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We stay tangled together until room service arrives, content to simply exist in this peaceful bubble we’ve created. The rest of the world—with all its complications and dangers—feels very far away.

Right now, there’s just us, the sound of waves, and the promise of many more moments like this to come.

It’s more than enough.

It’s everything.

The gentle breezefrom the ocean blanketing our private deck mingles with Zeke’s steady heartbeat beneath my ear. His chest rises and falls in a hypnotic rhythm as his fingers trace lazy patterns across my bare skin. The Maldivian sun warms us both, though the latticed roof of our villa provides enough shade to keep us comfortable as we lounge naked on the oversized daybed.

Paradise. The word floats through my mind, perfectly capturing this moment. Our first real vacation together, just the two of us. No mafia threats, no cases, no responsibilities beyond deciding which pristine beach to explore or which magnificent sunset to watch. Leo is safe with Lydia and her girls, probably having the time of his life if the excited texts and photos are any indication.

“Olive?” Zeke’s deep voice rumbles through his chest as he offers me another plump green olive from the plate balanced on his thigh.

I accept it with my teeth, letting my lips brush against his fingers longer than necessary. His sharp intake of breath makesme smile. I love that the smallest touches can ignite that spark between us.

“Tease,” he says, but there’s nothing but affection in his tone.

“You love it,” I counter, shifting to press a kiss to his jaw. His beard, slightly longer than usual after days of vacation relaxation, tickles my lips.

“Mmm.” His hand slides up my spine, drawing those delicate circles that make me melt against him. “I love everything about you.”

The simple honesty in his voice makes my heart skip. There was a time when such declarations seemed impossible—when I was just a divorced cop trying to piece her life back together, and he was the mysterious club owner who ghosted me after a few intense dates. Now here we are, married and stronger for all the chaos we’ve weathered together.

“Even when I’m being difficult?” I think of our heated arguments about justice and morality, about the lines between right and wrong we’re still learning to navigate.

“Especiallywhen you’re being difficult.” He reaches for a piece of aged gouda, holding it to my lips. “Your fire is one of the first things that drew me to you. Remember that night at the club when you stood up to me? Refused to be intimidated?”

I accept the cheese, savoring the sharp, complex flavor as memories of that night flood back. “You were so angry about having a cop in your club.”

“I was terrified,” he corrects softly. “Terrified because I already knew you were dangerous to me. Not because you were a cop, but because you made mefeelthings I thought I’d buried for good.”

Warmth blooms through my chest. These quiet moments of vulnerability are still rare, precious things between us. Both of us carry so many scars, so many layers of protective armor builtup over years of trauma and loss. But here, in this peaceful bubble we’ve created, those walls seem easier to lower.

“And now?” I prop myself up on an elbow to study his face, taking in the laugh lines around his eyes, the silver threading through his salt and pepper beard, the way he looks at me like I’m something precious.

“Now you’re still the most dangerous woman I know.” His lips quirk up in that crooked smile I love. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I lean in to kiss him properly, tasting olives and cheese and something uniquelyZekethat never fails to make my pulse race. His hand cups the back of my neck, holding me close as he deepens the kiss with a hunger that matches my own.

When we finally break apart, both slightly breathless, his eyes have darkened with familiar heat. But instead of acting on it, he reaches for something under his pillow.

“I have something for you.”

“Zeke.” I start to protest. He’s already spoiled me enough on this trip—the private villa, the candlelit dinners on the beach, the sunrise yoga sessions that inevitably turn into sunrise lovemaking.

“Hush.” He produces a small velvet box, midnight blue against his palm. “Let me do this.”

My breath catches as he opens it, revealing a ring that makes my eyes go wide. The center diamond is enormous, easily three carats, with smaller stones cascading down the platinum band in an intricate vintage-inspired design. It catches the afternoon light, throwing rainbow prisms across our skin.

“Zeke!” I breathe, torn between awe and practicality. “It’s beautiful, but—”

“But nothing.” He takes my left hand, where his wedding band already rests. “I know we did everything backwards—theforced marriage, falling in love after, making it real. You never got a proper engagement ring.”

“I don’t need—”

“I know you don’t need it.” He slides the ring onto my finger, where it settles like it was made for me. Which, knowing Zeke, it probably was. “But I want you to have it. Want everyone to see that you’re mine, that we chose each other despite everything trying to keep us apart.”

I stare at the ring, as it sparkles. It’s stunning, but also completely impractical for my line of work. “I can’t wear this on duty,” I warn him. “It’ll get in the way when I’m drawing my weapon, and SVU cases aren’t exactly jewelry-friendly.”