CARI
We step out of the SUV, and I breathe in the familiar, warm, salty air of Bermuda.
Hard to believe we were only here a few months ago. So much of my life has changed since then.
The staff greet us warmly. Ruby’s wide smile makes me feel so welcome, because it feels surreal to be back here in this house where it all began for me and Jett. “Nice to see you again, ma’am,” she says, nodding.
“It’s lovely to be back, Ruby. And please, call me Cari.” I was just Cari before, but something about the way she addresses me makes me wonder—has Jett announced that I’m more than just the “nanny” I was last time?
We’re about to head upstairs to unpack, unwind, and freshen up when Brooke grabs each of our hands, her eyes alight with excitement.
“I want to go to the beach!” she declares.
Jett exhales a laugh, already giving in. “Fine. Let’s do it.”
I know our itinerary for this short stay—seven days, seven perfect days in paradise. And Jett set the boundaries with his father before we left. No business. No shitstorms to deal with. And his father wasn’t to contact him unless someone was dying.
As we step out onto the back patio, the familiar ocean breeze wraps around me. Brooke runs ahead, laughter ringing out as she kicks off her sandals and races toward the ocean.
I survey the postcard-perfect view—white sands, crystal-clear water, the sky a dreamy shade of blue.
“This is it,” Jett murmurs, his arm slipping around my waist. “We’re going to make up for the time we were supposed to have before everything went to hell.”
Before his father turned up on a peaceful, beautiful evening as Jett and I sat in the gazebo, with Brooke playing on the swings.
I lean into Jett, the tension in my chest easing. “It’s perfect.”
“Celine invited us over for dinner tonight,” he says.
“I know, she told me. It’ll be wonderful to see her. And I bought some clothes and gifts for Zara’s new baby brother.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Jett kisses the top of my head.
“I figured Celine could give it to her daughter, from all of us. Brooke helped me wrap everything.”
Jett chuckles. “I bet she did. She told me that she and Zara are going to play mommies and daddies looking after the baby.”
“Ouch,” I wince, thinking of Elephant, and how Brooke trails around with his trunk sometimes dragging along the floor. I’m looking forward to seeing Celine again. She and I have been in regular contact since I left. I needed her, and called her after that meeting with Paul Knight—when he summoned me to his office and ordered me to break things off with Jett. Then he tried to buy me off. I didn’t need his money and I refused to take it because I can’t be bought. Having Celine to lean on helped.
Eliana, Bianca, and my Aunt Scarlett have been my rock, but Celine understands this world—the Knights. Her insight and wisdom got me through those dark days after that meeting, and then when Jett made his confession in front of his entire family, I was overwhelmed, and happy, and still … a little wary. Because despite what he’d said, Paul Knight’s words still burrowed into my mind in rare moments of doubt.
Because this isn’t just any family.
The Knights are something else, on another level. I can’t forget what happened to Jett’s mother, Aurora. Her life with Paul Knight had obviously started with love, but look how it ended.
When Jett tells me he loves me, I believe him with every fiber of my being, but there are fleeting moments when I think of Aurora Knight. I’m sure she once believed Paul Knight, too.
But Jett is not his father.
He is his own man.
“Brooke want’s to have a sleepover at Zara’s house,” I announce. “Maybe we can see what Celine says. I don’t want to inconvenience her.”
“It’s probably better for the sleepover to be at Celine’s place, that way the new mom and baby can have time to themselves … while Brooke and Zara make the kind of mischief five-year-olds make. And then we’ll get Zara over to our place one day,” says Jett. I can almost hear the cogs in his brain turning.
“Brooke is so excited about Zara’s new brother. She wants one too, apparently,” I add, smirking.
Jett lets out a sigh. “I know. When I told her we were returning here for a short visit, the first thing she said was, ‘Daddy, I want a baby brother!’”
His lips twitch, and I suspect he’s up to something. “What are you thinking?” I ask, eyeing him suspiciously.
