Excerpt from Jett （Knight Empire, Book 1）
CARI
“Cari!” My boss’s voice slices through the air like a whip. I grit my teeth. My fingers pause on the keyboard andthe words on the screen blur as my focus shifts to the storm brewing near me.
His door is ajar and I can’t see him, but I can feel him—Jett Knight, my boss and my personal tormentor, is probably hammering away at his keyboard like the Neanderthal he is. I brace myself, knowing what’s coming.
His door flies open and he storms out like a hurricane ready to destroy everything in its path. I prefer the Neanderthal version of him—quietly smashing his keys into submission. But this is worse; Jett Knight is on a rampage.
“I can’t find the Morgan contract.” His voice is low and dangerous. One hand grips his phone, the other motions angrily.
Devilishly handsome and smelling like temptation itself, he strides to my desk, and I brace myself. That Armani suit—the sharp, navy blue one worn with his crisp white shirt and the blue silk tie—that suit means trouble.
Thank goodness there’s a desk between us because the smell of his aftershave—a mix of cedarwood and something dark and spicy—hits me and makes my pulse race. That scent, combined with the heat rolling off his broad chest, is intoxicating.
At thirty-three years old, this man is older than me by almost a decade. There’s something about an older man, about his commanding air, about the power he wields, that turns my insides to mush. That’s why it’s dangerous for me to even be within sniffing distance of him when he’s in this kind of mood. Because I’m scared I’ll give my feelings away.
“Find it.”His cold blue eyes lock on me, and if looks could kill, I’d already be in the morgue.
“Okaaaay.” I hesitate to get up, hating that he’s pulling me away from my work, barking orders at me while he’s on the phone with someone else. All he has to do is look through his filing cabinet and he’ll find it. But patience isn’t his strong suit, and he can be an ogre a lot of the time.
Yet he has a gentler side, the caring side that comes out when his little girl is around. Then he turns into a big teddy bear. Can’t do enough for her. I see the pain in his eyes when he looks at her sometimes, like she reminds him of his loss. And then there’s the fact that he’s also extended his kindness to me in many ways. Especially during my mother’s illness. There were many moments where I got to see the tender Jett, now that I look back on that darkest time of my life.
“Speak to you later, Dex. There’s a shitstorm brewing over here,”he says to his brother before sliding his cell phone into his pocket.
His jaw tightens as he glares at me. “I need it now , Cari. Not next year.” His words drip with sarcasm, and I should know better. I should have dropped everything and jumped to attention, like he expects me to, like I used to. Though lately, I can’t do it anymore. Something about the way he stands there, all tension and power, gets under my skin now where before I used to marvel at his commanding presence and his air of authority.
I’m sick and tired of being treated like this by him. Especially when I see him with his girlfriends, or when I have to pick up trinkets or sexy lingerie from a store for him to give to them. I am so sick of this. Pining for him when I should know better.
“Bear with me, Jett. I’m only human. I can’t multi-task like a computer.” I force myself to stand, pressing my palms into the desk as I rise and take a few deep breaths to ground myself. I walk toward his office. “It’s in the folder labeled—”
“I don’t care where it is,” he snaps, cutting me off. “Just get it.” I whip my head in his direction, startled by his viciousness even though I should be used to it.
“Someone’s in a very bad mood this morning,” I say, loud enough for him to hear before I storm out of my office and to the filing cabinets in his, putting distance between myself and this gorgeous, sexy, commanding monster. Yes, I have an office. All to myself. Though I don’t have an actual room to myself where I can shut the door if I need peace and privacy. It’s more an open plan space off a hallway, but it’s enough.
Unfortunately, Jett’s office is only accessible through mine. But he’s usually away on business or in meetings around the building where his brothers and father have their offices.
My eyes almost bulged out of my head when I came here for an interview three years ago. I’m a personal assistant to one of the three legitimate sons of Paul Knight, the billionaire patriarchal head of Knight Enterprises. He is a man I try to avoid at all costs. The head of a sprawling, diversified, global conglomerate with stakes in multiple industries, and he doesn’t have an ounce of warmth in him. He’s driven by the desire to make more money—even when he’s got more than enough and could solve all the world’s problems with his fortune.
