LOST WITH HIM

Him

Bella stood by the window of her cabin, arms locked around the edge of the couch as the yacht rolled beneath her. Her long black hair sat twisted in a high bun, though a few damp strands clung to her neck.

Twenty-four hours of continuous motion had left her stomach in revolt. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass and closed her eyes, willing the horizon to steady.

The trip itself felt like a private joke at her expense. Instead of a short flight to the coastal office, Liam Bradford had insisted on taking his newest acquisition, a vessel large enough to carry the entire executive staff. Eighteen people now drifted somewhere between open water and the next port, and Bella, his personal assistant of three years, remained the only one still green around the gills.

She was twenty-six, an orphan who had once sold designer suits for a living. Liam had walked into that store one afternoon, tall and severe, and left with both a perfectly fitted jacket and her phone number. Efficiency, he claimed, was rare.

Within a week she had a new title, a company car, and an entire floor of one of his city residences. The salary erased every old debt. The gifts that followed, quiet apologies for his sharper moments, only deepened the strange loyalty she felt toward him.

Loyalty, however, did not silence the quieter ache. Liam was forty, black-haired, sharply built, and impossible to ignore. He never dated in any lasting sense. Most mornings she arranged flowers for women whose names she learned only long enough to write on a card. She had told herself the crush would fade. It had not. It had simply learned to hide behind professional distance.

Her watch showed fifty minutes until the welcoming address. She left her cabin and walked the corridor with careful steps, knocking once on his door. No answer. Habit made her turn the handle.

The scene inside stopped her cold. Liam stood behind a blonde woman bent over the edge of his bed, moving with deliberate force. He did not stop when their eyes met. If anything he drove deeper, watching Bella's face the entire time. She whispered an apology, shut the door, and fled.

Back in her own room her hands trembled. Heat pulsed low in her body, unwanted and undeniable. She sat on the edge of the mattress and waited for the sensation to pass. Her phone buzzed.

Come.

She smoothed her skirt, steadied her breathing, and returned. This time she waited for the invitation before entering. Liam stood before the mirror buttoning a white shirt, the earlier encounter already erased from his expression.

"Good morning, sir."

"Morning, Bells." The nickname was soft, almost private.

"We have ten minutes before I speak."

She checked her watch again. "Closer to twelve, but yes."

He crossed the space between them. "Why won't you look at me?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"I'm sorry you walked in on that."

"It's fine sir ."

He studied her a moment longer, then nodded toward the door.

"Walk with me. The deck will clear your head."

They climbed the stairs together. The open air smelled of salt and diesel. Staff and executives already gathered near the rail, glasses of sparkling water in hand. Liam's cousin Marcus stood at the edge of the group, tablet in hand, directing placements with the same clipped authority he used in every meeting. Bella kept her distance.

Marcus had planned the entire itinerary and never missed a chance to remind her that she was only staff. When Liam was absent the remarks grew sharper, always delivered with a polite smile that never reached his eyes.

Liam stepped onto the raised platform at the bow. Conversation quieted at once.

"Thank you for joining me on the water," he began, voice carrying without effort. "Most of you know the ground we have already covered. Road fleets, commercial aviation, high-speed rail. Each division grew because we refused to treat movement as a finished problem. Today we look at the last open corridor. Maritime transport. Freight, passenger routes, specialized vessels. The boats you will board this afternoon belong to the first wave of that expansion. They are not prototypes. They are working assets. By the end of this quarter the company will hold contracts in three coastal regions. By next year the map will look different."

He spoke for twelve minutes, precise and unhurried. No one interrupted. When he finished, Marcus stepped forward to outline the afternoon schedule. Guests would travel in groups of four or five on the smaller craft. The final boat, a sleek two-seater, was reserved for the principal and his assistant.

Bella felt the weight of several glances. Marcus's voice remained smooth.

"Efficiency first. The principal prefers a direct transfer. The rest of us will follow in formation."

She said nothing. Liam simply turned and gestured for her to accompany him down the side stairs to the waiting tender. The smaller boat rocked gently against the yacht's hull. He stepped in first, then offered a steady hand.