My legs are burning, and my core is on fire, but I increase the speed on the treadmill one more time, my feet connecting hard with every step. It’s a reckless speed, almost out of control, I need a way to get some of this energy out of my muscles.

Otherwise, I’ll be insane by the time Isabella arrives later in the afternoon.

Thinking of her makes my heart pound in a crazy rhythm that has nothing to do with reason. It’s only love. The stupid, headlong kind of love that I felt as a teenager, only a thousand times more powerful. All I want is to be looking at her, listening to her voice, in bed with her.

Finally, finally, the treadmill beeps, signifying the end of the mile, and I slam my hand down on the stop button.

Done.

I spent the morning lifting weights, music on loud in the background, and fitting in as many miles as I could. I wonder what she’s doing right now. Probably relaxing in her apartment. Or, knowing Isabella, she’s sneaking into the office on what’s supposed to be a day off to work on something. She’s always working on something. She never feels like anything is done.

We’re kindred spirits, that way.

Yesterday, when she got into work, the first thing she did was call me. I was waiting in my office for my cell phone to ring.

“Hi.”

“You’re determined to make everything complicated, aren’t you?” Her voice rang with truth, but there was also a hint of a laugh.

I played the fool. “Complicated? By doing what?”

“I assume this white box on my desk is from you. I’m basing that assumption on the tag. It’s got your name right here.”

“You got me. I sent it.”

“Jasper.”

“What?”

“You cannot send me gifts like this.”

“Why not?”

“First of all—” Isabella sighed, but I’m positive there was a smile behind it. “This necklace is worth a fortune.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I do like it.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s worth a fortune.”

“Isabella Gabriel, you are the kind of woman who deserves extravagant jewelry. What if we were to attend another awards ceremony? I’d want you to have something nice to wear.”

She laughed. “It doesn’t have to be…you know what, never mind. Thank you for the gift, Jasper.”

“No, tell me.”

Isabella had dropped her voice then. “I want to be with you.”

“I know. I’m over the moon.”

“I don’t want to be with you because you can do things like…this.”

“I would imagine it has more to do with my unbelievable sexual prowess.”

Her low laugh made desire zing down my spine. “That, too. But I don’t want you to get the idea that—”

“That you’re after my money?”

“Yes.”

“But you are after my money…at least a little bit. My building, anyway.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“That’s all been decided,” I reminded her, teasing. “You’re mine. Your mother is safe. What more is there to do now, other than get the hell away from work and out of all these clothes?”

“How do you know what I’m wearing?”

“It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. I want it on the floor of my penthouse.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Then meet me there.”

“Necklace or not, I’m not cancelling another day’s worth of meetings for you.” She hung up while I was still laughing.

I’m walking down the hall to my bedroom when my phone buzzes on my bedside table, the vibration loud enough for me to hear it even from outside the room. I rub one of the small towels I keep in the gym across the back of my neck one more time and pick up the pace. Isabella.

It’s an incoming call, not a text, and I snatch up the phone without looking at the screen. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“Lovely.” My dad’s voice is dripping with sarcasm.

All the invigoration from my date with the gym drains out of me. “What is it, Dad?”

“I’m calling to tell you that your secret’s out. You and that woman were plastered all over the tabloids this morning.”

I laugh out loud. “You think that’s the first time we’ve been in the press?” I flash back to the awards ceremony—the way we danced around each other on the red carpet, the way she leaned in to make it look like we were in the middle of some passionate affair instead of a business arrangement, what I did to her in that alcove, how her face looked when I turned on that vibrator. Those photos made waves, too.

“I know it isn’t. Last time I had to look at pictures like this, I didn’t know you were getting played by a gold digger.”

I roll my eyes. “She’s not a gold digger, Dad, and her name is Isabella.”

“Oh, Isabella. What a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.”

“What has she asked you for so far?”

“Nothing.”

He laughs, too hard and for too long. “Think again, Jasper. It might have started with something small, but she’ll be working her way up by now, if those pictures are any indication.”

I took her to dinner last night at a club, and the usual Friday night paparazzi were outside when we left. Both of us were laughing, and I swept her into my arms while we walked to the car. She upped the ante by crushing her mouth against mine, kissing me so passionately that it was like we were totally alone, back in the penthouse. Cameras flashed. I didn’t give a shit. Isabella is the only woman I’ve appeared in public with like that in years, and I don’t care if everyone knows how I feel about her.

“Or maybe it’s not that,” continues my dad, doing his best to sound thoughtful. “Maybe it’s something she’s asked you not to do. I’m sure it’s probably something that benefits her while you take a loss. Does that ring any bells?”

“No.” My answer doesn’t sound convincing, not even to me.

“I see how it is. Enjoy your Saturday, son. I’d advise you not to fall any deeper into this trap.”

He hangs up before I can answer.

“Fuck you,” I say into the stillness of the master suite. The phone lands on my comforter with a muffled thump, and I turn my back on it, heading straight for the showers.

I try my best to ignore the icy pinprick of doubt in the bottom of my gut.

This might have been about power and money and property in the beginning, but it’s not now. We’ve moved past that. Far past that.

Right?