18. BELLA
18
BELLA
T he deck of the yacht gleamed under the light of the setting sun, each surface polished to a mirror-like shine that captured and reflected the golden glow. I moved through the yacht, my eyes scanning for imperfections—a smudge on the glass, a cushion slightly askew, anything that wasn’t as it should be.
Everything had to be perfect, and I wouldn’t accept anything less. Excellence. That was what it was all about. Otherwise, if I didn’t push for excellence in everything I did, what was the point?
Besides, my reputation was on the line, and the yacht was a reflection of my work. If I didn’t make sure everything was flawless, who would?
As I adjusted a vase of fresh flowers, I noticed Marco, one of the newer staff members, watching me nervously. “Is everything okay, Miss Rossi?”
I smiled at him, softening my otherwise critical demeanor. “It’s perfect, Marco. You’re doing a great job. Just remember to always check the glassware for fingerprints before service. Little details like that matter.”
He nodded, a look of relief washing over his face. “Of course, Miss Rossi. Thank you.”
I gave him an encouraging nod before moving on.
The staff respected me, and I liked to think it was because I balanced my expectations with warmth. I asked for a lot, but I never asked for more than I was willing to give myself. They were human, after all, and everyone made mistakes. I allowed them the grace that would only be fair. It was just—sometimes, I wished I could be a little less… intense. I wished I could relax and not feel like every little thing would come crashing down if it wasn’t exactly right.
But that wasn’t me. It had never been me, and lately, it felt like I had become even more serious about it.
People don’t change, they only become more so.
It looked like that applied to me, too. I sighed.
By the end of the staff’s shift, everything was in place, and I allowed myself a moment to breathe. I dismissed the staff, letting them go out and enjoy themselves. There was nothing else to do on the yacht, not until Chris came back.
If he came back tonight…
I pushed the thoughts of him staying out drinking or doing whatever else with whoever else out of my mind.
Stop it , I scolded myself. I was overthinking, letting my mind run away with me. I was turning this into a much bigger thing than it needed to be.
“Bella!” The familiar voice made my heart skip a beat.
I turned and Gigi stood on the dock, waving at me. Her wide smile and vibrant energy radiated off her.
“Oh, my God, G!” I cried out. “Come on board!” I beckoned for her to join me.
She looked effortlessly chic in a flowy sundress when she stepped onto the deck, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, sunglasses perched on her head.
I wrapped my arms around her. “What are you doing here?”
“Passing through Monaco,” she said with a grin. “I have a friend in Nice with a couch for me for the next day or two. I couldn’t come all this way and not see you.”
I laughed and hugged her again. “You have no idea how perfect your timing is. I happen to have the night off! Where are you staying?” I could let her stay with me in my cabin if she was willing to squeeze into my little bunk with me.
“Oh, I’m just passing through for now. But I’ll be back and then I promise I’ll stay the night, okay?”
I nodded. That worked for me. “I’m just happy to be able to spend time with you,” I said. “Have some wine with me. We can watch the sunset.”
“So romantic,” Gigi sighed. “I don’t know what it is about the sunsets out here. They just look like they’re dripping in gold.”
I nodded. That was the perfect way to describe it.
We sat at the bar on the upper deck where the first night’s soiree had been and I flashed on Chris, his assertive attitude around his peers and clients, and how Eli had been so charming… it had only been a couple of nights ago but it felt like I’d lived a whole lifetime since then.
The sun dipped below the horizon as we settled in at the wet bar, the soft glow of string lights casting a cozy ambiance over the deck. I poured us both a generous glass of wine. Gigi’s eyes twinkled.
“To old friends and unexpected visits,” she said, raising her glass.
“To old friends,” I echoed, clinking my glass against hers.
We sipped our wine, Gigi filling me in on her latest adventures—backpacking through the Italian countryside, getting lost in the streets of Barcelona, meeting a charming artist in Paris. Her stories made me laugh, and for a while, I let myself forget about everything else. It was just us, like it used to be.
