Chapter 142
Chapter 142:
He frowned, walked over, and tried his master key. Red light.
He pulled out his phone and opened the ship’s control application. “System error,” he read aloud. “Smart lock failure on the guest deck. All cabin doors are sealed p>
“Call the Captain,” Jocelyn said.
“I did. He says the guest network runs on a separate server from the bridge for security purposes. It’s completely fried,” Gaston said. He had triggered the lockdown himself five minutes ago. “There’s nothing he can do tonight p>
“What? How can a boat just lock itself?” Jocelyn stared at him.
Gaston sighed and rubbed his temples with practiced conviction. “It’s Elbert p>
“Your father p>
“He probably had his tech team install some kind of romantic lockdown protocol when he commissioned the yacht,” Gaston invented, his expression one of long-suffering resignation. “He believes forced proximity breeds grandchildren p>
“Your father had the yacht’s security system rigged?” Jocelyn said. “That is illegal. And insane p>
𝗬𝘰𝘂𝘳 ո𝖾х𝘁 fа𝘃o𝗋it𝗲 r𝖾а𝘥 іs 𝗈ո ѕ.𝗰оm
“He is a Collins. Laws are suggestions.” Gaston gestured helplessly at the corridor. “We are stuck p>
“So where do I sleep?” she asked, looking down the sealed hallway.
“My cabin has a manual lock connected to the balcony. The door works.” He stepped aside. “You are welcome to it p>
Jocelyn looked past him at the room. The king-sized bed. The only accessible bed.
“Wonderful,” she muttered. “Kidnapped by my father-in-law.” She walked in.
“I’ll take the sofa,” Gaston offered with exaggerated gallantry, gesturing toward a small, curved loveseat that was plainly designed for sitting, not sleeping — certainly not for a man of his dimensions.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jocelyn said. She was too tired to perform the argument. “It’s a California King. It’s the size of a football field. We can share p>
Gaston raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure p>
“We’ll build a pillow wall,” Jocelyn said, already reaching for the decorative cushions. She lined four of them in a careful row down the center of the mattress.
“The Berlin Wall,” Gaston observed, watching from the doorway.
They used the bathroom in separate shifts. When Jocelyn emerged in oversized silk pajamas, Gaston was already in bed on his side of the barrier, the lamp on his nightstand casting a low, warm light.
She climbed in. She reached across and turned her lamp off.
Darkness filled the room completely. The only sound was the quiet, rhythmic lapping of water against the hull.
Jocelyn lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. She could hear Gaston breathing. She could feel the heat radiating from his side of the bed, crossing the pillow wall like it wasn’t there.
“Jocelyn?” His voice was a low murmur in the dark.
“Yeah p>
A pause. “If I weren’t… who you think I am… would you give me a chance p>
The question suspended itself in the darkness between them.
Her heart skipped. She thought she understood what he meant. If I weren’t gay.
She turned her head toward the pillow wall. “Gaston,” she said gently. “You are who you are. We can’t change our nature. It wouldn’t be fair to you to pretend otherwise p>