He looks down at me, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Just that this fixes a problem I was trying to solve on the flight over here, if Brooke has that sleepover.”
“What problem?”
“What to do with Brooke… because she can’t be around when I do the most wicked things to you and make you come hard multiple times.”
“Multiple times, huh?” My stomach drops. Heat rushes through me, pooling low in my belly.
This man. He’s ruining me.
I always remember how he once told me to stop wasting my time on boys—that I needed to be with someone who knew what he was doing. Someone who made it worth my while.
Being in bed with him is something otherworldly. I never knew that being intimate could be like this. Being open and vulnerable, letting go completely. And in turn, I get to see Jett, my once steely and ruthless boss, unravel in front of me.
He leans in, voice dropping. “We’re going back to that private island.” A wicked smile spreads across his face.
“The private island?” I whisper, even though I know exactly what he means. The place we’d planned to visit, during our last few days in Bermuda last time. Before his father arrived and disrupted everything.
“A night of indulgence, and lots of hot sex,” he whispers. “Before I lose you to your flower shop.”
Every time I think Jett can’t possibly top his surprises for me, he outdoes himself. It was magical, the way he casually announced to me and the girls, including Aunt Scarlett, about his plans to whisk us all away to see The Mayflies in Canada.
That was a few weeks ago, and a few days ago, shortly before I’m about to open my little flower shop at The Living Room, he dropped the surprise about a mini-vacation in Bermuda.
“You’re not going to lose me to my business.” I trace a finger around his jawline. “It’s true, we won’t see each other all day, in the office, like we used to, but we get to spend our nights together.” I’ll never forget those days when he would drive me insane with his orders and arrogance. When I kept my feelings for him close to my chest.
He presses a kiss to my lips. “I’ll take the hot, sweaty nights any time.”
“Just how private is this island?” I’m curious to see it.
“Not even the bodyguard will be with us. He’ll be keeping an eye on Brooke, at Celine’s house, assuming the sleepover goes ahead. This really will be private, Shortcake. Just you and me and the stars.”
He paints a beautiful picture and my insides turn giddy with anticipation, though I don’t want Brooke to feel left out. “It’ll be a shame not to have Brooke with us but I’m sure she’ll have a better time at Zara’s.”
“She will. We can always bring her back another time. Get used to Bermuda, Shortcake. We’re going to be coming here often.”
“I have no problem getting used to that,” I assure him, thinking how I’m the luckiest woman alive.
“With just you and me left to our own devices, it means I get to …” He tips my chin up, about to kiss me, but before our lips meet—
“Daddy! Cari! Come on!”
Brooke’s voice rings out, and naturally, we park our thoughts and go to her, knowing our time will come later.
***
This secluded slice of paradise is breathtaking. The villa is nestled among lush tropical greenery, its whitewashed stone walls softened by climbing vines and blooming hibiscus.
I fell in love with it the moment I saw it.
Inside, there are two floors. The master bedroom upstairs has a wide wraparound veranda overlooking the turquoise ocean framed by pink sands which stretch endlessly. Light linen curtains sway with the ocean breeze.
It’s quiet here—just the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, the rustle of palm fronds in the breeze.
We are truly alone. Just as Jett said, not even the bodyguard is here. He’s stationed outside Celine’s house, where Brooke and Zara are having lots of fun, I’m sure.
This evening Jett and I prepared a light dinner together. A crisp and delicious chicken caesar salad with grilled shrimp skewers. While Jett was putting the finishing touches to the salad, I set the table with everything—candles, linen, cutlery, plates, a bottle of white wine.
We came here on the yacht a few hours ago, then spent the afternoon swimming and lounging in hammocks under the shade of coconut trees.
I’m a pretty good swimmer now, because I’ve been taking lessons, determined to shake my fear of the water. If I’m going to be with Jett and Brooke, I want to swim freely, without panic or fear.
Jett has been antsy all day, because I’ve been a tease and managed to keep him at bay. But now that devilish look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know about how tonight is going to end.
