Page 216 of One Bossy Disaster

“Not sure yet, sir.”

“Fuck,” I curse and spin away, looking out at the slashing expanse of waves through the window.

The storm is far from done, and if we’ve sustained serious damage already, it could easily put us down before any rescue ships ever locate us.

“I need to go. I’ll give you another update in ten. Hold tight, Mr. Foster,” Juan says, barking a few more orders to his men as he walks away.

I slam the door shut, then pinch the bridge of my nose and inhale sharply.

Destiny comes to stand beside me, her fingers toying restlessly with something at her collar. When I look across, I see it’s the tiny black turtle necklace she always wears.

I’m annoyed that I never bothered to find out why it’s so special.

“I hope that thing brings us luck,” I say, nodding at it.

Her eyes darken and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“It’s more of a memento—and honestly, seeing how the original necklace got stolen years ago and this is a replacement from my stepmom... the turtle might be bad luck.”

Well, shit, how comforting.

The look she gives me next is so broken.

I want to sweep her into my arms more than anything. Hell, I’ll trade my life for the guarantee she’ll make it out of this okay.

But I can’t cause more turmoil, more confusion, more pain.

Not now.

I can’t even find the words to tell her I love her.

Especially when I’ve hurt her a whole lot more than losing that necklace did, and that’s not something I can just come back from.

In the distance, the sky churns, sending more rain and wind and waves at the ship, though ever so slightly less angry than before.

Why does this feel like a break before it worsens, though?

“So this is it?” Destiny rubs her arms, wearing a determined look. “I guess we just need to grin and hope for the best.”

Yeah, fuck.

I guess.

I also want to erase that vulnerable hurting look that’s still clouding her eyes. I want to kiss her one more time.

She can try to hide it, but I know why it’s there.

I read her body better than my own.

Her hands are balled up, her knuckles white.

Her eyes are empty and scared.

Her breath comes too fast, no matter how much she tries to control it.

Her gaze doesn’t settle anywhere for long, bouncing between the oncoming storm out the windows, the heightened wind, and me.

But there’s so much determination in the tilt of her chin and the tightness of her brows.

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