Page 15 of Lost At Sea With A Billionaire (Billionaire Row #5)

Janet

T en 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.

I’d also begun sketching plans for a new restaurant—tentative ideas for menus, layouts, and concepts. Jonathan had noticed the drawings on the desk in the guest room I used as an office but hadn’t commented, respecting my need to work through these ideas independently.

After the briefing, I found him in his office, reviewing reports from his company. The pharmaceutical business hadn’t stopped during our absence, and he worked double time to catch up while continuing to lead the search efforts.

“You should eat something,” I said from the doorway.

He glanced up, the tired lines around his eyes softening when he saw me. “Is it that late already?”

“It’s past two. You missed lunch.”

“I got caught up in these quarterly projections.” He rubbed his eyes. “The interim CEO made some questionable decisions while I was gone.”

I moved behind his chair, my hands working at the knots in his shoulders. “Anything serious?”

“Nothing irreparable. But he shelved the program to expand access to our antibiotics in developing countries. It was my priority project.”

I continued massaging his tense muscles. “Can you restart it?”

“Already did. First thing this morning.” He leaned back into my touch. “That feels amazing.”

“You’re carrying all your stress here.” I pressed my thumbs into a particularly tight spot, making him groan. “You need to rest.”

“I will. When we find Reynolds.”

“And if that takes another month?”

His shoulders tensed again under my hands. “It won’t.”

I moved around to perch on the edge of his desk, facing him. “Jonathan, I need to ask you something, and I want an honest answer.”

Wariness crept into his expression. “Alright.”

“Is this still about guilt, or is it something more?”

He was quiet for a long moment, considering. “It started as guilt,” he admitted finally. “But now... It’s about doing what’s right. What I should have done from the beginning—listen to the experts, make decisions based on what’s best for everyone, not just what I want.”

I reached for his hand. “You’ve learned that lesson. Everyone can see it.”

“But at what cost? Reynolds might have lost his life because I was too stubborn to change course.”

“Or he might still be out there, and you’re the only one who hasn’t given up on him.” I squeezed his fingers. “That matters, Jonathan.”

Greg appeared in the doorway, his expression unusually animated. “Sir, there’s a call you need to take. Team Alpha just reported a sighting.”

Jonathan was on his feet instantly. “What kind of sighting?”

“Debris field with what appears to be a partially inflated raft. And they think they saw movement.”

My heart jumped to my throat as Jonathan grabbed the phone, activating the speaker so I could hear.

“This is Black. Talk to me.”

The voice that came through was distorted by the wind and the boat’s engine. “Sir, we’ve spotted what appears to be an emergency raft about two miles east of our position. It’s partially submerged, but we can see someone on it.”

“Alive?” Jonathan’s fist tightened around the phone.

“Unknown at this distance. We’re approaching now.”

The next fifteen minutes were the longest of my life. Jonathan paced the office, periodically demanding updates while the boat maneuvered closer to the raft. I sat frozen, hardly daring to breathe.

Finally, the radio crackled. “We have visual confirmation. One male, Caucasian, severely dehydrated but conscious. Matches the description of Captain Reynolds.”

Jonathan’s eyes closed briefly, his exhale shaky. “Get him on board immediately. Full medical protocol. I want a helicopter for medical evacuation as soon as he’s stable.”

“Already in progress, sir.”

Jonathan put down the phone and turned to me, his expression a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. “They found him. He’s alive,” he said.

I stood on unsteady legs and crossed to him. “You did it. You never gave up.”

He pulled me in an embrace so tight, it nearly crushed the breath from my lungs. “We did it,” he corrected, his voice was rough with emotion.

In the next few hours, Reynolds was airlifted directly to the hospital, where a medical team was waiting. Jonathan insisted on being there when he arrived, and I went with him, unwilling to let him face this moment alone.

The Captain was barely recognizable—his skin burned and blistered from sun exposure, his body emaciated from weeks with minimal food and water. But his eyes were alert as they wheeled him in, scanning the room until they landed on Jonathan.

