Nolan had never been one for half-measures, especially when it came to his woman. He had plucked her from the dreary cold of Chicago without warning, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her into the sky as if she weighed nothing. She barely had time to gasp before they were slicing through the clouds, the wind whipping past them. Within minutes, he had her in Hawaii, setting her down on the warm sand as if she were the most precious thing in existence. The sun beat down on her skin, the scent of saltwater filling her nostrils as the warm breeze carried the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

Everything had been arranged—private beaches, five-star service, and a suite that overlooked the endless blue of the ocean. She didn’t have to ask for anything because he provided. She was his, and he would see to her every need. But it wasn’t just about spoiling her. No, this was about removing distractions. This trip was about ensuring that she was utterly consumed by him, by his presence, his touch, his will. And he wanted—no, demanded—her full attention.

Yet even here, in this paradise he had carved out for her, his patience was tested. He could feel them watching her. Weak men, lesser creatures who thought they could admire what they could never have. He saw the way their eyes lingered when she walked past in a swimsuit, the barely concealed hunger on their faces. It was offensive. Did they think she was available? That she could be approached? Nolan made sure to stay close, his arm around her waist, his fingers pressing into her hip just hard enough to remind her who she belonged to. If any man dared to let his gaze linger for too long, a single look from Nolan sent them recoiling, suddenly very aware of how insignificant they were.