“No, of course not. But surely you don’t think—”

“I don’t know,” Damien says. “And that’s the point. I’m cutting my losses, Ms. Brooks. Take care of it first thing in the morning.”

The words are a dismissal, but I don’t leave. “So that’s it?” I demand. “The resort is dead?”

“Maybe not,” Damien says. “As it happens, Glau called me while we were in New York. He didn’t ask outright, but he beat around the bush enough that I can tell he regrets leaving the project. Apparently Tibet isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“But—”

“We’ll do everything we can to keep the project alive,” he says firmly. “But Jackson Steele isn’t going to be a part of it.”

I nod, because I know better than to argue. I’d known this might happen, dammit. As soon as Jackson told me the truth, I knew that Damien might want to push him as far from Stark International as possible.

I just hadn’t let myself believe it would really happen.

“Right,” I mumble. “Okay. Tomorrow, then.” I hitch the tote more firmly on my shoulder and start again toward the elevator. Nikki is standing in the doorway between the living area and the hall that leads to the bedrooms. I catch her eye as I pass, and she manages a thin smile, looking a bit like someone who has just witnessed a car crash and isn’t entirely sure what to do now.

As for me, all I want is to get out of there, because I know that any second the tears are going to start flowing. Ironic, because until yesterday when Jackson held me in his arms, I hadn’t cried for over a decade. Now I can barely hold it in.

I press the button for the elevator, expecting it to open immediately. When Damien is home, the elevator is usually where he is. But of course Jackson rode it down, and I have to wait for it to be recalled from the lobby.

I shift my weight from foot to foot, willing it to hurry. Needing to just be gone.

Needing to go find Jackson.

Finally, the elevator arrives. I squeeze in before the doors are even fully open, then jab my finger hard against the button to close them again. They’re almost shut when Nikki skids to a halt outside and slides her hand through the gap, tripping the safety feature and making the doors spread open again.

She steps onto the elevator with me, then leans over and pushes the button for the lobby. “Do you want to talk?”

I shake my head. I’m still in full flee-mode, and while Nikki is a friend, right at the moment, I can’t quite separate her from Damien.

“Talk to him again in the morning. This is all very … unexpected,” she finally says, clearly searching for the right word. “Give him some time to digest, and he might change his mind.”

“Do you really think so?”

She hesitates, then lifts one shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Do you think he should?” Right away I want to take the words back; I sound so damn needy.

“I think that’s up to him,” she says. “But if it were my decision, then yeah, I think he should keep Jackson on the project. Hell, I think he should try to get to know him. Reach out. If they’re brothers, then maybe they should try to be brothers.”

I lean back against the wall and look at her. It makes sense. Why go straight to enemies without first trying to be friends, if not family? “Are you going to tell him that? Or at least suggest he shouldn’t fire Jackson?”

A soft laugh bubbles out of her. “Um, no. Not hardly.”

“Why the hell not?” My words are sharper than I intended, but dammit, I thought I’d found an ally.

“You know why. This is between Damien and Jackson and Jeremiah. You and I can have our opinions, but it’s not up to us.”

“So share your opinion.”

For a moment, she just looks sad. “Come on, Syl, you know I can’t. If I asked, Damien would keep him here. We both know he’d do that for me. And I couldn’t live with that hanging between us.”

I know she’s right. There is very little that Damien wouldn’t do for Nikki, and it’s a testament to the strength of their relationship that she understands just how much responsibility that puts on her shoulders.

Even so, her answer frustrates me. “What about me? What if I ask him to keep Jackson on as a favor to me?”

“You can try, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. Friendship means a lot to him, but honesty and professional integrity mean more. Jackson should have told him the truth a long time ago. And he sure as hell should have told him before he came on board the project.”