Burned Hearts (Burned 3)

He joined me in bed again and cupped the side of my face with his hand. I’d seen a myriad of feelings cross his devilishly handsome features over the past year. The expression I thought was reserved strictly for the birth of his child apparently applied to the Lux as well, because Dane was as equally fascinated, grateful, and filled with wonderment now as he had been when he’d laid eyes on our son for the first time.

“You know how much 10,000 Lux means to me,” Dane said as he stared deep into my eyes. “It was my dream—my only dream. Until I met you. What happened to the resort … It devastated me, Ari. Not as much as losing you would devastate me, but I couldn’t bear to think about it, envision it in my mind, consider what the hell I’d do about it, without wanting to kill Horton and Vale.”

I sucked in a breath. “You know how I feel about that, Dane.”

“I didn’t do it, did I?” he said. “But I wanted to. I’ve spent endless nights lying in bed plotting my revenge. The one thing I didn’t strategize was how to revive 10,000 Lux. I really couldn’t bring myself to consider it.”

“You don’t have to,” I assured him. “I’m not saying I totally know what I’m doing, but again, I’m working with the people who do know what to do. And once it’s structurally complete, Amano can help with all the functions that will bring the hotel back on-line. Dane, we can still have our grand opening. You can still have your dream hotel.”

He fell silent again. My tension didn’t ease.

“Are you happy about this?” I finally asked.

“Hell, yes, I’m happy,” he said emphatically. “I’m just … blown away. My God, is there anything you won’t take on?”

“I think we already know the answer to that.”

“Rattlesnakes and scorpions,” we said at the same time.

He shook his head. “Jesus, Ari. I’m just floored. I can’t even fathom how you’ve managed to do this.”

“It’s only a start, Dane. Don’t get too excited.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he told me. “The fact that it means enough to you to do this—”

“It does mean a lot to me, Dane. Because it means a lot to you. And because I love the Lux, too. I couldn’t stand the idea of it abandoned and left sitting to rot. Or being completely demolished. That broke my heart. I had to do something.”

He kissed me fiercely. I was breathless when he pulled away and he said, “I honestly didn’t know how I would face the Lux when the thought of what happened makes me so irrational and—”

“Not homicidal.” I pressed my finger to his lips. “I’m not saying you don’t have the right, but you know how that disturbs me. Greatly.”

Pushing my hand away, he said, “I know. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to feel it, though.”

“Vale is dead, anyway. And Wayne Horton will get what’s coming to him. The society members you cut from the Lux have no vested interest and are going to prison as well. The only thing you have to figure out is what to do about Ethan, Qadir, and Nikolai. Jackson doled out the equal amounts of insurance money, based on their percentage of investment. I don’t know how it works going forward, since you all were committed together at varying degrees, but now—”

“Shit, Ari.” He scooted away and stood again.

“Yeah, I get it. They might still hold an interest in the hotel, but Jackson will—”

“No, wait.” Dane dragged a hand down his face. “You just hit on the one thing we didn’t look for yesterday.”

I eyed him curiously. “Sorry. Not following you.”

“My father’s investments.”

“We did talk about that. He had strictly corporate holdings under his own umbrella.”

“Sure, for his major businesses. But maybe there actually were joint investments I never knew about.”

I caught on quick. “Like investments he might have held with other society members? Or … Ethan?”

“I know Ethan’s conglomerate names and investment groups. Where’s your iPad?”

I slipped from the bed and rushed to the sofa in the corner where I’d left my tote bag. I pulled out the tablet and handed it over. Dane settled in next to me again and started surfing. I kept quiet, not interrupting or sidetracking him, because he looked like a man on a mission.

I watched him plug in names on various state incorporation sites. Owners’ names popped up, but nothing connected to his father. Dane continued for an hour or so, clearly racking his brain for all the possibilities he could recall. Then, suddenly, his fingers stopped tapping. His entire body stilled.

I’d just emerged from the shower. “Dane?” I asked. “What?”