A night of no sleep.
Earlier, I let him steal a few lingering kisses in the water, but no more. I wanted to ramp up the anticipation.
Now he’s starving for it.
I smirk, watching him bring bowls of salad and a plate of grilled shrimp to the table.
“Candles? Nice touch. But I was thinking, maybe we should we just skip dinner and get right down to business?” He raises a brow and his gaze rakes over my dress, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. This is a man in hurry.
I eye the unmistakable bulge in his shorts and hold back a smile. Even though I know what’s coming, part of me wants to relive that slow, torturous build-up again. The kind we had in the bar, late at night, and in the library—the unspoken promise in every glance. the last time we were here.
“I want to get changed into something lighter,” I say.
“Change? You already look beautiful as you are.” He sounds surprised. I’m sure he’s thinking my clothes aren’t going to stay on me much longer, so why bother getting changed?
I wink. “I’ll be quick. This is a special night, Jett. It deserves something extra.”
“Should I change too?” he asks. Irritation sets across that smooth and handsome face of his. He’s so impatient. I know my man, and he wants to get on with it. Goodness knows I’ve made him wait all day.
“Nope. That T-shirt and those shorts? They’re not staying on much longer after dinner.”
His face lights up and I rush into our bedroom, slipping into the flimsy red dress he gave me—the one that started everything. Then I slip into the stilettoes before gazing at my reflection in the mirror. I inhale a deep breath, and already my breasts feel heavy. Liquid heat pools low between my legs.
By the time I sashay downstairs, my pulse is pounding. Jett is pouring wine when he looks up—and freezes. I move toward him, heart racing, knowing exactly what I’ve done to him.
And I’m only just getting started.
“What the—” He lets out a strangled breath and sets the wine bottle down, his hands bracing the edge of the table as his gaze locks onto me, dark and heated, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard.
I stop just out of his reach, and let him drink me in. There’s something powerful about being admired, about knowing I’ve completely unraveled him without even touching him.
The first time I wore this dress, I felt like a different version of myself—someone bolder, more confident, sexy and in charge. But tonight, I don’t just feel that way.
I am.
Jett’s jaw tics as his heated gaze drops to my legs, to the deep slit in the dress that threatens to reveal flashes of skin with every step I take.
His shorts look tighter than before.
“I don’t need to eat food.” He eyes me like he’s a predator, and I’m ripe for his taking. “I just want to eat you.”
I bite back a smile, tilting my head playfully. “But I’m hungry for food, Jett,” I say, flirtatiously, in the most seductive voice I can muster. “I need sustenance, to get through the long night.”
He reaches for me again, but I step back, putting a hand up. “No touching.”
His brows snap together. “No, that’s not fair—”
“Let’s eat first,” I say sweetly. “And then we can move into the bedroom.”
“I’m not sure I’ll make it that far,” he rasps. “Can I kiss you?”
“Kissing involves touching,” I counter, with a sweet smile that probably irritates the heck out of him. “And you know exactly what that will lead to.”
His nostrils flare. He looks absolutely wrecked. “Can I at least get you to twirl around?”
I smile, then spin slowly, making sure the silky fabric flares just right, revealing hints of bare skin underneath.
His breathing turns harsh.
I twirl again—faster this time—knowing exactly what he’ll see. This dress is so flimsy and cut, he’ll get a peek of my breasts, not to mention down below where I’m not wearing any panties. Again. And this time, he’ll see it without me needing to tell him.
He groans, low and hoarse. “Fuck, Cari.” His hands curl into fists at his sides. “What are you doing to me?”
I tilt my chin up. “Do you like it?”
He stares at me, looking pained. Desperate. “You know how much I do.” I feel like I’ve pushed him to his limits. I should ease up a little.
“Let’s eat,” I suggest, cheerily, though my mind is heading into the bedroom.
