Georgia had been given the only spare room available on the ship. Ironically, the one right next to the captain's cabin. It felt less like a guest room and more like a gilded cage.
She'd spent the entire morning holed up inside, the captain's voice echoing in her head like a drill sergeant on repeat. During their meeting after breakfast, Captain Nicholas had given her rules that she needed to follow if she wanted him to help her.
She could practically see him standing there, arms crossed, barking orders as he laid down the rules like commandments from Mount Olympus.
Captain Nicholas Knight's Eight Non-Negotiables:
No wandering—unless escorted.
No conversations—except with the captain, first mate, or chief steward.
Meals only in the galley—if accompanied by one of the three.
No eye contact—no gestures, no signals, zero interaction with the rest of the crew.
All requests go through the captain.
No one enters your room. Ever. Except me or Evelyn.
Keep it locked. Always. Or I'll do it for you—from the outside.
You're not here for free. You work. Daily. No complaints.
Georgia paced the narrow room, her arms crossed, her foot tapping with agitation. "This feels less like protection and more like captivity," she muttered under her breath, shooting a glare at the wall between her and the captain's quarters. "But of course, his ship, his rules. Hail to the almighty sea tyrant!"
A knock interrupted her brewing rebellion.
She swung the door open, and relief washed over her when she saw Evelyn's cheerful face. "Oh, thank the sea gods, finally a sane person. Come in!"
Evelyn stepped inside, her usual warmth bringing comfort. "How are you holding up?"
Georgia groaned dramatically. "I've counted seven flocks of birds flying past this ship. I swear I've memorized their wingspans. That's how bored I am. Do you know what kind of psychological damage that can do to a person?"
Evelyn let out a laugh. "Oh, sweetheart, you are definitely going stir-crazy. I figured you'd be climbing the walls by now, so—I bring you salvation. Your first task."
Georgia's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Please, tell me I get to mop something!"
"Well, not quite mopping. The captain asked that you clean his cabin," Evelyn said with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of her neck. "He's tied up with back-to-back meetings and said he doesn't have time to tidy up the mess you… both contributed to this morning."
Georgia winced. "Ah. Right. That mess."
"But he's really swamped today," Evelyn continued, walking toward the corridor. "The storm ahead shifted course. Since we slowed down last night, the weather's catching up sooner than expected. They're adjusting the route, recalculating everything. It's precautionary, but the whole bridge is working overtime."
A shiver crept up Georgia's spine. "So, what you're saying we're heading into a storm?"
"Not directly," Evelyn reassured, "just close enough that we can feel its effects. But trust me, this ship's in good hands. The captain's not exactly the type to leave things to chance."
Georgia followed her out of the room, nodding. "Well, good. I'll get started on his royal quarters before the ship starts rocking like a cradle."
Evelyn smirked. "Just don't fall into his bed again. We wouldn't want another incident, would we?"
Georgia rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. "That was not my fault!"
They headed toward the captain's cabin, where more than just dust and clutter awaited.
Georgia's eyes bulged the moment she stepped into the captain's cabin.
"Oh… my god."
She stood frozen at the doorway, taking in the scattered pillows, the overturned chair, the captain's belongings on the floor, and the faint outline of a shoe mark on the wall. Her heart sank like an anchor.
"Looks like the storm made landfall in here first," she muttered, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. "I am so dead if I broke something important."
Evelyn let out a laugh behind her, arms crossed with that ever-knowing look on her face. "Well, that particular storm was quite the wild one—fiery, impulsive, and bold enough to rattle the captain's cold, iron heart."
Georgia groaned as she walked in, already starting to gather the scattered mess she had made this morning. "Great. I'd better make this place sparkle or he'll snap right back into grumpy commander mode. Honestly, I'd rather face a wall of ice than his wrath. Or worse… punishment."
She shivered dramatically and dove into cleaning, muttering to herself about invisible scars and authoritarian sailors.
Evelyn placed a small radio on the desk and tapped it twice. "Here, use this to reach me. Don't use the intercom—I'll be all over the ship. This way is faster and more discreet."
Georgia accepted it with a grateful nod, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Evelyn gave her a final once-over, smiling to herself. "You're something else, girl," she whispered under her breath as she turned and closed the door behind her, leaving Georgia in the eye of the very storm she had stirred up.
Now alone, Georgia took a deep breath and rolled up her sleeves.
"Alright, Captain Stormcloud… let's make this cabin shine before you return to strike lightning."
Georgia hadn't expected cleaning a modest-sized cabin to feel like climbing a mountain barefoot. She wiped her sweaty forehead with the hem of her borrowed shirt and groaned, "This is more exhausting than swimming for my life last night."
Growing up, she'd always had maids fluttering around her like guardian fairies, cleaning her room before she even noticed it was messy. Even after her father passed during the pandemic and their family business began to crumble, her older brother made sure she never had to lift a finger.
Sure, she knew how to make her bed, tidy up her stuff—but mopping floors, scrubbing bathroom tiles, and polishing walls? That was virgin territory.
But for the sake of not being thrown back into the ocean or reported to the authorities, she rolled up her sleeves and went to war with dust and clutter. She even discovered the captain's adjoining office and gave that room a thorough wipe-down, too.
By the time she was done, she was limp with exhaustion.
"I deserve a medal," she muttered, plopping into the chair beside the desk. Her muscles screamed, and even her eyelashes felt heavy. "Just a quick rest… I'll call Evelyn in a bit…"
She laid her head on the desk, careful not to wrinkle the pristine bed she'd just fixed like a military cadet. Her eyes fluttered shut, and the next thing she knew… she was flying?
No… not flying. Floating?
Her eyes shot open and—Nick.
His face hovered inches above hers, his brows slightly furrowed in confusion and mild irritation, his strong arms beneath her back and legs.
Her heart jumped. Why is he carrying me?!
In reflex, she jolted upright—smashing her forehead right into his nose.
"OW—!" Nick staggered backward, crunching his face, almost tripping over the edge of the bed.
The same bed that Nick had accidentally touched her...