Bellamy POV
“Come on, Bellamy, let’s go,” Tristan said softly, placing his hand gently on the small of my back as Max’s boat bobbed against the dock.
I glanced over at him, still feeling the ghost of what almost happened between us. The almost-kiss. The almost-confession. The almost-everything.
I nodded, clutching my bag and walking beside him. We stepped onto the boat where Max stood, arms crossed, sunglasses still on like he belonged on the cover of Billionaire Adventurer Monthly.
“Glad to see you two survived,” Max said smoothly, eyes flicking from Tristan to me, then back again. “And you didn’t kill each other in the process.”
“We tried,” Tristan muttered, brushing past him without another word.
Max gave me a look. “I take it the hospitality was lacking?”
I forced a smile. “It was… memorable.”
He chuckled and nodded toward the back of the boat. “Come. You can rest in my room until we reach the city. You look exhausted.”
I hesitated, glancing at Tristan, who was already helping the boatman haul supplies onboard. He didn’t look back. Not once.
So I nodded and followed Max inside.
His room on the boat was sleek and perfectly curated—like everything Max owned. Crisp white sheets, soft lighting, the faint scent of cedar and cologne lingering in the air. It was small but luxurious, with a round window that overlooked the endless ocean.
“You can sleep here,” Max said, placing a bottle of water on the nightstand. “I’ll stay out of your way.”
“Thanks,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. My body was aching, my thoughts a mess, and the emotional whiplash of the past few days was finally catching up to me.
I lay down, eyes fluttering shut, the hum of the boat rocking me into a slow, dreamless sleep.
When I woke up, everything was quiet.
The hum of the boat still purred softly beneath me, but the room was still, the sunlight spilling gently through the window in golden streaks.
I stretched slightly, blinking away the blur of sleep. My skin felt warm. My body still sore from stress and saltwater and silence.
And then—I felt it.
A light pressure on my forehead.
I opened my eyes.
Max.
He was kneeling beside the bed, his face close—too close—and he had just kissed my forehead.
He smiled when he saw my eyes open.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, voice low and sweet, like silk laced with something dangerous.
I froze.
My breath caught in my chest. My heart beat faster—not because of the kiss or his words, but because something about it felt… off.
He was looking at me the way men look at something they already think they own. Like I was a shiny toy he’d rescued from the sea.
“Sorry,” he added. “Didn’t mean to wake you. You just looked… peaceful.”
I sat up slowly, brushing my hair behind my ear. “How long was I out?”
“A few hours,” he said, standing up now, brushing invisible lint from his pressed shirt. “You were tired. Can’t blame you. That storm sounded brutal.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, my eyes drifting toward the window. “It was.”
Max sat across from me on the small built-in couch near the wall, his legs crossed. “I was worried about you, you know. When I couldn’t reach you two. I had a team ready to start a search.”
I nodded slowly. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course I came,” he said with a soft smile. “You matter, Bellamy.”
I looked at him. His face. His eyes. The same eyes as Tristan, but it wasn’t the same. Because as I sat there, watching Max look at me like I was the center of his world…
I felt nothing.
No butterflies. No heat rushing to my cheeks. No ache in my chest.
It wasn’t like Tristan.
Tristan, who challenged me. Tristan, who saw through my sarcasm. Tristan, who looked at me like I was complicated but worth unraveling. Tristan, who wrapped my burned hand like I was breakable but strong.
With Max, I felt like a prize.
With Tristan, I felt like a person.
Max leaned forward slightly. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly, faking a smile. “Just tired.”
“Well, get used to comfort again,” he said, rising to his feet. “We’ll be docking soon. We’ll get you settled.”
I nodded again, but my thoughts weren’t on docking. They were spinning.
How can two men with the same face make me feel such different things?