Page 32 of Lost At Sea With A Billionaire

He actually laughed, which wasn’t the reaction I expected.“Says who?Some rulebook I don’t know about?”His hands cupped my face.“I don’t give a damn about what billionaires supposedly do.I care about you.About us.”

The conviction in his voice made my throat tight.“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”He kissed me softly.“So, let’s get off this island so I can prove it to you.”

After that,we worked together to reinforce the signal fire and establish a system to generate smoke quickly if needed.By sunset, we were both exhausted but satisfied with our preparations.

That night, as we lay in our shelter, watching the stars through gaps in the palm fronds, I allowed myself to imagine a future beyond the island—a future with Jonathan—not as employer and employee, but as equals sharing something real.

It was a dangerous indulgence, this hope.But as his arms tightened around me in sleep, I couldn’t help believing it might be possible.

Chapter10

Janet

“Isee something!”

Jonathan’s shout jolted me from where I’d been gathering shellfish at the edge of the tide, and weeks on the island had made me an expert at spotting the telltale signs of clams buried in the wet sand.

I straightened, shielding my eyes against the morning sun.“Where?”

He pointed toward the horizon.“There.Moving this way.”

At first, I saw nothing but the endless blue meeting the sky.Then I caught it—a dark speck against the water, gradually growing larger.

“Is it a boat?”My heart began to race.

“I think so.”Jonathan’s voice held a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.“Get the signal fire ready.I’ll grab the flares we salvaged.”

We sprang into action, our movements trained from the drills we’d run since spotting the plane.I piled green branches onto our signal fire, then struck the flint against steel to create a spark.The dry tinder caught immediately, and thick smoke billowed into the clear sky within minutes.

Jonathan returned with the emergency flares we’d retrieved from the yacht.“Not too soon,” he cautioned.“We need to make sure they’re looking this way.”

We watched, barely breathing, as the speck grew into a definite shape—a fishing boat, small but sturdy, heading on a course that would bring it within sight of our smoke.

“They must see it,” I said, anxiety making my voice higher than usual.“They have to.”

Jonathan’s hand squeezed mine tightly.“They will.”

But the boat continued on its path without changing direction.They hadn’t spotted us.

“Now,” Jonathan said, raising the flare gun.

The red streak shot high into the sky, bursting in a brilliant crimson cascade.We waited, our bodies tense.

The boat kept moving.

“No,” I whispered, disbelief turning to desperation.“No, no, no.”

Jonathan fired a second flare, his jaw set in determination.This time, the boat’s course shifted slightly, then more deliberately.

“They saw us!”I grabbed Jonathan’s arm.“They’re turning this way!”

The next thirty minutes were the longest of my life.We paced the beach, waving whenever the boat came clearly into view.Gradually, it grew from a small shape to a distinct vessel—an old fishing trawler with peeling blue paint.

When it was close enough for us to make out figures on deck, tears sprang to my eyes.After weeks of isolation, seeing other human beings seemed almost surreal.

“Hello!”A voice called through a megaphone.“We see you!Stay where you are!”

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