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Ineededthis job.

The Rolling Hills would mark a goal I’d aspired to since we launched Harrington—one I was very public about when we first started out: my company would resurrect one hundred consecutive failing companies and turn them into—at a minimum—million-dollar businesses.

As far as Lila knew, that was the point of taking this job.

“Lila, if we set it up right, with this resort becoming a favorite playground within weekending distance for New York’s elite,noonewill forget it was us who turned it around. They’ll be reminded we’re the best every time they walk through those doors. Can’t you just see limos dropping off a string of New York City billionaires under that portico?”

Lila had a photo of the place up on her computer screen, and her expression, glowing white from the screen, showed me she saw it too.

But it wasn’t just hitting 100.

It was hitting itspecificallywith a hotel. My dad and certified asshole Brian Harrington owned a chain of luxury hotels on the west coast. Ones I knew were flagging. If I turned the Rolling Hills around he’d see I wasn’t just exceptional at business. I was better at his own flavor of business than he was.

I wanted to hit 100 with this big ol’fuck you, Dad.

In the end Lila had agreed to do it, but only if we doubled our already hefty fee. “No pro bono travel either,” she’d said. “And I get to bring Brynn.”

“Fine,” I said, even though a knot twisted in my stomach at that last condition.

Brynn was our only employee, and having her with us would make our job a lot easier than having her working remotely. But Brynn was also Lila’s actual wife. The house Lila and I shared had a rental suite at the back, which Brynn rented—on paper, anyway. It was me who lived there. But lately, I’d been hiding out at the office, even spending at least a night a week on my office couch. More and more I couldn’t stand spending time with them. It wasn’t just my drive to get to 100. And I loved Brynn, and Lila too. They were like family to me. But when they let their guard down in private, it was hard not to notice how in love they were. It wasn’t that ooey-gooey kind of early love, either. Lila and Brynn had been together for over a decade. Theirs was the kind of love that was as worn in as my old baseball glove. It was the kind of love that hurt my damn chest every time I saw it because I knew it would never be something I’d have. I’d made sure of that the day I ‘married’ Lila.

I rubbed my face with my hand now. I needed to focus on how we were we going to get off this island. And what the hell happened to my fishing rod?

When I looked back at the woman, she’d sunk down onto the sand, staring out at the jumble of logs downstream. I could see the contrition on her face. No, the fear. She hadn’t known she was in so much danger. If those logs hadn’t been there, she could have easily gotten out—at least, that’s what I’d have thought if I were her.

I let out a breath.

“Hey. I wasn’t trying to be a hero, okay?” I said. “You seem like the kind of woman who knows how to help herself. You sound like one, anyway.”

She scoffed. “What is that supposed to mean?” She still had her guard up. And why not, when I’d come off like a condescending asshole.

“You seem… tenacious. Anyway, we all need a hand sometimes. And I couldn’t stop to ask you if you wanted one.”

“I couldn’t see the logs from the water,” she said finally.

I raised an eyebrow, then made a show of sliding my hands down the arms of my drenched sweater, sending water slopping down onto the sand.

Then she let out a breath. “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m sorry. You did the right thing.”

I was over it. And I felt bad that she was embarrassed. But I still wasn’t going to let her completely off the hook. “You can make it up to me,” I said.

For a moment, a flash of alarm went over her face.

Heat hit my chest once more. “You can help me find my fishing rod.”

“Oh,” she said, seeming to relax, at least a little. “Yes, okay.” She pursed her lips but glanced briefly toward shore. I followed her gaze as she glanced upriver toward downtown. The bridge that led to downtown Quince Valley seemed so close, and yet so far away. No one could possibly see us from over there. We’d have to flag someone on the trail.

Except she’d been the only one I’d seen all morning.

“How are we going to get back there?” she asked. “We can’t get back in the water.”

“Fishing rod. Then we’ll figure it out.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, sending an unexpected jolt of heat through me.

What the hell was wrong with me?

It was too long since I’d been with anyone, that was all. I had the odd quiet and wholly meaningless tryst in the city, though most often I reserved those for when I was out of town. I couldn’t be seen with another woman, just like Lila couldn’t be seen interacting with Brynn in a way that didn’t look like she was just a colleague and friend. Our business depended on the facade of our marriage. More importantly, Lila’s whole life did, too. The whole reason I’d agreed to marry my friend from our pick-up soccer league in college was because her parents—her rich, powerful, beloved, devoted, parents—would have disowned her if they knew she was gay.