Page 129
Story: Jett
And he wants to see me in his office.
I have no choice but to go. His office is just as I remember—cold and unwelcoming. I step inside, shutting the heavy door behind me, bracing for whatever verbal landmines he plans to scatter.
“Good flight?” he asks, not looking up from the papers he’s signing.
“Yes,” I say curtly, taking the seat across from him.
He finally glances at me, his cool gray eyes sharp, as if they can cut through every layer of pretense. “I didn’t know your assistant was leaving.”
My jaw tightens. He’s been sniffing around—he always does. “I didn’t think it was something you needed to know,” I say, keeping my tone steady. “I informed HR. She’s working through the end of the week.”
“Hmm.” His fingers tap against his desk, the sound grating. “You also don’t have a nanny.”
“No.”
He leans back, studying me. “Will you be employing her for that role?”
“What exactly are you trying to get at?” I ask, the question edged with irritation.
“I’m simply making conversation.” His hands form a steeple, his chin resting on the tips of his fingers. “Why is she leaving?”
“Why the interrogation?” I shoot back.
“It’s just a question.”
I force myself to relax, though every muscle in my body screams otherwise. He’s baiting me, and I won’t give him the satisfaction. “She wants to move on,” I say finally. “Do something else.”
His eyes narrow, as if he’s dissecting my answer. “Any thoughts on Daniela Oliveira?”
“Who?”
“Your future wife.” My hands grip the armrests of the chair, but I keep my expression neutral. “The Brazilian heiress,” he clarifies, his tone far too casual. “Her father and I have come to an agreement. It’s a merger, Jett. An alliance between Knight Enterprises and their telecoms empire—it’s a match made in boardroom heaven.”
“I don’t care what you and her father agreed on. I’m not doing it. Also, how incredibly presumptuous of you to think that I would marry someone just because of a business deal.”
“Listen to me.” He sits forward, cold eyes pinned on me. “This is business. You need a wife, a mother for Brooke. This is about our legacy. You marry her, and the deal is sealed. You’re free to have your mistresses—”
“Stop,” I snap. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“You’re turning down ten million dollars? From me?” He scoffs, leaning back like he’s caught me in a checkmate.
“Money doesn’t buy everything.”
He laughs, the sound hollow. “It buys happiness, stability, respect. You’re too young and too stupid to see that.”
“Don’t ever bring this topic up to me again,” I say, my tone ice-cold. “Ever.”
His smile fades, replaced by a calculating look. “You’re serious. You won’t even consider it?”
“A mother can’t be bought. Neither can a wife.”
He folds his arms, his posture unnervingly relaxed. “Anything can be bought. You should know that by now.”
“Not everything.” I give him a hard stare. After everything that’s happened in his life, has he not learned anything? He must have loved my mother once. Did he not feel any guilt over her death?
“I’m sure one of your brothers will oblige, then. The half-Knights, as you call them.”
The mention of Rio, Matteo, and Enzo draws a bitter laugh from me. “The secret sons? The ones you hid from everyone? Somehow, I doubt they’d jump at the chance to clean up your mess.”
I have no choice but to go. His office is just as I remember—cold and unwelcoming. I step inside, shutting the heavy door behind me, bracing for whatever verbal landmines he plans to scatter.
“Good flight?” he asks, not looking up from the papers he’s signing.
“Yes,” I say curtly, taking the seat across from him.
He finally glances at me, his cool gray eyes sharp, as if they can cut through every layer of pretense. “I didn’t know your assistant was leaving.”
My jaw tightens. He’s been sniffing around—he always does. “I didn’t think it was something you needed to know,” I say, keeping my tone steady. “I informed HR. She’s working through the end of the week.”
“Hmm.” His fingers tap against his desk, the sound grating. “You also don’t have a nanny.”
“No.”
He leans back, studying me. “Will you be employing her for that role?”
“What exactly are you trying to get at?” I ask, the question edged with irritation.
“I’m simply making conversation.” His hands form a steeple, his chin resting on the tips of his fingers. “Why is she leaving?”
“Why the interrogation?” I shoot back.
“It’s just a question.”
I force myself to relax, though every muscle in my body screams otherwise. He’s baiting me, and I won’t give him the satisfaction. “She wants to move on,” I say finally. “Do something else.”
His eyes narrow, as if he’s dissecting my answer. “Any thoughts on Daniela Oliveira?”
“Who?”
“Your future wife.” My hands grip the armrests of the chair, but I keep my expression neutral. “The Brazilian heiress,” he clarifies, his tone far too casual. “Her father and I have come to an agreement. It’s a merger, Jett. An alliance between Knight Enterprises and their telecoms empire—it’s a match made in boardroom heaven.”
“I don’t care what you and her father agreed on. I’m not doing it. Also, how incredibly presumptuous of you to think that I would marry someone just because of a business deal.”
“Listen to me.” He sits forward, cold eyes pinned on me. “This is business. You need a wife, a mother for Brooke. This is about our legacy. You marry her, and the deal is sealed. You’re free to have your mistresses—”
“Stop,” I snap. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“You’re turning down ten million dollars? From me?” He scoffs, leaning back like he’s caught me in a checkmate.
“Money doesn’t buy everything.”
He laughs, the sound hollow. “It buys happiness, stability, respect. You’re too young and too stupid to see that.”
“Don’t ever bring this topic up to me again,” I say, my tone ice-cold. “Ever.”
His smile fades, replaced by a calculating look. “You’re serious. You won’t even consider it?”
“A mother can’t be bought. Neither can a wife.”
He folds his arms, his posture unnervingly relaxed. “Anything can be bought. You should know that by now.”
“Not everything.” I give him a hard stare. After everything that’s happened in his life, has he not learned anything? He must have loved my mother once. Did he not feel any guilt over her death?
“I’m sure one of your brothers will oblige, then. The half-Knights, as you call them.”
The mention of Rio, Matteo, and Enzo draws a bitter laugh from me. “The secret sons? The ones you hid from everyone? Somehow, I doubt they’d jump at the chance to clean up your mess.”
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