Jett follows me in, and starts pacing around his office as he takes another call. I wonder who it is this time. From what I can hear make out, it’s not Alicia, or one of his brothers. Or the Italian Knights, who are the other three sons Paul Knight had with a mistress. I can’t remember which of the assistants coined that term, but it has stuck.
“It’s probably where it always is, if you’d bothered to look properly,” I mutter under my breath as I rifle through the filing cabinet. I find and pull out the file. It was there all along. Filed under M. Any idiot could have found it.
I place it on his desk.
“I need to go, I have a meeting. We can pick this up later.” He hangs up and slams the phone on his desk. “A meeting with my father. The last thing I fucking need,” he groans.
The mention of his father sends a shiver through me. Paul Knight is a force to be reckoned with and he rules with an iron fist. Every time he calls a meeting, Jett becomes even more unbearable than usual. His father has that effect on him—on all his sons, really. Though Dex and Zach appear to be relatively calmer and nicer than their older counterpart.
“It was exactly where it was supposed to be.” I can’t help myself, and I immediately regret my words. This is not the time to push buttons. Not when Paul Knight is breathing down Jett’s neck.
“Easy for you to find, then.” Jett barely looks at me, let alone thanks me, as he sits down in his executive chair. But now his gaze flicks over to me, the intensity in his bright blue eyes taking in my appearance for a second longer than necessary. My heart does a small somersault in my chest and my eyes go to his silk tie. Sometimes in my moments of delusion I dream about undoing it and …
He moves his mouse around on its mat then growls. “I can’t find the fucking link to the meeting. Can you find it?” he snaps, just as his phone goes off again. He stands up, stepping back from his chair and expecting me to sit down and find it instantly.
“I’m sure I can,” I say, tightly. I stare at the screen, unsure of what exactly it is he expects me to do. I slide his coffee cup to the side and out of my way. “Where is it?” I try to keep my voice level. I’m not so sure he wants me to go snooping through his mailbox. Unless he wants me to look in his online calendar.
He hovers over me, his bicep inches from my face as I find myself squeezed between the desk and him. Then he leans in, dipping his head as he reads the computer screen. His breaths stir the loose strand of hair by my ear and I’m tempted to tuck it away, but I’m frozen in this moment, because his scent and body heat blanket me, holding me hostage, making my pulse race. My breathing turns choppy. My senses are overloaded and I become hyperaware of his every move, his every breath. His quiet inhale and exhale, the glint of his oversized black-and-silver watch face. His capable fingers drum on the desk.
“It’s in this inbox, somewhere.” He’s clearly irritated, and I’m not surprised that he hasn’t yet found it.
His body brushes against mine as he shifts back slightly, our hands touching for the briefest of seconds. Every nerve in my body lights up like a firework. This man is all hard muscle, and my skin tingles where we touched. I’m not sure if he even noticed, but I’m too stunned to move. It reminds me of that time he comforted me, when he wrapped his arms around me and held me in my darkest moment.
Eliana would kill me if I told her about this. My best friend and roommate has been telling me to quit for over a year. She knows the full extent of my Jett-induced condition. I will leave. I have to. For my sanity, if nothing else. It just hasn’t happened yet. I’ve been grieving, unable to step out of my comfort zone and do something new. Take the next step. Up until a few months ago, it was sheer torture just to get out of bed and get myself to work.
I miss my mom so much, but I am slightly better now. I can make it to the office and back, sometimes without thinking about her during my workday. She still haunts me at night, and there are mornings when I wake up and think she’s still here.
It was really for my mom that I stayed on here. I needed this job, and Jett was really good about letting me have time off when I needed to be with her. He has his good moments, and he’s really not so bad.
Despite his arrogance, despite how infuriating he can be, I’ve seen glimpses of his heart. He adores his daughter, Brooke, and seeing him with her was enough to keep me tethered here, even when everything in me screamed to run.
“I’ve found it,” I whisper, pointing to the screen as Jett continues his conversation with his brother. I glance up at him as he bends down, his gaze flicks ever-so-quickly to my lips.
