“I read. I watch movies. I surf the internet.”

“Do you?”

“And what do you know?” I counter, thinking about his trunk, the contents of which I still haven’t inspected. But leather cuffs are rather telling, as far as I’m concerned. And, yes, I am intrigued.

“I think there are some very interesting things that can be adopted from the BDSM repertoire,” he says as his finger strokes my collarbone, then my breasts. He flicks his thumb over my nipple, and I can almost see him thinking about the possibilities.

After a moment, he looks up at me again. “As for the collar, that’s a symbol of ownership. Do I need to mark you as mine?”

I lean forward to kiss him. “You already have.”

His expression hardens. “Your tattoo. On your back.”

I cringe and shake my head. “No. God, no.” My words are vehement, and he relaxes. “I was lost when I had Cass do that tat. It was a way to keep you without keeping you. And that wouldn’t satisfy me now. Not even close.

“No,” I continue, taking his hand and pressing it to my chest. “You’ve marked me here. You’ve marked my heart, Jackson. And we both know that I belong to you.”

He is not beside me when I wake in the middle of the night, and though I try to drift back to sleep, I can’t seem to manage it without Jackson beside me.

I find his T-shirt on the floor and put it on, wanting the scent of him more than I want the warmth of a robe. Of course, as I climb topside, I begin to regret that. California is mild, but in October by the ocean, there is a definite chill.

Fortunately, he is not outside, so I am not too cold when I find him in his office, which is made from the converted entertainment and living area on this exceptional floating home.

He is sitting at his desk, facing the blackness of the ocean and a few sparkling lights from Catalina Island in the distance. He is flipping through a folder, and from where I stand at the top of the stairs, I can see that the documents inside are photographs and sketches.

“Fucking ridiculous,” he mutters, and I take a step toward him, curious.

“Jackson?”

He looks up, and I’m grateful that he looks happy to see me and not irritated that I’m intruding. “Hey. Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not without you beside me.”

He holds out his hand for me, his smile tender. “Then I apologize for leaving. Come here.”

I do, and he slides his arm around my waist as I look down at the documents he’s studying. They are his sketches. And I can see that his reaction is identical to mine—no matter who follows him, the resort will suffer for it.

“It’s not going to be as good,” he says, though I’m not sure if he’s talking to himself, to me, or to the universe at large.

I sigh. “No, it’s not.” I lick my lips, and then voice the thing that has been troubling me. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ve had this discussion. Stark is the asshole who fired me. You were just the messenger.”

“Not for that. For staying.”

“What?” He looks genuinely baffled.

“I could have walked out, too. I probably should have.”

“No.” He shakes his head vehemently. “Good god, Sylvia, did you think that I would want you to?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Didn’t you?”

“This is your project. Your concept. Your baby. Of course I don’t want you to toss it away for me. I’m the best—I’m not going to argue that point—but no matter who you end up with, it will still be an excellent resort, and you are the reason why.” He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “I would never ask you to walk away from something you love, and you shouldn’t ever do that. Not without a reason that makes sense. And misplaced loyalty isn’t a good reason.”

“My loyalty isn’t misplaced,” I say.

“No, you’re right. But the urge to quit because of me is.”

I think about it. “Maybe,” I say. I’m honestly not sure. But I do know that I am relieved that he isn’t angry that I stayed. And, more than that, that he doesn’t even want me to go.

“So who will you pick to fill my very large shoes?”

“Damien wants Glau back on the project. Did I tell you he was less than enthusiastic about Tibet?”

“Good god.”

“I know.” I drag my fingers through my hair. “Even if you’re gone—which sucks—but even if you are, surely I can find someone better than him. Someone with more enthusiasm, at least. I mean, Glau actually walked off. I don’t want him back.”