps. “Clinical trials are groundbreaking, and we’re so lucky that she’s on one.”
Her lips twitch, almost like a smile. “Yeah. It’s our best chance.”
“Then hold onto that,” I say softly.
She looks at me for a moment, and I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. Then her eyes shift to the neatly stacked thick envelopes on her desk. “Seven copies,” she says.
I push off her desk, straightening my suit. “Thanks for staying late. I owe you one.”
She waves me off, but I make a mental note to give her another bonus. Christmas is coming, and I know how tight things must be for her right now.
The penthouse is quiet when I arrive, the massive space dimly lit and pristine, like always. The housekeeper lets me in, guiding me into the dining room, her polite nod betraying no emotion.
This place—my father’s home—feels like a museum. Cold, elegant, and utterly devoid of warmth.
I pour myself a whiskey and sit on one of the sleek leather couches. It doesn’t take long for the others to arrive.
Dex is the first, striding in with his usual confidence, his tailored suit immaculate. He should wear it more, though he seems to be more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt. But this is a family dinner night and no one turns up casually dressed. He’s smooth, sharp, and magnetic, the kind of guy who makes heads turn when he enters a room.
“Jett,” he says, pouring himself a drink.
“Dex.”
Zach is next, arriving with Rio and Matteo—the older two of the Italian Knights. Seeing them together still feels strange, even now. We didn't know about them until we were into our teens, when a whole new family was introduced to us.
We've never even seen their mother, but they have one. They have something we don't, and I envy them.
Rio is charming and easygoing, always quick with a joke. Matteo? Not so much. He’s tense, his dislike for the rest of us written all over his face. Enzo is oddly missing.
“Nice timing,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
Zach smirks, running a hand through his tousled hair. “What can I say? We bumped into each other downstairs.”
“And Enzo?” I ask.
“Away on business,” Rio says with a shrug.
We pour drinks, and the room fills with the usual tension. It’s like we’re all waiting for my father to make his entrance, the air charged with unspoken grievances and carefully hidden resentments.
When he finally appears, it’s with his usual flair—a commanding presence in a tailored suit, his silver hair perfectly combed, and cold grey eyes. Paul Knight doesn’t walk; he owns every room he steps into.
“Gentlemen.” His voice is smooth and authoritative. “Let’s sit.”
“No time for pleasantries?” Dex asks. “Are we cutting straight to the business part of the evening?”
“Jett wants to give us on update on the merger with Vanhelm. It might take a while.”
My father moves to the dining table, an expansive piece of polished wood that feels more like a boardroom than a place to share a meal. The table is set with precision, every detail flawless. He takes his seat at the head of the table, and I can tell from that comment that he’s already prepared for a fight. He doesn’t like what I’ll be proposing. The fossil fuel man.
We join him at the table.
“These are the latest projections and the most recent contract revisions,” I say, handing out the packets of information that Cari prepared. “Look through them and let me have your thoughts. I see no reason why this won’t go ahead. This is a great deal for us. Vanhelm are highly selective about partnerships and—”
“You should have outright acquired it. You’re showing weakness by merging. We’re a global powerhouse—”
“You and I differ. I choose collaboration over dominance.”
My father snorts.
“Vanhelm Enterprises isn’t just any company. It’s a trailblazer in its niche, with cutting-edge technology, proprietary research and exclusive government contracts. This makes them a highly desirable partner, not a target for acquisit—”
“You’re making a mistake. You look weak,” my father cuts in.
“Give him a chance.” Dex looks pissed.
I take a few calming breaths. "Just because a shark can swallow a dolphin whole doesn’t mean it should. Sometimes, the smart play is to swim alongside it and hunt together." I look him squarely in the eye before continuing. “I am proud that this is going ahead, and I expect it to be completed by early Jan. It would have wrapped up sooner but with Christmas on the way, it’ll be tight.”
My father swirls the whiskey around in his glass. “Renewable energy is a fad.”
I clench my teeth. “So you keep saying. This deal, when finalized, will be highly lucrative for both parties.”
“It’s a vanity project for billionaires wanting to buy good press.”
I resist the urge to loosen my tie. “For some, maybe. I’m committed to this company and this deal and I’m not doing it for your reasons,” I retort.
My father’s brow furrows. “What’s the point in doing anything if you’re not going to maximize profits and minimize risks?”
“We will maximize profits and minimize risks because we’re merging with a company who already does this exceedingly well. We’re tapping into their knowledge and expertise.”
“Absolutely, we are,” Dex pipes up. “Jett has a point. Renewable energy is the way forward.”
“Definitely,” Zach adds. “This is the way things are going, and it’s a good thing. We need to step away from traditional energy industries.”
“I agree.” Rio clasps his hands together, assuming a deep-in-thought business pose. “Focusing on renewables is the way forward. We’re not ditching gas and coal completely yet, we’re just exploring other avenues.”
Matteo is silent. As is my father.
I’m immensely proud of this deal, which I’ve been working on for months. “The deal will go through, barring any last-minute hiccups,” I insist.
“It’s coming up on Christmas,” my father says, dryly. “I wouldn’t get too excited.”
“If it takes longer, so be it. That’s why I have given you the important information.” I nod at the package each one of them has. “Read through it and let me know if you have any questions. I’ll call a meeting next week so we can discuss.”
I notice that everyone has opened their envelopes and are starting to flip through the information packets. Everyone except Paul Knight. He sits there, drinking whiskey like it’s an act of rebellion.
The prick.
“Pierre. Start serving entrees,” he orders.
As the courses begin to arrive, the conversation shifts to the rest of my brothers. My father nods, his sharp eyes flick to the Italian brothers. “And what about the European expansion? Have you made any progress?”
Rio leans back, his expression casual. “We’re exploring opportunities. Nothing concrete yet.”
Matteo scoffs. “Nothing worth pursuing, you mean.”
The tension spikes, but Dex jumps in smoothly. “I’ve heard good things about the luxury hotel market in Switzerland. It’s worth looking into.”
“What do you think, Jett?” my father asks, his gaze piercing. It’s odd that he’s asking me. I did my piece.
I sip my whiskey before answering. “I think diversification is smart, but the risk needs to be calculated. We can’t afford to overextend, especially not with the current market volatility.”
My father nods approvingly, but I can feel Matteo’s glare.
“You’re all so focused on the numbers,” Matteo mutters. “What about the people? The employees? The communities you disrupt with these deals?”
“Since when do you care about that?” Dex retorts, his tone light but cutting.
“I care about not turning into him,” Matteo says, jerking his head toward my father.
The table falls silent, and Matteo’s words hang in the air like the Sword of Damocles. It’s only a matter of time before my father will say something to cut him down.
“This is good,” Zach makes a noise like he’s enjoying the food. It’s not bad, even I can admit that. Trust our baby brother to try to humor our father, but the beef carpaccio with truffle oil, shaved parmesan and microgreens are pretty damn good, as always.
The conversation continues, but the undercurrent of tension remains in the air. By the time dessert is served, I’m counting down the minutes until I can leave.
The Knight family dinners are never just a meal. It’s a game—strategic, calculated, and utterly exhausting.
I sip my whiskey, watching my brothers and father navigate the chessboard of life on which we’re all just mere pieces. There are times when I wish ours was a warm, nurturing, and jovial family—for Brooke's sake, more than anything. But looking around the table, my little girl is safer being kept away from this.
The Knights make Game of Thrones look like a game of musical chairs.