Oh my goodness. He really did that. It's too much, him being so close, looking at my lips. My heart leaps inside my ribcage and I spring up out of his chair, knocking the coffee cup over in my haste.
My insides deflate in dismay just as quickly as the dark liquid bleeds across the desk, seeping into the edges of his diary. “Shit.”
“Cari!” He lets out a frustrated cry, but there’s something else there, something weary. “What the hell?” He looks down at the spill, his expression blank, but I hear the disappointment in his voice loud and clear.
I can be such a klutz sometimes.
“I’m sorry.” I scramble to fix the mess, my fingers trembling as I burn with humiliation. I always turn into a quivering wreck in front of him. He's so mature, and so composed. I can't do anything right in his eyes. If only I were as cool and as glacial as Alicia. Heat tinges my cheeks like a pubescent teen and I'm horrified by what I’ve done. In my panic, I grab the edge of my dress and use it to frantically mop up the coffee. Brilliant move, Cari. Brilliant.
I glance up to see Jett staring at my exposed leg. He quickly clears his throat and looks away, not saying a word. He’s already back at his computer as the meeting with his father starts.
Paul Knight’s voice booms through the speakers, setting the tone for what I know is going to be a long, painful day for Jett.
And probably for me, too.
JETT
My assistant can be a bit ditzy at times, but she's usually very efficient, and she's the reason I function as well as I do. She organizes and fixes things for me. I rely on her too much.
Then there are moments when she gets distracted. Her mom's passing six months ago hit her hard. I understand it, though. I know what it’s like to grow up without a mother.
I was right there by Cari’s side after her mother lost the fight for her life. I’d been awful to her. A huge deal I desperately needed was stalled at the last moment because she missed something, and I unleashed my fury. I should have picked up on what she missed because she was going through such a tough time. I had no idea that her mother was lying in the hospital sick with an infection which spiraled into sepsis and took her life. I rushed to the hospital only to see Cari fall apart.
I'm usually the last person to offer comfort, except to Brooke. But that day, I couldn't bear to watch Cari wrapping her arms around herself, as if she were trying to keep from falling apart. Tears streamed down her pale face, and I couldn't stand there and do nothing. I pulled her to me, and she melted against my chest. I hugged her tight and tucked her head under my chin. She was so small and fragile in my arms, and she broke into pieces while I held her.
That day is etched into my brain forever.
I don’t yell at her for fun. She probably thinks I do it more since her mom passed, but that's not what’s going on. There are moments where I see Cari drift off to another place. I know when it happens because I see grief crawling over her, winding its heavy vines and rooting her in sorrow. In those moments I try to do something, anything , to evoke an emotion other than the heartache and suffering she's feeling. It works, because I see it. I see how my words and my moods incite a spark back into her eyes. They make her react, give her a fire and animation that’s a million times better than her drifting around the office with a blank expression. I will take Cari’s anger any time over her bottomless misery.
So I do my best to elicit a reaction, because anything is better than seeing her heartbroken.
But she is a dichotomy. One moment she's a super-organized tower of efficiency who I'd be lost without. But some days I get the other Cari. Like the one who just tipped over my coffee cup and then mopped it up with her dress.
I didn't need to see her bare leg. Not as I'm about to start a meeting with my overbearing father. At times like this I need to be on my A game, and sometimes, Cari knocks me right off it.
I stare at the computer screen, at my father's cold face, and I listen. But my office smells of coffee, and it’s hard to focus.
“I don't like it,” my father says, pulling me back into the meeting. Thankfully, Zach is also on this one.
“What's not to like?” I try to mask my irritation. I caught the gist of what he was saying. Our father distrusts everyone and everything. Hell, I’m the same way, probably more like him than I’d care to admit. Alicia once said that, along with every other woman I’ve introduced to the old man.
“I don’t trust them, but that’s because I don’t know them. Yet. Is that the time?” my father grumbles, glancing at the corner of the screen.
“It's almost ten in the morning over here,” Zach says helpfully, ever the diligent son. Of the three of us—six if you count the other Knights— I called them the half-Knights once. My father heard and rebuked me for it. Brothers by another mother. The secret family that upended our world and our mother’s.
