The island grows larger as we approach, details emerging from the mist. The rocky outcropping where we first washed ashore. The tree line where we built our shelter. The beach where everything changed between us. My hands grip the railing tighter, memories flooding back with enough force to make me dizzy.
Three weeks of survival. Three weeks of learning what Nikolai looked like beneath the cold Pakhan exterior. Three weeks of falling in love while thinking we might die there.
"It looks smaller," I say quietly.
"Everything does when you're not fighting for your life." His hand slides down to my hip, pulling me closer. "My security team swept every inch. We're truly alone this time. No hidden photographers. No watchers. Just us."
The reminder of Marcus Webb, the fugitive who violated our privacy, makes anger flare hot in my chest. But Nikolai handled that threat with the same brutal efficiency he applies to everything that threatens what's his. I don't ask for details. Some things are better left in the shadows where they belong.
The yacht anchors in the same cove where we swam for life, and I feel the weight of that night pressing against my skin like a physical force. The storm. The violence of the waves. Watching Nikolai go overboard and jumping in after him without thinking.
"I was terrified," I whisper, more to myself than him. "When I saw you go under. I thought I'd lost you before I even knew what you would mean to me."
His arms come around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. "You saved my life that night. Changed everything."
"You kept us stranded." The accusation comes out softer than I intend, without the heat it once carried. "You had the GPS beacon the whole time."
"I did." No apology in his voice, just brutal honesty. "And I'd do it again. Those three weeks gave me something I didn't know I needed. You. Us. A future I'd convinced myself I didn't deserve."
I turn in his arms, studying the face I've memorized in a thousand different lights. The sharp angles that soften when he looks at our son. The ice-blue eyes that blaze with heat when he touches me. The serpent tattoo winding down his neck that I've traced with my fingers and tongue more times than I can count.
"Take me to the beach," I say, my voice dropping to something intimate. "The one where we first made love."
His expression shifts to something predatory, hungry. "Now?"
"Now."
The crew boat carries us to shore, and I slip off my sandals the moment my feet hit sand. It's warm beneath my toes, familiar in a way that makes my throat tighten. Nikolai dismisses the crew with a gesture, and then we're alone, truly alone, for the first time since we left this place.
I walk toward the spot where our shelter once stood, now reclaimed by nature. The palm fronds we wove have long since blown away, but I can still see the outline in my mind. The way we huddled together against the cooling nights. The sound of his voice reciting Russian poetry while we worked. The moment I realized I was falling for a man who should terrify me but doesn't.
"What are you thinking?" Nikolai asks, coming up behind me.
"That so much as changed since we left here." The words come out steadier than I feel. "Thyme & Tide has three locations now. The cooking classes are booked months in advance. My prepared food line sits on grocery store shelves across the city."
"You've done more than build an empire." His hands find my waist, turning me to face him. "You've created something that matters. Given opportunities to women who never had them before. Shown the Bratva world that strength comes in many forms."
Heat floods my cheeks at the fierce pride in his voice. "Maya's managing the original location. Two years sober. Actually becoming the sister I always hoped she could be."
"Because you didn't give up on her." His thumb brushes across my lower lip. "Even when you should have."
I think about my sister, about the long road to recovery and the trust we're slowly rebuilding. She's dating someone now, a nice guy who works in construction and doesn't know about her past. She lights up when she talks about him, and I'm learning to believe that happiness might actually last this time.
"The council respects you again," I say, my fingers finding the buttons of his shirt. "Your empire is stable."
"Because you taught me that mercy can be strength." His hands slide under my sundress, palms warm against my bare thighs. "That I can be the Pakhan and still be human."
The words make something warm bloom in my chest. I rise on my toes and press my lips to his, tasting salt air and promise. He responds with hunger that matches my own, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I open for him.
"Make love to me," I breathe against his mouth. "Right here. Where it all began."
He strips my sundress over my head with hands that tremble slightly, revealing the simple bikini I wore underneath. His eyes darken as they track over my body, and I feel the heat of his gaze like a physical touch.
I work at his shirt buttons with fingers that have steadied, revealing the tattooed landscape of his chest. The serpent winds down from his neck, disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts, and I trace its path with my fingertips. His breath hitches, his hands tightening on my hips.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his accent thick with desire. "More beautiful than the day I first saw you on my yacht."
"You thought I was an obstacle in your way." I push his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the sand.
