Page 52 of A Perfect Disaster

“If that’s what you’ve decided, I accept it,” I reply, forcing my voice.

Maika leans back in her seat, crossing her arms.

“How convenient,” she murmurs with a bitterness she makes no attempt to hide.

Julianne watches her.

“The company is aware that there has been a history of interdepartmental friction between you two. So we ask that you act with the utmost professionalism.”

My back tenses up. I highly doubt that headquarters has the slightest idea of what really happened and is happening between us right now.

“We always are,” Maika replies before I can. “Despite our differences, we manage to make everything work out.”

“Yes. The entertainment team’s improvisation always happens on the fly, and even if some safety protocols get broken along the way, our differences have never compromised the ship’s operational performance,” I reply mechanically, almost defensively.

Arturo nods gravely.

“We hope it stays that way, Officer Müller.”

Maika lets out a dry laugh.

“Of course. There’s nothing better for resolving unresolved issues between two people than putting them in a fight for the same leadership position.”

“We evaluate leadership under stress,” Julianne cuts in. “And, whether you like it or not, today has shown that things work out better when departments come together.”

Discovering that we’re better when we work together doesn’t relieve me; it terrifies me. Because if we’re a perfect team, how am I supposed to destroy it to keep the job?

When the auditors finally stand up, I feel like the walls of the room are crushing me.

“Take a break,” Julianne concludes, putting away her documents. “Today’s session was tough. But extremely revealing for the report.”

Arturo opens the door to the conference room.

“First thing tomorrow morning, we’ll begin the individual interviews in the captain’s office. Good night to both of you.”

And they step out into the hallway.

For a few very long seconds, neither of us moves. I stare at the black screen of the monitor on the wall. Maika keeps her gaze fixed on the porthole overlooking the dock at Civitavecchia.

“Maika…”

“No,” she interrupts, raising a hand. “Save me the lecture. Because now you’re going to tell me that duty comes before everything else and that personal matters have no place here.”

I close my eyes for a moment, swallowing my pride. Because yes, those were exactly the words I was formulating in my head.

“I wish it were that easy.”

Then she turns and looks directly at me. I wish she hadn’t. Her eyes are rimmed with exhaustion, but they also reflect a wound much deeper than her sarcastic remarks had hinted at.

“It’s always easy for you when the goal is a promotion, Helen.”

“That’s not fair, Maika.”

“It’s not fair?” She jumps up from her chair, standing right in front of me. “I just ran through the center of Rome, I had a passenger collapse in my arms on a claustrophobic staircase, I spent minutes with no cell service, desperate to report what was happening, and I ran onto the gangway with the ship’s alarms blaring right behind me. What’s unfair is not having received a single word of encouragement. Not even a ‘Maika, everything’s going to be okay’ from you. Not even a hug!”

I’m speechless, the words stuck in my chest.

“I was also reeling from the pressure of what had happened,” I try to justify myself.