Elodie clearly had no intention of bringing up last night.

Patricia watched her for a moment, then let it go. Still, she was almost certain something had happened between Elodie and Jarrod. Everything had lined up—a little nudge at the right moment, and with two adults like them, all it took was a spark in the right atmosphere.

Elodie slipped away to the restroom.

Last night had been a complete accident.

Much of it was a blur. What she did remember was the darkness of the room, not a sliver of light seeping in, and his burning grip around her wrist. Something inside her snapped; she’d pulled free only to wrap her arms around his neck, drawing him close.

Since she’d been the one to make the first move, she saw no reason to blame anyone but herself. Still, there was something off about the whole thing, a faint sense of wrongness she couldn’t quite name.

She hadn’t planned to dwell on it, but now she couldn’t even be sure who the man had been. She barely knew Watts, and even the thought of asking around made her cringe. Instead, she decided to start with Jarrod—at least then, she’d have

some answers.

After all, in the adult world, a one-night stand wasn’t exactly the end of the world. Whoever it had been, they could both pretend it had never happened and move

on.

The only difference was, if it had been Jarrod, she could deal with it easily. But if it had been Watts…

Elodie frowned as she washed her hands, her thoughts spiraling.

Lost in her head, she didn’t notice someone else come in until she was right beside her.

Turning, Elodie saw Sylvie retouching her lipstick in the mirror.

Sylvie looked radiant, her makeup flawless. She glanced at Elodie with a faint, unreadable smile.

Elodie wasn’t interested in playing nice. She rinsed her hands, dried them, and turned to leave.

Sylvie watched her go, then spoke, her tone light: “Last night was wonderful for me.”

Elodie found the comment bizarre but realized Sylvie was talking to her-there was no one else there. She paused, half-expecting a hidden agenda.

Sylvie’s gaze sharpened, her lips curling into a cool, mocking smile. “Elodie, I hope you’ll let Jarrod go. Dragging out your marriage isn’t love—it’s cruelty.”

What the hell kind of twisted logic was that?

Elodie’s eyes went cold. A mistress telling the wife to get a divorce and let them be together? She opened her mouth, but something caught her eye-a red mark on Sylvie’s neck, stark against pale skin.

Sylvie made no attempt to hide it, letting Elodie look as long as she liked. There was a glint of triumphan her eyes, she knew Elodie had seen

the mark. Her voice was icy. Seen

“If you

have any pride left, walk away. Spare yourself the humiliation.”

Her meaning couldn’t be clearer.

Elodie understood. So last night, Sylvie and Jarrod…

Were those rumors from the staff actually true?

Elodie stared at her for a long moment, then replied, voice calm “What’s the matter? Jarrod hasn’t

promised to marry you yet? So why

come begging me?”

She hit the nail on the head. For all her posturing, Sylvie was the one who wanted something.

Sylvie’s face darkened.

Elodie didn’t bother with her, just turned and walked out.

Even as Sylvie spoke, Elodie realized something else—Jarrod hadn’t told Sylvie

they were already divorced. That was strange.

But with Sylvie’s attitude today, and that mark on her neck…

Had last night’s man not been Jarrod after all?

Arms folded, eyes downcast, Elodie wandered the deck, her thoughts in disarray.

Even the urge to find out the truth was slipping away.

A brisk morning breeze swept over her as soon as she stepped outside.

She looked up, spotting Jarrod leaning lazily against the railing, a cigarette dangling between his fingers.

The moment he saw her, he stubbed it out and turned.

“It’s cold out here. Why aren’t you wearing a warmer jacket?” Jarrod glanced at

her thin sweater, as if a gust of wind might blow her away.

He didn’t seem at all bothered by Patricia’s pointed comments at breakfast, his expression as calm as ever as he walked over to her.