Page 33 of Lost At Sea With A Billionaire

Jonathan let out a laugh that was half relief, half disbelief.He turned to me, his eyes bright with emotion.“We’re getting off this island.”

My stomach clenched with conflicting feelings—joy at rescue, fear of what came next.“Yeah.”

His expression softened as he read my thoughts.He pulled me close, his voice low in my ear.“This changes nothing between us.Remember that.”

I nodded as a smaller boat detached from the fishing vessel and headed toward shore.Two men rowed steadily, their faces curious as they approached.

“Ahoy!”the older man called, his weathered face creased in a friendly smile.“Looks like you folks could use a ride.”

Jonathan helped them beach the small boat.“You have no idea how glad we are to see you.”

“Shipwrecked?”The younger man asked, eyeing what remained of the yacht offshore.

“A storm hit us weeks ago,” Jonathan explained.“We lost contact with our crew.”

The men exchanged looks.“You might be the folks they’ve been searching for,” the older one said.“There was a mayday about a luxury yacht going down.The Coast Guard’s been looking.”

Hope surged through me.“Did they find survivors?Our crew?”

“I heard they picked up some folks in a life raft about a week after the storm.Don’t know details.”He gestured to the radio on their boat.“Captain can call it in when we return to the main vessel.”

We gathered what little we wanted to take—my knife roll, Jonathan’s salvaged satellite phone, and a few personal items we’d managed to save.Looking at our camp, the shelter we’d built, and the kitchen I’d created, I felt an unexpected pang of sadness.

“Seems silly to be attached to this place,” I said quietly to Jonathan as we prepared to leave.“After wanting to escape for so long.”

He understood immediately.“It’s not silly.This became our home.”His hand brushed mine.“But we’re taking the important parts with us.”

The journey to the fishing boat took only minutes, but it felt like crossing into another world.As we climbed aboard, the Captain—a burly man with a salt-and-pepper beard—greeted us warmly.

“Orlando Martin,” he introduced himself.“Lucky we spotted your flare.We don’t usually come this far north.”

“Jonathan Black,” Jonathan replied, shaking his hand.“And this is Janet Banks.We can’t thank you enough.”

Recognition flashed across the Captain’s face.“Black?The pharmaceutical guy?”He let out a low whistle.“They’ve been looking for you, sir.Your company’s had search planes out for weeks.”

“We spotted a plane a few days ago,” I said.“It didn’t see us.”

“Let’s get you both some food and clean clothes,” Martin said.“Then we’ll radio your position.We should be able to get a helicopter out here by tomorrow.”

The crew providedus with too large but blissfully clean clothes and a hot meal that made my taste buds explode, considering the fish we’d eaten nonstop on the island.

“This is incredible,” I said to the ship’s cook, a friendly man named Eduardo.“The seasoning is perfect.”

He beamed at the compliment.“Just salt and pepper, Miss.Nothing fancy on this boat.”

“This is a five-star meal.”

While we ate, Captain Martin contacted the mainland.His expression was somber when he returned to the small kitchen where we sat.

“I got through to the Coast Guard,” he said.“They’ve confirmed your crew was picked up.Seven survivors in a life raft.”

Jonathan straightened.“Seven?We had eight crew members plus us.”

Martin nodded.“The Captain is still missing.They called off the official search last week.”

The joy of our rescue was instantly dimmed.Jonathan’s face hardened.“Called it off?Why?”

“Standard procedure after so much time, sir.Limited resources.”

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