I’d missed her, missed just hanging out and being carefree. But then, my life had never really been carefree, had it? I tried not to think about it.
As the wine flowed, the conversation inevitably shifted.
“So,” Gigi said as she studied me over the rim of her glass. “What’s going on with you? And don’t say ‘nothing’—I can see something’s up.”
I tried to brush it off, but Gigi knew me too well and she was just going to keep pushing until I told her. I had to talk to someone about it, anyway. And Gigi was the one person I trusted with my secrets, my emotions, my dreams and fears. My chest tightened, a lump rose in my throat, and before I knew it, tears spilled over my cheeks.
“Oh, Bella…” Gigi set her glass down, reaching across the table to take my hand. “Talk to me.”
I took a shaky breath, trying to hold it together but it was as if the dam wall had broken and my words came out in sobs and hiccups.
“It’s Chris,” I admitted. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing, G. He keeps pulling me in, and I’m hypnotized by him, and then he pushes me away, and I know I should just let him go. But then he pulls me in again and it’s this back and forth I can’t stop. I should protect myself, push him away, tell him that this is over for good. I just… can’t.”
Gigi squeezed my hand, her expression softening. “Oh, Bella. You’ve always had the biggest heart. But you have to guard it sometimes, you know? You can’t keep letting him hurt you.”
“I know,” I said, scrubbing angrily at my cheeks. I was irritated that I’d let myself fall apart. The wine had helped, of course. But still, I should have been able to hold it together. “I just can’t stop loving him, Gigi. It would be easier if he wasn’t the one, you know? But I can’t just let him go and forget about him. He keeps pulling me back into his orbit and then I’m screwed all over again.”
Gigi sighed, leaning back in her chair as she studied me.
“The one, huh?” She didn’t have her usual smirk or playful twinkle in her eyes. She understood how serious this was.
“I didn’t choose him to be,” I said softly. “In fact, it would have been really great if I didn’t feel anything for him at all. Maybe then I could get away, stop thinking about him, stop aching for him.”
Gigi was quiet for a while before she finally talked. “I get it. I really do. Love is complicated as fuck and it can really hurt us. But you deserve someone who’s going to love you back, without all the complications. Someone who isn’t going to keep playing with your feelings and trampling all over your heart. You deserve to be happy, Bella.”
I swallowed hard, the tears threatening to spill over again and I blinked a couple of times. “I just wish I knew what to do.” I sighed with a shudder. “And how to do it.”
Gigi gave me a sad smile. “You’ll figure it out. You always do. Just… be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt again. Chris has ripped you to shreds before and it wasn’t pretty. You don’t deserve to go through that again.”
I nodded, my heart heavy. “I’ll know. I’ll try.”
Gigi stayed a while longer, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as we tried to lighten the mood. I didn’t even have what it took to talk to her about Eli and how I felt about that—how charming he was and how I wished I could be with someone else without feeling guilty about not being with Chris. Hell, I hadn’t even done anything with Eli but flirt back and forth a little and I’d felt guilty about it.
And Chris and I weren’t anything—he sure as shit made it clear that we weren’t together.
All of that was a conversation for another time, and another bottle of wine.
By the time Gigi left, promising to visit again before she moved on to her next couch, I felt a little better. But the ache in my chest was still there, and now my head throbbed and my world spun a little but the tipsy part had already gone away.
It just made me feel like shit, the last of the goodness of being drunk having left with my friend.
After Gigi left, I stayed up, working on some admin tasks to sober up before bed. If I went to bed now, my head was going to hurt like a bitch in the morning, and I was going to feel horrible. Besides, the alcohol might have been wearing off but that didn’t mean that my mind stopped spinning with thoughts about Chris.
The yacht was quiet, and I let the familiar rhythm of work calm my mind. But even as I focused on the spreadsheets and schedules, my thoughts kept drifting back to Chris. To his touch, his voice, the way he looked at me when he let his guard down—and the way he pulled away when it mattered most.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. It was going to be a long night.