The morning air was crisp, the Caribbean heat still a few hours away from becoming oppressive. Inside the villa's study, Roman stood by the window, his back to the room as he listened to Miller over the speakerphone.
"It's done, Roman," Miller's voice was professional, clipped. "I met Patricia's counsel at their hotel. I delivered the restrictive amendment. From now on, any contact goes through my office. No more private beaches, no more 'accidental' run-ins, and definitely no more golden bikinis. If she wants to see the boy, she does it in a monitored facility in the city. She didn't take it well."
"I don't care how she took it," Roman growled, his eyes fixed on Skye and Adam playing on the patio below. "She tried to play the 'mother' card to get to me. She poisoned a family day. Ensure the process servers follow her if she tries to leave the island. I want her contained."
"Consider it handled. Enjoy the rest of your trip, Roman."
Roman ended the call, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. He had built a legal wall around his family, and today, he intended to enjoy the peace he had bought. He walked out onto the patio, where Adam was trying to convince Skye that his toy shark needed to go shopping for a "tiny hat."
"Change of plans, Scouts," Roman announced, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. "We're heading into the main harbor. I heard there's a toy shop that rivals the one in London, and Skye, I think you've earned a dress that wasn't packed in a frantic rush."
"Shopping?" Adam cheered, abandoning the shark. "Can I get a hat for the shark?"
"You can get the shark a whole wardrobe if you want," Roman laughed, scooping the boy up.
The harbor town was a vibrant, chaotic symphony of sound and color. Cruise ships loomed like white mountains in the distance, and the streets were packed with tourists, local vendors, and the scent of grilled jerk chicken. Roman walked with his usual predatory grace, his hand firmly anchored on the small of Skye's back, while Adam skipped between them, his hand securely in Skye's.
"Skye?" Adam asked, looking up as they navigated a crowded sidewalk lined with high-end boutiques.
"Yes, bunny?"
"The golden lady... Tish," Adam began, his brow furrowing in that way that always reminded Skye of Roman. "She said she's my mother. But mothers stay, right? You stay. Why didn't she stay?"
Skye felt a sharp pang in her chest. She looked toward Roman, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed ahead, though his grip on her waist tightened. He was letting her handle this, trusting her to navigate the minefield of a five-year-old's heart.
"Mothers do stay, Adam," Skye said softly, kneeling down so she was at his level despite the crowd. "But sometimes, people get scared, or they get lost. Tish had to go away for a while to find herself. But what matters is that you have a whole team of people here right now who aren't going anywhere. You have your dad, you have Sarah, you have Tyson... and you have me."
"I like the team better," Adam decided with the simple finality of a child. "I want you to be the Captain Mom."
Skye felt her eyes sting with tears. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'd be honored to be Captain Mom, Scout."
As they stood up to continue toward the toy store, the air suddenly felt different. The light-hearted hum of the market didn't change, but Skye felt a cold, familiar prickle at the base of her neck- the sensation of being watched by someone who didn't wish her well.
She scanned the crowd instinctively, her eyes darting past a group of sun-burnt tourists and a flower stall. Then, she froze.
Standing near the entrance of a luxury watch boutique was a ghost she thought she had exorcised in a courtroom months ago.
Ryder Vane.
He didn't look like the man she had last seen- the one Roman had nearly beaten into the floor of an alleyway. He wasn't bruised, his jaw wasn't swollen, and his expensive linen suit was pristine, a pale cream color that screamed of old, inherited wealth. He was leaning against a stone pillar, a cigarette unlit between his fingers, watching the crowd with a bored, aristocratic disdain.
Then, his gaze shifted. He found her.
Skye felt the blood drain from her face. Her body went stiff, her breath hitching in a way that alerted Roman instantly. Ryder didn't look away. Instead, a slow, dark shadow of a smile touched his lips- not a smile of warmth, but one of recognition and a lingering, sick hunger. He straightened up, his eyes raking over her, lingering on the blue diamond at her throat with a look of pure loathing.
He took a step toward them, his intent clear, but he stopped dead.
Roman had moved. In a split second, the "vacationing father" was gone. The Dragon was back. Roman stepped directly in front of Skye, his massive frame creating a wall of black linen and muscle that completely obscured her from Ryder's view. Roman's hand moved from Skye's waist to her shoulder, pulling her firmly against his side, shielding her with his own body.
Roman didn't say a word. He didn't have to. He leveled an icy, lethal glare at Ryder Vane- a look that promised a violence far worse than their last encounter. It was the look of a man who had already won the war but was perfectly willing to salt the earth if an enemy dared to resurface.
Ryder stood his ground for a heartbeat, his eyes flickering from Roman's face to the security detail that had silently closed in, forming a perimeter around the Thorne family. He realized he was outmatched, outgunned, and out-maneuvered in a territory he didn't own.
Ryder continued to stare, his eyes trying to find a gap in Roman's defense to catch another glimpse of Skye, but Roman shifted with him, a silent, immovable shadow. Ryder finally let out a short, bitter huff of laughter, tucked his unlit cigarette behind his ear, and turned on his heel, disappearing into the dark interior of the watch boutique.
Skye was trembling, her hand clutching the fabric of Roman's shirt. The vibrant colors of the market felt washed out, replaced by the grey fear of the Forest Kingdom.
"He's here," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Roman, why is he here?"
Roman turned to her, his expression softening instantly as he cupped her face. His thumbs wiped away the sudden moisture in her eyes. "He's a ghost, Skye. Just like Patricia. He's likely here on a layover or hiding out from the creditors the Forest Kingdom hasn't paid off yet. He can't touch you. He can't even look at you without my permission."
"I felt him," she said, her voice small. "The way he looked at me... it felt like the auction all over again."
Roman leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. "Look at me. Not at the crowd, not at the shops. Look at me. You aren't on that stage anymore. You're in a harbor town with your man and your son. I am the only one who gets to look at you like that. Do you understand?"
Adam looked up, tugging on Roman's shorts. "Daddy? Why did that man make Skye sad?"
Roman knelt down, pulling both of them into a tight, protective embrace right there in the middle of the sidewalk. "That man is just a shadow, Adam. And shadows disappear when the sun is bright enough. We aren't going to let a shadow ruin our shopping trip."
Roman stood back up, his arm locked around Skye's shoulders, pulling her so close she could feel the steady, powerful thrum of his heart. He signaled to Tyson, who nodded and fell back into a tighter formation.
"We're going to that toy store," Roman commanded, his voice back to its bossy, authoritative self. "And then, Skye, I'm buying you the most expensive dress on this island just because I can. We aren't hiding. Not today. Not ever again."
Skye took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. She looked at Roman- the brute, the protector, her sky, and felt the ice in her veins begin to thaw. Ryder Vane was a ghost, and the Forest Kingdom was a ruin. She had the Dragon, and the Dragon didn't lose.
"Okay," she whispered, her hand finding Adam's again. "Let's get that shark a hat."
As they walked away, Roman cast one last, lingering glance over his shoulder at the boutique. His eyes were cold, calculating, and utterly final. He didn't just want to protect his family; he wanted to ensure that any shadow that touched them was erased forever.