We sit down to eat, but Jett wolfs down his food. I’m hungry too—spending all afternoon in the water took it out of me—but my anticipation is stronger. He downs his wine in one long gulp and his plate is empty within minutes.
I’ve only managed a few mouthfuls and I haven’t even touched my wine. My appetite has vanished and I’m no longer hungry. Not for food. I blow out the candles and stand. “Come on,” I whisper, and lead him upstairs slowly, making sure he gets a good peek of me, under the dress as I climb the stairs in front of him.
I hear a low grunt at the back of his throat. “You’re playing dangerous games, my little Shortcake.”
No sooner do we step into the bedroom than he spins me around, pushing me gently against the door.
And then—he kisses me. It’s wild. Feral. Deep and possessive. A full-body claiming. I gasp into his mouth, my hands on his face, his shoulders, his chest, and I’m already spiraling from the intensity. Heat floods my body and I am desperate for him.
And then suddenly—I’m naked.
I don’t even know how he did it. The dress had delicate bows on the shoulders, and somehow, Jett untied them in seconds, but I didn’t even notice. Red silk pools at my feet. I start to kick off my stilettos but his hands clamp over mine.
“No,” he says darkly. “Leave them on.”
I giggle. “Okay.” I’m aware that some men have a fantasy about this so, if this is one of his …
I let him guide me toward the bed, crawling back against the soft sheets, naked except for the high heels he refuses to let me take off. Then I watch as he strips off his t-shirt, and his shorts. I lick my lips as his cock springs free, thick and heavy. I know exactly what’s coming and I cannot wait. A dirty sound escapes my throat because this man consumes me, he owns me, and he can do whatever he wants to me.
But instead of joining me on the bed, like I’m desperate for him to do, he disappears into the bathroom.
I sit up, frowning. “Jett?”
Seconds later, he returns—holding a small bottle.
A slow, devious smile spreads across his lips.
“You thought you were going to tease me?” He stalks toward the bed, towering over me, his voice dark with promise. I try to reach for him, to touch his cock, but he pushes my hand away. “It’s my turn,” he murmurs. “I have rules, too, Shortcake. You’re not to touch me. Not yet.”
I blink up at him. “You’re serious?”
Instead of answering, he gently pushes me down and spreads my arms and legs apart, so that I am spreadeagled on the bed. Completely exposed for him. He lifts one of my legs and cradles my stilettoed foot, his hooded gaze settling on my soaking folds. “You can touch me,” I whimper. He runs his tongue around his lips, as if contemplating, but he doesn’t inch closer to where I need him. Instead, he puts my leg down, moving it wide, then lifts up and cradles my other stilettoed foot. “You can,” I whisper, seeing that his gaze is drawn to that place, and he’s so close to giving in.
I shift my hips, trying to angle them upwards, but he sets my leg down. Adjust my legs so that they are widely spreadeagled. “If you move,” he warns, a wicked glint sparking in his eyes. “I’ll punish you.”
Heat flares in my belly. I ignore him and shift slightly again, testing the waters. “Punish me how?”
His smirk is pure sin. “I’ll make you beg.”
I huff out a sigh.
I want that. I want him to punish me.
“You promise to be a good girl?” His voice is smooth as silk.
I nod, my mouth too dry for me to speak, yet I’m drenched between my legs.
Jett chuckles, dark and low. “I’m going to massage you all over, and I will touch you everywhere. But you can’t move. Got that, Shortcake?”
I whimper something incoherent.
“I didn’t hear you, Shortcake. Are you going to be a good girl or not?”
“Yes.” It’s a strangled word, because I am so aroused. He only has to touch me and I’ll come. But he doesn’t touch me, at all. Instead he kneels between my wide open legs, and opens the bottle. The scent drifts towards me—warm, rich and sensual.
Something aphrodisiacal.
Something that makes me whimper with need.
He drizzles warm oil onto his hands and rubs them together, taking his sweet time, and still he hasn’t touched me. My breath shudders out and I pant, short and desperate inhales and exhales, feeling so vulnerable, and completely at his mercy.
