Chapter 7
POV: AMBER
The dock creaks softly under my heels.
Salt air fills my lungs.
The marina buzzes with quiet activity—crew members moving equipment, investors chatting near the railings, cameras and drones being unloaded onto the sleek white yacht waiting at the end of the pier.
It’s bigger than I expected.
Shiny.
Impressive.
Floating.
My stomach twists.
God.
I hate boats.
I slow my steps without meaning to.
Alexander doesn’t.
He’s already shifting into command mode as we approach the group.
“Good morning,” he greets one of the crew members, clapping him on the shoulder. “Luis, right?”
The man grins.
“Good memory, sir.”
Alexander gestures toward the drone equipment.
“You brought the new stabilization rig?”
“Of course.”
“Perfect. We’ll start with wide aerial shots before we move closer to the coastline.”
People listen when he talks.
Really listen.
Crew members nod immediately, moving to adjust cameras and cases.
Someone from the production team waves.
“Alex! We’ve got the second drone ready.”
“Great,” he says without missing a beat. “Let’s keep the launch point clear.”
Another investor approaches, shaking his hand.
“Mr. Fitzgerald.”
“Call me Alex.”
He greets everyone like he’s known them for years.
And the strangest part is… he probably does.
He remembers names.
Faces.
Details.
The yacht rocks gently against the dock.
A small movement.
Barely noticeable.
But my body locks instantly.
The sound of water slapping softly against the hull crawls up my spine.
My pulse spikes.
No.
Not now.
I force myself to breathe.
The gangway stretches from the dock to the yacht’s deck.
One simple step.
That’s all it is.
One step.
But my feet refuse to move.
The smell of salt hits me harder.
And suddenly—
I’m not here anymore.
I’m ten years old again.
Claire’s laughter ringing across the beach.
The sun warm on our shoulders as we run across the sand.
She was my neighbor.
My best friend.
Same age as me.
We spent every summer together.
Climbing rocks.
Collecting shells.
Building ridiculous sandcastles that the tide always destroyed.
That day her parents took us swimming.
The ocean had looked calm.
Friendly.
Claire had been laughing when she spotted the shell.
“I want it!” she shouted.
It floated just beyond the shallow water.
“Claire, come back,” I told her.
But she kept going.
“I’m almost there!”
The shell drifted farther.
The water getting deeper.
“Claire!”
She waved at me.
Then the wave came.
Sudden.
Hard.
And she disappeared.
I ran after her.
I remember the cold water swallowing my legs.
My chest tightening.
“Claire!”
She surfaced once.
Panicking.
Then she grabbed me.
And suddenly we were both drowning.
Salt water filling my mouth.
My lungs burning.
The sky spinning above me—
The lifeguards reached us.
They pulled me out.
I remember coughing.
Crying.
Screaming Claire’s name.
But they couldn’t save her.
After that day…
I never went back into the ocean.
Not really.
Even when Alexander was surfing as a teenager, I stayed on the sand.
Watching him from the beach.
Feet buried in warm sand while the waves roared just meters away.
The ocean had taken something from me.
And it never gave it back.
The yacht rocks again.
My hands start trembling.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
But the gangway in front of me feels like a cliff.
“Amber.”
Alexander’s voice cuts through the noise.
I blink.
He’s standing right in front of me now.
Close.
His green eyes scan my face once.
Then the gangway.
Then back to me.
Understanding flashes instantly across his expression.
“Oh, my—”
He exhales sharply and closes his eyes for a second, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.
“Shit.”
When he looks at me again, his voice is lower.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
The words are firm.
Not judgmental.
Concerned.
“Go back to the hotel.”
I blink.
“What?”
“I’ll take care of everything,” he says quietly. “The investors, the footage, the whole shoot.”
His gaze softens slightly.
“You don’t need to do this.”
My chest tightens.
Part of me wants to run.
God, I want to run.
But this project is mine.
I lead it.
I can’t disappear the first time things get difficult.
I force myself to inhale slowly.
“No.”
His eyebrows lift.
“Amber—”
“I’m leading this project,” I say, my voice shaky but determined. “I’m getting on that boat.”
His jaw tightens.
“Are you sure?”
Am I?
My stomach churns.
My hands feel numb.
But I nod anyway.
“Yes.”
He studies my face for another long moment.
Then he sighs quietly.
“Alright.”
He steps closer and offers his hand.
“Slowly.”
The gangway sways slightly beneath my feet as I step forward.
My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure everyone can hear it.
Alexander stays right beside me.
One hand hovering near my waist, ready in case I lose my balance.
The moment my foot touches the yacht deck, my stomach flips violently.
I grab the railing instinctively.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Alexander turns toward the investors.
“Give us a minute,” he says calmly.
Someone tries to ask him a question.
He lifts a finger.
“One minute.”
Then he disappears down the lower deck.
I blink in confusion.
Where did he—
A minute later he’s back.
A small bottle of water in one hand.
Two pills in the other.
He stops in front of me and holds them out.
“For the nerves,” he says quietly.
Then he lifts the bottle slightly.
“Sparkling.”
I stare at it.
Of course it’s sparkling.
Of course he remembers that too.
Heat creeps up my neck.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I take the pills and swallow them quickly.
The cool bubbles of the water settle my stomach slightly.
Alexander leans closer, his voice dropping.
“I told them the CEO needed a moment before we start.”
My eyes widen.
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
One corner of his mouth lifts.
“Bought you a few minutes.”
Then he straightens.
And just like that, the Alexander Fitzgerald everyone else knows returns.
His shoulders square.
His voice sharpens.
“Alright everyone,” he calls out to the crew. “Let’s get moving.”
The drone operators jump into position.
Camera rigs hum to life.
Alexander starts directing the entire operation like a general on a battlefield.
“Luis, launch the drone from the bow.”
“Camera two stays wide.”
“Let’s capture the coastline first.”
Investors gather near him as he explains the marketing concept.
“The marina will become the visual centerpiece of the entire campaign,” he says smoothly. “We want scale. Movement. Energy.”
They nod, clearly impressed.
I lean lightly against the railing, finishing the rest of the sparkling water.
And I watch him.
God.
He’s incredible at this.
Confident.
Focused.
Commanding an entire team without raising his voice once.
People listen because they want to.
Because they trust him.
Because he’s good.
And I remember suddenly why I fell in love with him in the first place.
Alexander always cared.
About people.
About details.
About doing things right.
He notices everything.
Including me.
My chest tightens again.
Because the hardest part right now…
is remembering why I’m not supposed to love him anymore.