The harsh wind cuts through my coat as I stand at the railing, staring out at the Gulf of Alaska. The waves crash against the hull of my yacht, a token of my wealth and power, yet utterly useless in finding the only thing that matters.

My missing wife.

It’s been 143 agonizing days since she quit me, leaving behind a void in my heart that grows deeper with each passing moment.

I should move on.

God knows I’ve tried.

But no one compares to her. There isn’t a woman alive who can rival Frankie’s natural beauty, ball-busting ferocity, and faithful devotion to those she loves. Not even close.

I should be at the office, running my global empire, but instead, I spend every waking hour on my yacht, which serves as a mobile command center in my obsessive search for her.

As it glides through the braying waters of the Gulf, I pore over marked-up maps with locations yet to be explored. Every island, every inlet, every remote corner of the Pacific Northwest is meticulously scrutinized, my team of experts working tirelessly to unravel the mystery of her disappearance.

My hunt isn’t limited to the physical landscape. I’m also combing through the depths of my memories, searching for any overlooked detail or forgotten conversation that might shed light on her whereabouts. Every argument, whispered confession, and moment of tenderness shared between us is dissected and analyzed as I strive to understand where she went.

Despite her justification for not wanting to be found, I should’ve located her by now. How has she evaded the resources I put into this five-month-long pursuit?

It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. If she simply ran, she would’ve left a trail, a clue, something.

Yet she vanished without a trace.

I’m not even thinking about how I will win her back. At this point, I just need some fucking proof of life.

I’ve enlisted the help of every contact, government agency, and connection I possess.

Private bush planes scour the Interior from Whittier to Utqiagvik. The Coast Guard District 17 sweeps forty-seven-thousand miles of shoreline throughout Alaska and the Arctic. The ABI is working diligently with all police agencies, maintaining an intrastate network of communication about her whereabouts.

My team of private investigators cast a countrywide net, utilizing facial recognition and public security cameras, leaving no stone unturned.

Somehow, she’s eluded thousands of resources.

Wilson, head of my private investigative team, checks in daily. His team leader, Sirena, remains at my side to manage the local operation.

Every day, it’s the same. No sightings, no clues, nothing to indicate where Frankie might have gone or what could have happened to her. It’s as if she vaporized into the mist, leaving me to wonder if she ever truly existed at all.

The night she left, the security system in our mansion didn’t detect breaches. No alarms sounded, and the motion detectors outside failed to register movement. She cut the power to them after our employees left for the day.

No one witnessed her departure.

No evidence of foul play or assistance from an outside party, either.

She docked her boat in our slip in Sitka and…what? Walked away on foot?

It’s inconceivable.

She’s always been resourceful, but to leave me in the dark like this? Without a phone call or a message or any sign of life? That’s not her. She’s too kindhearted. Thoughtful. Compassionate. Even for the asshole who broke her heart.

The Frankie I know would’ve found an untraceable way to tell me she’s okay. Especially in her condition.

She would be six months into her pregnancy now.

I clutch at the railing, feeling the weight of despair pressing down on me. She left behind her phone, her wedding ring, but took clothing and documents necessary for survival.

Effectively severing all ties to me.

Fine. I get it. But where did she go after she docked her boat?

Search parties have covered every inch of the Sitka Sound, assuring me she didn’t fall into the dark depths that night and drown.

But something happened. I feel it in my bones.

Across the deck, Sirena emerges from the companionway, her seductive gaze instantly latching onto mine.

Christ.

When Wilson agreed to provide a local team of investigators to assist in my search, I was pleased. Then I met the team leader.

Sirena is stunning, with her long, flowing, dark hair and piercing blue eyes that seem to hold the secrets of the ocean depths. Her unrestrained, flirtatious personality provides levity to my otherwise sour mood. Her intelligence and efficiency have been invaluable in managing the details during this tumultuous time. And her elegant body…

I catch myself stealing glances at her, admiring the graceful curve of her neck, the way the sunlight soaks into her golden complexion. Her presence is a comforting distraction from my relentless ache for Frankie.

