Page 12 of Lost At Sea With A Billionaire

“No.”I turned to face her directly.“I saw how you handled the situation.Everyone else panicked, abandoned their dishes, and complained to the judges.You adapted.You moved your fire to higher ground, elevated your ingredients on rocks, and used the rain as part of your sauce.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“You saw a problem and fixed it without drama,” I continued.“That’s rare.Most people fall apart when their plans disintegrate.”

“Like yacht vacations turning into shipwrecks?”She smirked.

“Exactly like that.”

She drew her knees up to her chest, wincing slightly.“So, you wanted me for my crisis management skills?That seems excessive for a two-week charter.”

I hesitated, unsure how to explain without sounding ridiculous.“My life runs on precision.Every meeting, every decision, every investment—all of it is calculated.I value people who maintain standards regardless of circumstances.”

“Control issues,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“You have control issues.”She didn’t phrase it as a question.“You surround yourself with people who won’t disrupt your precisely ordered world.”

Her directness caught me off guard.While most people tiptoed around me, careful not to offend the billionaire, Janet spoke to me as if I was anyone else.It was refreshing and maddening simultaneously.

“I prefer to call it discernment,” I said.

“Call it whatever you want.”She shrugged, then looked out toward the ocean.“Ironic that someone so focused on control would end up here.”

The observation stung more than it should have.After all, she was right.If I’d listened to the captain’s concerns about the weather instead of insisting we maintain our course, we might not be stranded.

“About that,” I said, turning to face her.“I owe you an apology.”

She raised an eyebrow.“For what?”

“The captain and crew warned me about the storm.I dismissed their concerns.I was so focused on making our arrival in Saint Barthélemy on schedule that I?—”

“That you made a bad call,” she finished for me.

“Yes.”

She studied me for a long moment.“At least you can admit it.”

“Does that earn me any points?”

“This isn’t a game, Jonathan.”But there was no real anger in her voice.“Though I suppose there are worse people to be stranded with than a control freak with survival training.”

I laughed.“Your ability to find humor in a disaster is another reason I hired you.”

“You hired me because I’m funny?”

“I hired you because you’re extraordinary.”

Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.The air between us shifted, charged even.

She broke contact first, clearing her throat.“We should go through the supplies again.Take inventory of what we have.”

“Right.”I welcomed the return to practicality.“Let’s be methodical.”

We spread our salvaged items on the tarp: first aid kit, water bottles, canned goods, my satellite phone, waterlogged and useless, her knife roll, rope, matches in a waterproof container, some clothing, a few blankets, and various other items we’d managed to rescue from the yacht.

“Not bad for a first salvage,” Janet said, organizing the food supplies.“Though we’ll need to find fresh water soon.These bottles won’t last more than a few days.”

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