Yet safe. He won’t hurt me, that much I know, but I’m on fire.
He still he keeps me waiting, his hooded eyes locking with mine as my nipples peak, goosebumps skitter along my skin. “Jett …” I moan, feeling like a tinderbox, ready to ignite at any moment.
I whimper and mewl, wanting to move my arms, and legs, needing to touch myself, if he won’t, but every time I try to shift, he warns me.
At last, his warm hands glide over my calves, slowly and methodically, as he slicks my body with oil, rubbing gently, kneading the muscles. Relaxing me. My erogenous zones cry out for attention, but like the sadist he is in this moment, he ignores them.
He works his way up along my legs, his hands now massaging my thighs as my body melts under his touch. I long for more than his hands and fingers. I lust for his beautiful cock.
He shifts higher up between my legs, still kneeling between them, but now he’s massaging the space above my thighs, just below my belly, but not quite there, and it brings so much pleasure to my body, I can’t stand it anymore.
“Please, Jett,” I plead.
He flashes me an infuriating smile, and continues massaging. But I see his cock, with its engorged head and its glistening tip, and I know he’s as desperate for it as I am.
I shift my hips slightly, seeking friction, but he grips my hips, pinning me down. His voice is a husky whisper. “No moving, Shortcake.” He surprises me with his composure, while I struggle to stay still.
The throbbing between my legs ratchets up as his hands skate over my skin, covering me with the spicy oil, smearing it all over except where I need him most.
His gaze rakes over me, and I see the way it keeps flickering below my belly, and then up to my breasts. I know his weakness.
“Suck them,” I murmur, like a temptress. “You know you want to.” I arch my back, thrusting my breasts out.
“I told you not to move,” he says, then gets off the bed to arrange me back into a spreadeagled shape again. This time he positions my legs wider. His eyes fall on my most intimate part again, and a vein throbs on his forehead.
It’s taking all his willpower to abstain.
“Take me now, Jett,” I plead. “Please, I’m so ready.”
But he straddles me again. “Not yet, Shortcake.”
“You want to,” I protest. “You’ll come all over me if you hold out any longer.”
“Would that be such a problem?”
“No, no,” I cry out.
“In time, Shortcake.” He shifts position so that his thighs now cradle my hips and his balls touch my clit. His cock lies on my stomach now, and he presses against my opening. I sigh at the touch. My body knows what should happen next but Jett doesn’t follow the familiar pattern. He pours the oil directly over my breasts this time, instead of on his hands. I shudder as he takes his sweet time massaging my breasts.
Feeling more turned on than ever, I ignore his orders and arch my back, wriggling as I try to rub against him. I’m so close to coming, and I try frantically to get some friction.
“Be still, Shortcake, otherwise, I’ll tie you up, and you can watch me stroke myself.”
“Please,” I beg, because that image arouses me even more.
He arches a brow. “You want me to tie you?”
“And fuck me long and hard.”
He stops his massage. “I promise to do those things. In time.”
“Jett,” I plead. This man has turned me into a sex addict. He was right. So right. He’s opened up a world of pleasure that I didn’t even know existed. But now, to my simmering frustration, he continues to massage my breasts again. He does it for the longest time, making wide, sweeping movements with his hands sliding all over my chest. With his cock resting so tantalizing on me, and his balls teasing me, I can’t take it anymore. “I’m going to come!” I cry.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Then stop teasing me.” I moan and wriggle beneath him again, frustration mounting. “Jett …”
His smirk deepens. “You can tease me, but I can’t tease you?”
I shudder again. “Please.”
“I’ll give you a treat,” he murmurs, shifting position. He moves further up my body, until his knees land on either side of my head and he kneels. My breath catches as he takes his thick, hard cock in his hand and strokes himself, mere inches from my face. I lift my head and open my mouth in anticipation, but instead of letting me suck him, he paints my lips with his precum.
