The Caribbean night had settled into a deep, velvet stillness, broken only by the rhythmic, percussive sigh of the tide against the shore. Inside the villa, the air was cool and smelled of expensive floor wax and the faint, lingering scent of the coconut sunblock Adam had worn earlier that day.
Roman was out on the expansive limestone terrace, leaning against the glass railing with a glass of neat bourbon in his hand. He hadn't changed out of his black linen trousers, though his shirt was unbuttoned halfway, revealing the tense, corded muscles of his chest. His eyes were fixed on the black expanse of the ocean, but his mind was back on the beach, replaying every calculated sway of Patricia's hips and every barbed comment she had lobbed at the woman he loved.
He heard the soft slide of the glass door behind him. Skye stepped onto the terrace, her silhouette framed by the warm amber light of the bedroom. She had changed into a silk nightgown the color of midnight, her hair damp from a late shower. She looked ethereal, yet there was a heaviness in her gaze that Roman could feel even before she reached him.
"Adam is finally down," Skye said softly, her voice carrying a trace of exhaustion. "He talked about 'the lady in the gold' for ten minutes before he passed out. He's confused, Roman. He's five, but he's not blind. He can feel the electricity in the air when she's around."
Roman turned, his expression hardening as he set his glass down on the stone ledge. He reached out, his hand finding the small of her back and drawing her into his space. "Her name is Patricia," he said, the name sounding like a curse on his lips. "And 'the lady in the gold' is exactly how she wants to be seen- as a shiny, shallow distraction. But distractions don't get to stay in this family."
Skye leaned her head against his shoulder, her fingers tracing the patterns of the tattoos on his forearm. "She was pushing today, Roman. Every time she mentioned the Hamptons or the way you used to be... it felt like she was trying to rewrite the last two months. Like she was trying to remind me that I'm just a new chapter in a book she already wrote."
Roman tilted her chin up, forcing her to look into the storm of his blue eyes. He could see the jealousy she was trying so hard to hide- the way her pupils dilated and her lower lip trembled just a fraction. It was a look of a woman who felt her territory was being encroached upon, and it made the dragon in him roar with protective pride.
"Listen to me," Roman growled, his voice dropping into a lethal, low register. "Patricia isn't a book I'm re-reading. She's a contract I tore up and threw in the trash five years ago. I saw your face today, Skye. I saw the way you looked at that golden bikini and the way you flinched every time she tried to touch my arm. You have no reason to feel threatened by a woman who had to buy her way into a two-hour visit."
"But the legal side, Roman..." Skye whispered. "She's his mother. Patricia has rights, doesn't she? If she plays the 'reformed' card well enough, can she force her way into the estate? Can she take him for weekends?"
Roman pulled her closer, his grip on her waist bordering on bruising, a physical manifestation of his refusal to let go. "My lawyers are already on it. I spoke to Miller for an hour after she left. Her behavior today was exactly what we needed. She didn't focus on Adam; she focused on me. She dressed inappropriately for a child's visit, she spent the majority of the time attempting to flirt with a man who has a standing order of protection against her kingdom, and she made a thinly veiled threat to you before she left."
He let out a cold, dark chuckle that didn't reach his eyes. "Patricia thinks she's playing chess, but she's playing with fire. Miller is documenting everything. Every 'accidental' touch, every mention of our past- it all points to her having an ulterior motive that isn't the 'best interests of the child.' I'm filing for a restrictive amendment tomorrow. She wants more visits? Fine. They'll happen in a windowless room in a downtown law office with two social workers and a court-appointed guard. She won't be coming near the estate, and she certainly won't be taking Adam anywhere without a phalanx of my men surrounding her."
Skye let out a long, shaky breath, her body finally beginning to sag against his. "I just don't want to lose what we have, Roman. I finally feel like I belong somewhere. I feel like his mother. And then she shows up, and I'm reminded that I'm just... the one who's here right now."
Roman's hands moved to her face, his palms cupping her cheeks with a desperate, burning sincerity. "You aren't the one who's here right now. You're the only one who's ever been here for the parts of me that matter. Patricia had the name and the blood, and she walked away for a check. You had a Prince and a Kingdom at your heels, and you stayed for a boy who wasn't even yours."
He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, his scent of cedar and bourbon enveloping her. "I know it's hard to see it when she's standing there in gold leaf, trying to act like she owns the place. But look at Adam, Skye. He didn't ask her to help with the moat. He didn't ask her to find the seashells. He looked for you. He's a Thorne- we have a very good eye for what's real and what's just tinsel."
"You're sure she can't win?" Skye asked, her voice small.
"She already lost," Roman promised, his eyes flashing with a lethal, absolute certainty. "She lost the day I met you. There is no court in this world or the next that is going to take my son away from the woman who saved him, or take my woman away from the man who would burn every law to the ground to keep her."
He kissed her then- a deep, slow, and grounding kiss that tasted of salt and the night. It was a kiss that reaffirmed the hierarchy of his heart. Patricia was a legal nuisance, a ghost from a past life, but Skye was the air in his lungs.
Roman eventually pulled back, his hand sliding down to her hip, his thumb hooking into the silk of her nightgown. The possessive brute was back, his eyes dark with a different kind of intent.
"Tonight," Roman murmured, his voice a dark caress, "I'm going to make sure you forget that gold even exists. I'm going to remind you exactly who you are, and exactly whose bed you belong in."
He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her back into the warmth of the villa. He didn't look back at the ocean or the dock where Patricia had arrived. He only looked at Skye, the woman who had turned his fortress into a home.
As he kicked the glass door shut and the cool air of the suite enveloped them, Skye finally felt the jealousy melt away. Roman was a man of his word, a man of iron and ink, and he had just declared war on his own past to protect her. The chair wasn't being taken away; Roman was bolting it to the floor.
"Roman?" she whispered as he laid her back against the pillows.
"Yeah?"
"I love you. Even when you're being a bossy, arrogant brute."
Roman smirked, a real, dangerous flash of teeth. "Good. Because the brute isn't going anywhere. And neither are you."
He followed her down, his weight a heavy, comforting shield, and as the moon climbed higher over the Caribbean, the ghosts of Patricia and the Forest Kingdom were finally silenced by the sound of two hearts beating as one.