Of us all, Zach is the one who seems desperate for our father's love and attention. He’s the only one who calls him “Dad.” The rest of us don’t call him anything. We meet as a family every so often at the Knight family dinners that our father hosts, mostly for show, though business is often discussed. Our father insists on it, not because he cares for unity, or about us being a family, but because a united front is vital to keeping his empire intact.
“I’m looking at AO Eletronica. The owner, a hugely successful businessman, is worth billions. I like their business—it’s in the in the telecoms and electronics space—but I need to get to know him better as a person to see how we can help one another. Wine and dine him and his management board,” our father says. “And until I do that, I don’t trust them.”
You don't trust anyone.
“Don't worry. I’m sure you’ll suss them out, Dad.” Zach reassures him again and I nod in agreement, my contribution minimal. Why isn’t Dex on this call? I was just talking to him earlier. The smart guy probably wised-up and found something to keep him busy. No one likes a meeting with Paul Knight, but a morning meeting just sets the day up wrong.
“Are we done?” I ask, feeling a tightness at the back of my neck.
“For now.” Our father hangs up.
“Speak to you later,” I say to Zach, and hang up, before standing up and stretching. The tension in my shoulders ease with a satisfying crack. The air smells like coffee and wet fabric but my desk is spotless now, thanks to Cari.
I step out of the office to find her. She’s standing at the copier with her back to me, still wearing that same damp dress. The soft hum of the photocopier fills the room. I clear my throat, but she doesn’t turn around. I wonder if she’s ignoring me on purpose?
“Isn’t that still wet?” I ask, making my way toward her.
She jerks her head toward me, cheeks flushed. She’s always been terrible at hiding her emotions.
“Your dress,” I explain, gesturing toward the fabric clinging to her. “It's still looks wet.”
Nose up in the air, she swipes her photocopied sheets and swans away. “I'll live.”
She’s been quieter lately, and it doesn’t sit right with me. Normally, we trade banter—her sharp comebacks, my dry humor. Direct orders work best with Cari. She responds to those.
She sits down, placing the pile of papers on her desk before continuing with her work. She doesn’t engage in small talk. I talk; she works.
“Go buy yourself a new dress.” I pull out my credit card and offer it to her. Just as I expected, her brown eyes flash with defiance as she glances at the card, as though I’ve handed her a dead rat. I don’t understand why she looks confused. I’ve given her the card before—to pick up gifts, jewelry, and lingerie for my girlfriends; things I don’t put on the company card.
“I have my own money, Jett.” Her voice is low, almost wounded.
“It’s just a suggestion,” I huff, trying to shake off the tension. It certainly wasn’t my intention to make her feel like she couldn’t afford it herself. She shakes her head, and I slip the card back into my wallet. “Have it your way. But this,” I motion her outfit with my hand, “is a bad look for the office, especially if a client walks in and sees that.”
“I’ll dry it with a hand dryer in the washroom.” She goes back to her work, still not meeting my eyes. Come to think of it, she’s been off for a while now. Even when I sent her to pick up those earrings for Alicia from Cartier, she didn’t throw her usual quips at me. I miss the barbed comments, the verbal sparring. I miss the old Cari.
“We’re leaving early tomorrow,” I say, changing the subject. I'm going on a short business trip to Monaco, and when Alicia heard about it she wanted to come along. So, we’re going a few days early to have some time to enjoy the sights. I don’t care for it much, but Alicia says she could do with a break. “I won’t be in the office for the rest of the week.”
“Enjoy your vacation,” Cari mutters without looking up.
“It’s not a vacation.” I grit my teeth. “It’s business.” Of the seven days, five are for business, meetings with investors and shareholders, then more meetings with a couple of startups I’m interested in. Plenty of things to keep me busy.
She meets my gaze, and something flickers there—something dark, simmering beneath the surface of those russet-brown eyes, something that has me feeling instantly restless and edgy.
“Okay then ... Enjoy your business, Mr. Knight.”
I’m about to make a comment. She doesn’t usually call me Mr. Knight, but recently, in prickly moments, she has been.
***