I inch my head up some more, trying to taste more of him, but he pulls back just as my tongue darts out and catches his wet crest.
That’s all it takes.
He flips me onto my stomach, hands gripping my hips and pulling them back, and then he thrusts deep inside me. One push, and he’s in to the hilt.
I cry out, my body shattering around him. I come instantly, jolting as he rams in and out continuously. Then, he groans, a deep, guttural sound, and I know he’s barely holding on. My muscles clench around him, dragging him deeper, and I hear his sharp intake of breath—
He pounds into me over and over again, and my body bucks with each thrust as he slaps into me. Filthy noises of sweaty bodies slamming together fill the room. Jett cries out my name as he fills me completely and holds for a few delicious seconds. I feel myself clenching around him, and then he empties inside me, sending me over the edge again, as we both come together.
We slip out later that night and sit on recliners, the night air warm against our skin. The sun has long since dipped below the horizon, leaving streaks of pink and gold across the sky.
Jett takes my hand.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says, his voice low. “About the future.” I turn to him in silence. “I want to build it with you.”
My breath catches. “We are building it,” I say. “You have your business. I have mine. We’re still finding our way. Jett.” I’m aware of how we’re navigating our personal lives with the knowledge of his father’s disapproval.
He shakes his head. “I’m not talking about business, Cari. I’m talking about us. You, me, Brooke, and … maybe later—”
“Yes?” I whisper, unsure, but hopeful.
His fingers tighten around mine.
“Maybe, children, one day, only if and when you’re ready, and marriage, before that obviously, when the time is right, if and when you want to be with me—” He catches my frown. He knows me well enough to read my thoughts. “Don’t worry about my father. Living with him is a matter of being able to deal with him, and we’ll deal with him.”
I squeeze his hand. “I just want you to be okay.” Paul Knight is a looming threatening presence over our lives, but Jett dealt with him, and in my own way so did I.
“I am okay, because I have you. Brooke and I, we have you in our lives now and I can’t remember how life was before.” He kisses the back of my hand, eliciting a smile from me. I love his tender kisses, and his tender touches. .
“What will he do now, about that arranged marriage deal with the Brazilian heiress?” I ask.
He sits back in his recliner, and I mirror his movement, but we’re still holding hands. “He’s gone quiet regarding that.”
“You think that’s the end of it?”
Jett sighs. “I’ve not heard anything since.”
“Do you think he’ll try to convince Dex?”
Jett scoffs. “Dex would never agree to something like that. Never.”
“But he said he’d marry her for the money, remember?”
“Money doesn’t mean much to Dex. He’d never marry for money,” Jett insists. “That much I know.”
I believe him. I’m slowly getting to know the Knight brothers. They all seem headstrong, but in different ways. Out of Dex and Zach, Dex certainly would never go for it, despite joking about it that time at the Knight family dinner when Jett stood up to his father and presented me. That was a night I’ll never forget.
As for Zach and the heiress, I’m not so sure. “What about the others? Rio, Matteo and Enzo?”
“I couldn’t care less about them,” Jett says. “I don’t know how they think or what they’d do in that situation.”
This anger in him will need working on. It’s not good to hold onto it for as long as he has. I lean over to him. “Don’t go there,” I whisper, eager for him not to dwell in the past. Especially not while we’re here, in this beautiful paradise, all by ourselves.
He cups my face tenderly. “I love you so much, Shortcake.”
“I love you, too.” I gaze at him, my heart impossibly full.
And then he kisses me—slow and deep—under the Bermuda sky. We part just before I think about straddling him and making love here in the inky blue darkness.
Instead, we sit, holding hands. I glance up at the stars twinkling so brightly and I wonder if my mom knows how happy I am, and how things have turned out for me.
She would be over the moon, knowing that I have such a good man in my life. That I found my place, and am surrounded by love. I’ve never been happier.
I’ll never be lost or alone, with Jett and Brooke beside me.