“Black,” he croaked, his voice a dry whisper. “Knew you’d...look for me.”

Jonathan moved to his side, his composure nearly breaking. “I should have listened to you about the storm. I’m sorry.”

Reynolds managed a weak shake of his head. “It’s part of the job.” His cracked lips attempted a smile. “You both...made it.”

“Thanks to Janet,” Jonathan said, glancing at me. “She kept us alive on that island.”

The doctors intervened then, insisting they needed to stabilize the Captain. As they wheeled him away, Jonathan remained rooted to the spot, watching until the doors closed behind them.

“He doesn’t blame me,” he said quietly.

“Of course, he doesn’t. He’s a professional who understands the risks of his position.” I took his hand. “Just like you need to understand that accidents happen, even to people who are used to controlling everything.”

A small smile touched his lips. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

The search team gathered at the penthouse that night for an impromptu celebration. The relief was palpable—not just because Reynolds had been found alive against all odds but because the uncertainty had finally lifted.

I watched Jonathan move through the gathering, thanking each team member personally and making sure they understood how vital their contribution had been. This was another side of him I’d come to appreciate—the leader who recognized and valued every person’s role, not just those at the top.

Hector raised his glass in a toast. “To Mr. Black, who refused to accept impossible odds.”

“And to Captain Reynolds,” Jonathan added. “The toughest son of a bitch on the seven seas.”

“Hear! Hear!”

After the guests had left, Jonathan and I stood on the balcony, the night breeze cool against our skin. The search boats were returning to port, and their mission was complete.

“What happens now?” I asked, voicing the question that had been hovering between us for days.

Jonathan’s arm tightened around my waist. “What do you want to happen?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m serious.” He turned to face me. “What do you want, Janet? Not what you think is realistic or practical, but what you truly want.”

I took a deep breath. “I want to reopen my restaurant. On my terms, creating the food I believe in.”

He nodded. “And personally?”

The sincerity in his eyes gave me courage. “I want to be with you. But not as an accessory or a charity case. As a partner.”

“You would never be a charity case,” he said firmly. “What happened between us on that island wasn’t because we were stranded with no other options. It was real. It is real.”

“But our lives are so different, Jonathan.”

“So? I don’t want to be with someone exactly like me. That would be boring as hell.” He took my hands in his. “I want you, stubborn, talented, passionate you. The woman who tells me when I’m being an ass and forces me to see beyond my perspective.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “I do that a lot, don’t I?”

“And I need it.” His expression grew serious. “I love you, Janet. Island or mainland, rich or broke, CEO or chef—none of that matters. What we found together, that connection, that’s what I care about.”

The earnestness in his voice made my doubts recede. “I love you, too.”

Jonathan’s hands framed my face, his eyes locked with mine. “Then let’s build something together - without rushing or following anyone else’s timeline. Just us, figuring it out day by day.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m committed to you. To us.” His voice deepened with conviction. “I want to be part of your restaurant’s rebirth. I want you by my side when I launch the foundation for medical access. I want Sunday mornings cooking breakfast together and falling asleep to the sound of your breathing.”

My heart swelled. “You’ve given this some thought.”

“Every day since we washed up on that shore.” His thumb traced my lower lip. “I don’t know what the future holds exactly, but I know I want to face it with you. No pressure, no timetable—just the promise that I’m all in.”

I pressed my palm against his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat. “I’m all in, too.” The city lights twinkled below us, a constellation of beauty wrapping the night sky.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said, leaning into his embrace. “Day by day.” His lips brushed my temple.

“Starting tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, a smile warming his voice, “I’m taking you to see a restaurant space I think you’ll love.”

I pulled back to look at him. “You’ve been scouting locations?”

“Just options. The final decision is all yours.”

“You really are serious about this. About us.”

“More than I’ve ever been about anything.” Jonathan pulled me close again, his certainty wrapping around me like a promise.