Unscheduled

Nathaniel’s POV 

I am the most organized person I know. My life is a series of blocks on a digital calendar, perfectly timed and executed. I know exactly where I am supposed to be, who I am supposed to be speaking to, and what my profit margins will look like six months from now. Control is not just something I like, it is the foundation of my existence.

Being surrounded by miles of salt water, beaten by a tropical rainstorm, and holding up an unconscious intern by her arms was not on the schedule for Tuesday at all.

The sky was bruising into a dark, ugly purple. Evening was coming, and with it, the temperature would drop. The rain showed no signs of stopping. It turned the surface of the Pacific into a blurry, grey mess. I shifted the weight of the survival sack strapped across my chest. It was heavy, pulling at my shoulder, but I couldn't let it go. It was the only thing I had salvaged from the cockpit, a small bag of essentials that might keep us alive if we actually made it to land.

I looked around, blinking the stinging salt from my eyes. Before the impact, the pilot had shouted about an island to the west. I had to find it. I had to start swimming before the cold cramped my muscles and dragged us both down.

I turned the intern over so she was floating on her back. I reached around her, tucking my arm under her armpit and across her chest, keeping her head above the water. It was a lifesaving stroke I had learned years ago at a summer camp I’d hated, but now, it was the only thing keeping me moving. I kicked with my legs, a slow, rhythmic sidestroke that used as little energy as possible.

The intern was a dead weight. Her head leaned back against my shoulder, her breathing shallow and ragged. She had been so sharp-tongued and defiant in the cabin, yet here she was, completely at the mercy of my strength.

As I swam, my mind drifted. It was a survival tactic, a way to keep the panic from settling in my chest. I thought about my mother. By now, the news would have reached the mainland. The "Missing" alerts would be scrolling across every news channel. My mother would be in a state of shock, though she’d likely hide it behind a stiff drink and a call to her lawyer. At the very least, this disaster would stop her from trying to match me with the vapid daughters of her wealthy friends. She’d be too busy mourning the loss of her "perfect" son.

Then there was Danielle. My heart throbbed with a different kind of pain at the thought of my younger sister. Danielle was the only person who saw past the billionaire CEO title. She was seven months pregnant now. The father of the baby, a boy from another prominent family, had vanished when he found out she was pregnant, refusing to take responsibility.

When he realized Danielle was from the Coop family, he tried to come back, smelling the money. I had handled him personally. I threatened to ruin his father's firm and bury his reputation if he ever stepped within a mile of her again. Since then, I had been her only support. How would she take the news? She was sensitive, and the stress of me being missing could be dangerous for the baby.

I gritted my teeth, pulling harder through the water. I won't be stranded for long, I told myself. My security team was the best in the world. They had trackers on the jet, and they’d have ships and planes in the air within the hour. I just needed to get us out of the water. I just needed to figure out which side of the Pacific we had crashed on.

The cold was starting to win. My fingers felt like lead, and a deep, bone-chilling shiver was starting to rattle my frame. I felt faint, my vision blurring with every wave that splashed over my face. Every time my eyes started to slip shut, I pinched the sensitive skin on my arm, the sharp sting of pain forcing me back to reality.

Don't stop. Do not stop.

I looked up, squinting through the downpour. The rain was like a curtain, but for a split second, the wind blew it aside. There, maybe half a mile away, was a dark silhouette. It was solid. It was green.

Trees.

The sight sent a surge of adrenaline through my veins. I ignored the screaming protest of my muscles and swam with everything I had left. I kicked until my legs burned, dragging the intern through the surf.

The waves near the shore were rougher, tossing us around like ragdolls. I felt sand beneath my feet, then lost it as a wave pulled us back. Fuck! I crawled back to the sand and stood up, my knees buckling, and hauled Ariana’s limp body out of the reaching tide. I dragged her up onto the higher sand, far away from the water, before collapsing beside her.

I lay there for a long time, face-down in the wet sand, gasping for air. My lungs felt like they were on fire.

Slowly, I pushed myself up and looked around. The beach was narrow, backed by a wall of thick, prehistoric-looking jungle. The island looked completely untouched. No lights, no buildings, no signs of life. It was desolate. It was silent, except for the roar of the wind and the crashing waves.

Where the hell were we?

For the first time in my life, I had no idea what was supposed to happen next.