On My Knees (Stark International Trilogy 2)

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.”

“Say so. It’s your project, after all.”

I consider that. And he’s right. “It is my project,” I say firmly. “And if Damien can veto you, then I can veto Glau.”

Jackson grins at me. “That’s my girl. Can you hold on to that attitude in the face of my brother?”

I make a face. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Well, good for you.” He puts his hand over mine. “Apparently I’m just going to sit back and say fuck it.” He pushes away from the table and rises from his stool. “Dammit, that’s just not me. I don’t take shit lying down. I never have.”

“Then why now?”

“Because apparently I’m one of Pavlov’s fucking dogs.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about and say so.

“All my life, moving to the whim of Damien. He said jump, and my family asked how high.” He makes a derisive noise in his throat. “Bastard has his finger on the control button and he is constantly pressing.”

“So take it back. Take control back from him. You’re good at that.”

He’s been facing opposite me, but now he turns, and I can see that he’s considering something. “You’re right,” he says as his expression clears and a wide grin spreads across his face. “I absolutely am.”