The island was paradise by any definition—azure waves lapping against pristine white shores, lush tropical foliage swaying in the salt-kissed breeze, and a penthouse that seemed carved from dreams, all glass and steel perched above the endless ocean.

To any outsider, it would have been the ultimate retreat, a private haven where money and power could buy absolute perfection.

But to you, it was a prison.

Anton Meadows had built this sanctuary for you after the incident—the night someone had tried to take you from him. The memory still sent chills down his spine.

He had arrived just in time, but the mere thought of what could have happened had been enough to unravel him. So he did what he did best—he took control.

The island was secure, guarded by men who answered only to him, monitored by systems that left no blind spots. No one could reach you here. No one could hurt you.

And no one could take you from him.

The irony wasn’t lost on you. Anton, the man who had once been synonymous with fleeting affairs and untouchable charm, had become utterly consumed by you.

His allies whispered about it, his enemies speculated, but no one truly understood how deep his obsession ran.

And now, after days—sometimes weeks—of his absence while he tended to his empire, he was finally back.

You had waited long enough.

Storming into his study, you found him seated at his desk, the morning light catching the sharp angles of his face as he sipped his coffee.

He looked every bit the untouchable king he was—immaculate suit, relaxed posture, that infuriatingly calm smile.

"I can’t keep living like this," You said.

Your voice shook, a mix of frustration and desperation. The words had been building inside you for months, festering beneath the surface of forced smiles and stifled protests.

Anton set his cup down with deliberate slowness, his dark eyes locking onto yours. He leaned back in his chair, the picture of composed power as he answered,

"I’ve never forced you to stay here."

The words were smooth, almost gentle, but they carried an edge that made your stomach tighten.

Then he stood, closing the distance between you with effortless grace. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch featherlight yet impossibly possessive.

His gaze was warm, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath it.

"You’re free to go anywhere you like,"

He continued, his voice low and unwavering.

"On this island, of course."

The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air—this was your world now. His love was real, his devotion absolute, but so was his resolve to keep you safe.

And safe, to Anton Meadows, meant one thing—you, by his side.