He leaned forward in his chair. “Go on.”“Your company seems profitable, and that’s great, but…” “Yes?”She pressed her lips together, then looked up. “But people work at those companies. People who lose their jobs. When you buy those companies and dissect them, these people lose their source of livelihood and they are forced to give up.”“So?” There was a loud burst of mariachi music from the town below, and she looked in the distance at the dark, moonswept Pacific. “I’m biased, I guess. My grandfather had a candy company a long time ago. It did really well, then things fell apart. Ingredients became more expensive, and we didn’t have the nationwide distribution of the larger companies. Ten years ago, after my father took over, a conglomerate offered to buy Linden Candy. It would have made us wealthy, but my dad knew they’d close the factory and move production, leaving half our town out of work. So for the sake of his employees—his neighbors and friends—my father refused.” “Fooli

IT WAS almost midnight when Sylvia finally collapsed in her old childhood bedroom.Trembling with exhaustion, clasping the same pink cardigan she’d worn in Mexico more tightly over her arms, she sank down on her small single bed, staring blankly at old posters of rock stars she’d pasted as a teenager over the peeling, faded floral wallpaper. A beloved old teddy bear looked down from her bookshelves, next to baking trophies she’d won at the local fair in high school. Downstairs, she could hear her family talking in low voices as they moved over the creaky floorboards. She could smell her mother’s clam chowder bubbling on the stove.She was home. Nothing had changed. And yet—Sylvia looked at Xavier’s dark form in front of her window—everything had changed.They’d both changed on the jet into clothes more appropriate for the cold rain of northern California. Now wearing black pants, a white shirt and a black woolen coat, he looked out at the lights twinkling in the distance. “Is that you

After washing her face and brushing her teeth in the bathroom, she paused again at his closed door as she returned down the hall. Raising her hand to knock, she hesitated. Then with a deep breath, she rapped softly.There was no answer.She exhaled. He must be asleep already. She sighed, filled with a jumble of nerves and disappointment.Tomorrow, Sylvia vowed to herself. She would tell him that she loved him before they reached Las Vegas. Tomorrow, before he traded her for Laila and her chance was lost forever.She’d already experienced so many miracles in her life. The miracle of a good family. Of a home. Of a grandmother who was steadily getting better.Having Xavier love her back would be too much to ask. But tomorrow, Sylvia would take her courage in her hands and do it.Xavier heard a soft knock on his door.Sylvia. She’d come to him, in spite of her mother’s warning. With an intake of breath, he hurried from the bed and reached for the door.Then he stopped. He knew what would

“I will be a better man from now on. Everything is going to be different now, petal. I swear to you. I will do whatever you say, anything to make you happy, anything at all…”Sylvia stared out wearily at the passing scenery as they approached the eastern edge of San Francisco. For the last hour, Arnold had been prattling on about forgiveness and love. She didn’t think he knew what the hell he was talking about.But then, neither did she, Sylvia thought bitterly. She thought of the stark, anguished look on Xavier’s face when he’d said, “I will not try to see you again,” and it was all she could do to keep from crying.So maybe she did finally know what love was after all. Pain.She blinked quickly, staring out at the rain as they zoomed west on the highway.“I was so selfish to insist on having our wedding in Sweden. I should have realized how important it was to you to be married in your own hometown. I swear to you, petal, this time we’ll do it differently…”“Just take me home,” she

“Get in there!”Cursing, Arnold shoved her into the old cabin before he slammed the door behind them. Sylvia backed away, still glaring at him, rubbing her half-frozen wrists that he’d bruised with his sinewy grip.They’d walked for three hours in the frozen rain, up the snowy, rutted dirt road on foot after Arnold’s Ferrari had slid on a patch of ice and blown a tire. Her black dress and thin black coat couldn’t hold up against these wintry conditions. Her black leather pumps were soaked through, her feet like ice, and she’d almost forgotten what it was like to be warm. She didn’t know if she would ever feel warm again.But still, when Sylvia had seen the cabin in the clearing, she’d tried to run away. She’d turned blindly back toward the woods to take her chances in the frozen mountains. But Arnold had had other ideas. Now, he blocked the door, locking it behind him.“What is this place?” she choked out, huddling near the cold fireplace.“Laila’s great-grandfather built it.” He look