Too comforting.

It’s a dangerous game, one that threatens to betray the vows I made to my wife.

Again.

My affair with Aubrey sickens my stomach. It was a moment of weakness, born of loneliness and rage. I was so fucking angry with Frankie when she left. I couldn’t stop picturing her in her happy new life, carrying our baby, and sleeping with other men.

I went to a dark place, drank too much, and fucked my office manager, which only served to deepen the chasm of despair that separates me from my irreplaceable wife.

My infidelity cost Aubrey her job. I couldn’t look at her without feeling sick. So I let her go, vowing never to hire another attractive assistant, office manager, or co-worker again.

Then Sirena showed up.

She makes her way to me, hips swaying and mouth curving into a red-painted smile, shooting a jolt of electricity through my gloomy fog.

“Quite the view, isn’t it?” Her voice, low and sultry, strokes between my legs.

“Indeed.” I tear my gaze away, setting it on the horizon. “But I find that the true beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.”

“Smooth, as always.” She giggles softly, a melodious sound. “But I have to admit, it’s hard to compete with the splendor of nature.”

Frankie, gloriously nude and spread out before me, is the splendor of nature. I miss the authentic perfection of her body, her subtle curves without augmentation or surgeries, her natural red hair, and makeup-free ivory skin.

Fuck, I just…miss her.

“Nature may have its charms,” I murmur, “but there’s something undeniably captivating about the human form.”

“You do have a way with words.” Her laughter swirls with the wind, the salty tang of the sea.

She reaches out to brush a lock of hair from my face, her fingers lingering, stirring a conflicting surge of hunger within me.

We’ve spent too much time together, too many days at sea in close proximity, and too many nights in the cabins below with only a thin wall between us. Her glances and touches grow bolder. In the midst of my anguish, it’s a temptation I find difficult to resist.

It would be so fucking easy. She wants me, and eventually she’ll throw herself at me.

She’s not the first, nor will she be the last. The world is full of eager admirers drawn to my wealth, my dominance, and the magnetic pull of my presence.

I’ve fucked them all.

Despite the countless opportunities that present themselves, each encounter only serves to magnify the emptiness gnawing at my soul. The hollow ache of loneliness, like a persistent shadow, follows me wherever I go, a constant reminder of Frankie’s absence.

It’s a cruel irony to be surrounded by adoration and desire yet feel utterly alone. Sirena, with her beauty and charm, is a fleeting distraction, a temporary salve for the wounds that refuse to heal.

But she’s not the one I want.

I want the woman who turned me down a dozen times, who wouldn’t give me the time of day or fuck me on our first date. I want the only one who never chased me, who made me work for her attention for a goddamn year, the only one I pursued and wooed and crawled on my knees to win.

I’m haunted by the ghost of the woman who left me.

So while the tantalizing prospect of fucking Sirena over this railing whispers seductively in my mind, I know that to give in would be to betray the one person who truly holds my heart.

I already betrayed her once, and the guilt festers like an incurable STD.

“I know you have a lot on your mind.” She leans into my side, her breath warm against my neck. “I can make you forget everything but the present moment.”

“As tempting as that may be…” With a tight smile, I step back, yanking away from her touch. “My heart belongs to my wife.”

“I know.” Her expression softens, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “But you are…” She looks me up and down and sighs. “Fucking gorgeous. A girl can dream, can’t she?”

“She can.” I turn back to the maps on the credenza behind me. “We’re here to find Frankie. She’s the only dream I want.”

“Right. Of course.” She straightens, blinks, and assumes the role she came here to do, joining me to peer at the maps. “It would help if you told me why we’re headed to this particular island.”

I’m not accustomed to explaining myself. With more money than God, I get what I want, when I want it.

But this…this will require a little transparency. And a lot of delicacy.

