Page 40 of Lost At Sea With A Billionaire

“I want to help you reopen,” he said suddenly.“When this is over.Whatever you need—capital, location scouting, business advice.”

I stiffened slightly.“I don’t need charity, Jonathan.”

“It’s not charity.”He turned to face me.“It’s an investment in something I believe in.Something I’ve experienced firsthand.”His voice softened.“But only if you want it.On your terms.”

I studied his face, looking for any sign of condescension or control.There was none—just earnest support, a deeper vulnerability that made my heart flutter.

“My terms?”I asked.

“Completely.Your vision, your menu, your space.”He smiled.“Though I hope I get a permanent reservation.”

The tension eased from my shoulders.“I might be able to arrange that.”Silence lingered between us.“You’ve changed,” I said softly.

His hand grabbed mine.“How so?”

“The Jonathan Black who demanded an audition on that yacht would never have offered help without strings attached.”

He was quiet for a long moment.“I thought I knew what mattered before.Success, control, expanding the company.”His fingers threaded through mine.“The island clarified things.”

“And now?”

“Now I know that all the success in the world means nothing if you don’t have someone to share it with.Someone who sees you—really sees you.”

“I see you.”

“I know you do.”He pulled me closer.“That’s why I’m falling in love with you.”

The words sent warmth spreading through my chest.“Falling?”

“Fallen,” he amended.“Completely.”

I stared at him.“I’m in love with you, too.”

I kissed him, pouring everything I felt into it.

“Let me take you to bed,” he murmured against my mouth.

“You never have to ask again.”

He swept me up in his arms and I was inundated with pleasure the moment he entered me with earth-shattering strokes.

Chapter13

Janet

Ten days into the search, they found a piece of the yacht’s hull floating nearly a hundred miles from where we’d been rescued.It was an unremarkable section of fiberglass and metal, but its discovery brought hope through the operation.

“This confirms we’re searching in the right area,” Hector told us during the morning briefing.“The currents carried it exactly as our models predicted.”

Jonathan studied the photographs, his brows dipped as his forehead creased.“What about the emergency raft?Did Captain Reynolds have access to one?”

“The primary raft was deployed with the crew,” Hector reminded him.“But there was a secondary emergency raft stored near the bridge.If he managed to reach it...”

I watched the calculations happening behind Jonathan’s eyes—the time elapsed, the odds of survival, the vastness of the search area still to cover.The board of directors had begun making noise about the cost of the operation, suggesting it had become a recovery mission rather than a rescue.Jonathan had shut them down immediately.

“We keep searching,” he said, now his voice leaving no room for debate.“Concentrate resources in this quadrant based on the hull fragment.”

For the past week, I’d been managing the support side of the operation, cooking for the search teams, and coordinating with the families of the recovered crew members.This had given me purpose and kept me from dwelling on the uncertain future awaiting Jonathan and me once this was over.

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