The Ultimate Billionaire Bundle (EBOOKS)

From JETT, Book 1, KNIGHT EMPIRE:

"I was his assistant. Not his girlfriend. Not his priority. Just... the one who
fixed everything.”

Jett Knight is the kind of billionaire who
never asks. He commands.
He’s cold. Arrogant. Untouchable. And I’ve been his assistant for five years.

Cleaning up his messes. Cancelling his dates. Taking care of his daughter when
no one else sticks around.

But now? I’m done.
I’m walking away.

Until he asks me to come on one last
trip—to Bermuda.

With him. And his daughter.

There’s just one problem:

I’ve been in love with my boss for years.

And the closer we get, the harder it is to pretend I don’t care.

He’s not mine.

He never was.

But in Bermuda, something shifts.

The way he looks at me. The way he protects me. The way he touches me like I’m not
just his assistant.

This was supposed to be a clean break.

Instead, it might break me entirely.

Jett and Cari's story is for the ones who love:

* Slow burns that ache
* Billionaire bosses who fall HARD
* Single dad softness behind the ice
* “One bed” tropical tension
* And heroines who finally choose themselves

If you've ever loved someone who didn’t see you… until it was almost too late—
This story is yours.

Chapter 1: The Darkest Knight (prequel to KNIGHT EMPIRE)

CARI

I want my mom to live. That’s what I want, more than anything.

“Cari! Don’t forget. I need the most recent financial projections for Vanhelm formatted, printed, and included in packets. I need to present
them at the family dinner.” My boss’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

My fingers tremble, hovering over the keyboard, as I try to rein in my emotions, dispersing my heart-wrenching  wishes like dandelion seeds on a breeze.

I look up and stare right into his cutting blue eyes.  My brain empties, offering a reprieve for just a few blissful moments. I can’t even remember what I was going to type next. Jett’s strong, spicy scent envelops me, and just like that, my shaking
fingers still and  my pulse flutters. This
surly and commanding man is the bane of my existence.

And my secret crush.

I sigh. I know he’s jittery, because everything’s riding on this, but goodness, can’t he give it a break? “I know, Jett. You’ve already
told me twice this morning.” When I first started working for him, I called him
Mr. Knight, but he asked me to call him Jett. So I did.

With his shirtsleeves rolled up and his large hands pressing down on my desk, he makes it impossible for me not to look at his bare forearms.

“If I’ve told you twice it’s because it’s important.” Another waft of his cologne floats past me and my brain blanks again. “Well?” he snaps, when I remain silent.

Between my boss’s endless demands and the constant worry about Mom’s health, I’m barely keeping it together.

“I’m taking care of it,” I reply, keeping my voice as steady as I can. “I wish you’d trust me to get this right.”

I also wish he wouldn’t stand so close. Overpowering and in my face. I have trouble getting him out of my thoughts as it is.

He leans in slightly, the gleam in his eyes freezing me in place. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle it,” he says, as if that makes it any better. “It’s a big fucking deal.” Then he stands up, shoves his hands in his pockets and steps back, allowing me to breathe again.

I sense he’s possibly bracing for conflict with that overbearing father of his. The Knight family dinners sound like a form of torture that no normal family would subject themselves to, but these are the Knights, and they’re anything but normal. Their father convenes his six sons together over for dinner when there’s something important to discuss, almost always related to business. These people wouldn’t meet to discuss pleasantries.

Jett is negotiating a high-profile merger with Vanhelm Enterprises, a company who specializes in the renewable energy industry. It’s a big deal for him, especially being in a sector that the Knights don’t usually deal in. It’s already pissed his father off, but Jett hasn’t backed down. He’s met the conflict head-on and is still determined to see the deal through. Paul Knight, on the other hand, loves the fossil fuel industry. And therein lies the extra conflict, because this father and his sons don’t really like one another.

“They’ll be done by five,” I reply, forcing calm into my tone, even though I haven’t started the projections yet. I stand up and absentmindedly pick up a paper file which I’ll pretend to file soon if he doesn’t move.

“And,” Jett adds, his voice laced with that aggravating calm authority, “I need you to pull together the quarterly projections and draft a summary of the Stenson deal for tomorrow’s call.”

I suppress a groan as I set the file down again and scribble a note to myself. This is completely unrelated to the Vanhelm deal, but the Knights have their fingers in so many different pies, I’m often overloaded with work.  All the assistants are.

That’s my lunch break gone, and likely my evening too. “Anything else?” I ask, my tone sharper than I intend.

Jett’s gaze flickers downward, and for a split second, his eyes linger inside my blouse. I straighten up immediately, my breath catching at what he might have seen.

He just looked down my blouse.

But Jett Knight isn’t that guy. He’s neither slimy nor a pervert. If anyone has any fantasies, it’s me, about him. Not the
other way around. It would never be the other way around. This man dates
beautiful women. Women who are high-powered, smart and independent.

All the things I’m not.