I pace the deck, my footsteps echoing with the words I haven’t spoken in years.

“My father, an oligarch whose wealth and power knew no bounds, presided over the largest construction company in the Pacific Northwest.”

“An oligarch?” She arches a stenciled brow. “Like from Russia?”

“Yes. I was born there. My parents moved to Alaska when I was a baby.”

What I won’t tell her is that my mother was pregnant with my brother, and the construction company was just a facade for the obscene billions of dollars my family hid away in offshore accounts, every cent tainted by corruption and deceit.

My family’s history is littered with secrets too dark to bear.

“Why did they leave Russia?” She leans a hip against the credenza.

“Business conflicts.”

They feared for their lives. My parents often whispered about threats from criminal organizations, political rivals, and powerful government entities. My father, Rurik Strakh, was embroiled in legal disputes and perceived as a tyrant in Russia. No doubt he earned that claim. He didn’t play by the rules. He was ruthless, lawless, and power-hungry.

“My parents died in a plane crash.”

She grimaces. “I’m sorry.”

“It was many years ago.”

By then, I had already cut ties with them, shedding my given name like a snake shedding its skin. My brother’s death caused the rift between my parents and me. I needed to be free of them, determined to forge a new path, with a new name, to build my own legacy disconnected from the contamination of theirs.

For years, I buried the memories of my parents and brother. I kept my secrets hidden from everyone, even my most trusted confidants.

Even my wife.

I went as far as implementing a prenuptial agreement, so the poison of my inheritance couldn’t touch her.

But now, faced with the possibility of never seeing her again, I find myself confronting the skeletons of my past.

Has she uncovered my family’s crimes? Did I whisper gruesome secrets in my sleep? Leave a confidential document or email unguarded? Reveal something during our conversations?

If she somehow learned where I grew up and what I buried there, she may have felt compelled to check it out, to see it with her own eyes.

It’s a long shot, I know, but desperation has a way of sharpening one’s instincts, and I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to her disappearance.

So I set a course for Kodiak Island, the yacht slicing through the waves with steadfast purpose. If I want Sirena’s help, I need to give her a valid reason for this detour.

Pausing at the railing, I return my attention to the woman whose eyes cling to mine with persistent longing.

Temptation.

I steel myself against it, the siren song of her lust, and focus on the only thing worth fighting for. Until Frankie is back in my arms, I’ll endure the torment of loneliness.

“I inherited my family’s construction company and my childhood home on Kodiak Island. I failed to mention its existence to Frankie, but maybe she discovered it. No one lives at the estate. A few times a year, I send people to tend to it, but it’s otherwise abandoned.”

It’s the priciest property in the 49th state, sitting atop a scenic cliff overlooking Settlers Cove. It’s so big and tucked away that my private island in Sitka could fit in one of its inlets. With private beaches, rugged coastlines, pristine acreage, and spectacular ocean views, it would be easy to hide there.

Exactly why my parents chose that location.

I could send a search party, but I know that island like the back of my hand. An island fraught with depraved memories, a reminder of the life I left behind when I severed ties with my family.

If she’s there, hiding in the carnage of my past, I need to be the one to find her.

For Frankie’s sake, I’ll follow this path to its conclusion, no matter where it may lead, even if my sins come crashing down around us.

“Okay.” Sirena nods and turns back to the maps. “We’ll start with the estate. Do you have a layout of the property?”

“Yes. Here.” As I shuffle through documents and maps, my resolve grows stronger, fueled by the unwavering belief that one day, I’ll hold Frankie in my arms once more.

I’m tired of waiting. Tired of the uncertainty, the doubt, the gnawing ache of not knowing. I need her. More than anything, I need her.

Every shadow holds a secret, every shiver of wind an echo of her name. I’ll search every inch of Kodiak island, every hidden cave and secluded cove, hoping against hope to find some sign of her.

I won’t rest until she’s back by my side, where she belongs.