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I shake my head, my heart splintering at the thought of her leaving me, not believing me. “I have no intention of marrying a woman I barely know. He said I needed a wife and Brooke needed a mother, but my relationships aren’t transactional.”
Cari’s expression is unreadable, but I see the hurt lurking beneath the surface. She folds her arms, her voice soft but resolute. “I think it’s best if you go.”
She hasn’t heard me. She’s not listening to me. She’s already decided she can’t trust me. A hollow ache fills my chest. “Is that what you really want?”
“It’s what’s right,” she whispers, and for the first time, I see the cracks in her armor.
I grab my briefcase, heading for the door, my head ready to explode in anger. Cari stares at me in silence, and I know. “He told you not to say anything to me, didn't he?”
She remains impassive. “He made you think that you and I don't belong together, because he has some fucking plan for his legacy. Of who we should marry, of how to preserve and keep the bloodline going. Whatever the fuck that means.” She still doesn’t answer. “This isn’t over, Cari,” I growl, as I leave.
Paul Knight getting the better of me? The fuck I’m going to let him.
Chapter 50
JETT
All weekend, I’m miserable as fuck.
Brooke misses Cari deeply, asking about her constantly, which only intensifies my own guilt and sadness. It’s hard enough coming back from Bermuda, and harder still to walk into an empty apartment. But it’s soul-crushing to know that Cari won’t be a part of our daily lives.
Even though she hasn’t ever been to my apartment, this place feels suffocating without her. Not having her in my life, and in Brooke’s life, seems like an impossible situation. This void that now faces me, bleak and bottomless, cannot be my life.
Brooke’s questions about Cari are endless, her sadness palpable. “When’s Cari coming back, Daddy?”
“She’s busy, angel.”
“She’s always busy now,” Brooke mutters, her small voice breaking my heart.
Dropping her off at camp the next morning is brutal. She clings to my hand longer than usual, her eyes darting to the door like she’s hoping Cari will magically appear.
It's not just me who needs Cari—Brooke does too. But Cari won’t come back.
My father’s fingerprints are all over this. If I had any doubts, Cari’s behavior confirmed it. He said something to her—something cruel enough to make her walk away. He couldn't get me to commit to the arranged marriage, so he's done something to make Cari walk away.
I never expected her to do it, to listen to him, but the old man has a way with his words. He is cunning, and Cari would do the right thing by me and Brooke. He’s done it before—manipulated, twisted, broken things he had no right to touch. But this time, he’s gone too far. Cari thinks she’s doing the right thing by leaving.
For Brooke. For me.
But I know better.
Cari is a part of our lives, and it's not just Brooke who wants her there, I want her there. Not fleetingly. Not for a vacation. For something more.
She can't see it yet, she's scared and doesn't want to mess things up. But I won’t let her go—not without a fight.
What we had in Bermuda wasn’t just a fling. It was everything. It was real. And I’ll be damned if I let my father take that away from me.
There’s a strong chance the snake tried to pay Cari off. My father offered me money to marry the heiress, so it’s likely he offered her something too. That’s the way he operates—calculated and always trying to control the board.
But, as I've come to learn, not everything in life is for sale.
Cari may think she doesn’t belong in my world, but I’ll show her she does. She belongs by my side. Not some heiress that I’ve never met and don’t know. I'm going to make our relationship public, no matter the consequences, because losing Cari isn’t an option.
***
I stay away from her when we get back to work. I need to focus. I need to find a nanny and a new assistant—these things are urgent and I must deal with them. The more pressing issue, the one that really matters, is what I’m working on.
I walk into the office on what is supposed to be Cari’s last day. A part of me still wonders if she’ll change her mind and tell me she doesn’t want to leave. There’s a heaviness in the air I can’t shake. Ordinarily, I’d make a show of it—flowers, a generous gift, something to mark her years of service. Maybe even a small gathering with the PAs, my brothers, and some of the other staff.