But still, he did look down my blouse. I’m sure of it. A shiver rolls over me. I hate how my body reacts to him, the thrill that sparks when he slips like this, showing me a crack in his steel armor.

He clears his throat and quickly looks away. “No. That’s all.”

When he glances back, there’s a sheepishness in his expression that sets my heart aflutter. Not for long, though. I notice my second button has come undone, leaving visible a sliver of burgundy colored lace.
Which means he got an eyeful.  At least I’m wearing my Victoria’s Secret bra that my boyfriend, Rory, gave me for Valentine’s Day.

I discreetly try to do up the button.

“Thank you,” he says, loosening his tie. “I appreciate you putting in the extra time. Why don’t you take tomorrow afternoon off?” His voice softens, a rare concession.

Before I can reply, my phone buzzes on the desk. “MOM” flashes across the screen. Guilt tightens my chest, but I hit decline.

Jett frowns. “Shouldn’t you take that? It’s your mom.”

“I can see that, and I will. Once you leave,” I say tightly.

He hesitates, concern flickering across his face. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” A lie, but one that gets him moving.

“Good to hear.”

I remember something just before he reaches his door.

“I also sent flowers to William Templeton’s wife. She’s in the hospital recovering from an emergency appendectomy.”

He turns around, hands still in his pockets. Of course, I notice his wide shoulders again and the way his cuffs are folded up.

Don’t ogle his forearms. Don’t.

His brow furrows in that familiar way. “His wife? But I don’t know her.”

“That may be, but he mentioned that she was recovering from an operation. He told you about it when we were in the meeting.”

He stares at me blankly, but I’m not surprised that this man doesn’t remember.

“Right, right,” he says, to himself, as if the lightbulb has gone off in his head. “We’re on the verge of signing the deal.”

“You are.”

Trust him to remember the deal but forget about the people involved. Personal gestures like this? Not on his radar, even indirectly. Money and numbers are what this man focusses on. His father has taught him well, and
these Knight men and their obsession with their empire proves it. They only
value money. I don’t trust Paul Knight, I don’t like him, and I keep my distance from him, and I pity his personal assistant.

What’s even worse is that I can see Jett turning out like him in a decade or so. Maybe Brooke will cause him to change. My heart melts thinking about that adorable little girl who is the center of Jett’s world, and the cutest little four-year-old I know.

Jett scratches his jaw. “Thanks?” He says it like a question, as if he doesn’t understand why I sent the flowers.

“It’s a nice thing to do. It shows him you care. It shows him that you’re a human, and things like that matter.” I often have to explain these basic concepts to him.

“You’re probably right,” he admits. “Thank you for handling it. You’re …” He stops and rubs the back of his neck. “You’re good at what you do, Cari. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as he walks away. I don’t know what he’d do without me either, and that’s the problem.

As I sit back down, my phone buzzes again. It’s a text from Mom.

 Don’t call. I’m napping. Stop by on your way home. Aunt Scarlett made tacos.

 I exhale, relieved she’s resting, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. Even the thought of my favorite food waiting for me does nothing to relieve the ache.

Jett returns, shrugging into his jacket. “Can you pick something up for Dina?”

I freeze. Dina. His latest girlfriend. “Pick what up?”

“A watch. Cartier. It should be ready.”

My jaw tightens. He really doesn’t listen, does he? “I told you. I’m already working through lunch as it is.”

He stops short, his expression softening. “Right. Sorry.”

My mind is in disarray, still caught up worrying about my mom. Now I stare blankly at my demanding boss. A man who has no idea what I am going through. A man who lives in his billionaire bubble.

“I suppose I could go and collect the watch myself.”

“Do you think you could?” It sounds cockier than I intended.
I should let it go, but something snaps. “Why don’t you pick up a cookie-cutter
set while you’re at it? Christmas-themed. Brooke needs them for her school
project, and I’m guessing you don’t have anything like that at home.”

I overheard him on the phone to his little girl a few days ago. She needs him to come home early so that they can make cookies for her to take to school. His brows knit in confusion, and for a second, I almost feel sorry
for him. This man can close multimillion-dollar deals in his sleep, but he’s
clueless about the simple things.

Without waiting for a response, I dive back into my  work, typing furiously to claw back time. I’ll finish this, see Mom, and eventually get a minute to breathe.

An hour later, Jett strides back in, phone pressed to his ear. He drops a brown bag on my desk.

“Lunch,” he mouths.

I peek inside to find something from my favorite deli. I open the brown paper wrap, and my heart leaps. He got me my favorite sandwich.
Turkey and avocado on toasted sourdough, loaded with lettuce and tomato and a smear of garlic aioli. I slump back. There’s even a slice of pepper jack cheese. How does he know about this? Maybe he overheard me placing an order on the phone. I stare at his closed door, my chest tightening with gratitude and frustration. He doesn’t make it easy to hate him.

He’s a billionaire, a pain in the ass, and a complete enigma. But every so often, he shows he has a heart, and that’s what makes it so damn hard to walk away.

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