Page 26 of A Perfect Disaster

She nods slightly.

“For now.”

“Come on, Helen…”

She looks at me. The golden stage lights shine through her eyes, and for a second, I completely forget what I was going to say. She’s beautiful.

“Enjoy yourself a little and relax,” I end up saying.

Her eyebrow arches ironically.

“Are you giving me instructions?”

“Just friendly advice,” I reply with a smile.

“What a disturbing concept,” she murmurs, and this time she doesn’t look away.

The toast ends, the DJ regains control of the turntables, and the electronic music starts to heat things up again. The passengers regroup, and within minutes, a particularly lively group starts a conga line that begins to snake its way through the tables like an unstoppable current.

“You need to relax. Look how much fun everyone’s having,” I insist affectionately.

“I’m relaxed. I just don’t like moving formations without a safety guide at the front,” she protests.

“Sure… But you should relax that pretty jaw of yours a little.”

Damn, I spoke before I thought.

And, of course, she had to react.

For the first time, I detect a real hesitation in her features. She turns toward me and falls silent, a prolonged pause where the regulatory barrier seems to give way for both of us. My own breathing falls in sync with hers. However, Helen’s pragmatism returns quickly. She blinks, readjusts the tablet under her arm, and takes a step toward the technical aisle.

“I’m going to check on the upper deck access points,” she announces.

And before I can say goodbye, she dives into the crowd.

I’m left with the words on my tongue and the frustrating feeling of having hit a concrete wall just as the door was starting to give way. I follow her with my eyes as she cuts through the conga line with elegance; her uniform pants accentuate the decisive movement of her hips and… “Get your head together, Maika.” Helen definitely should come with a health hazard warning.

I hold my gaze on her path much longer than professional etiquette would dictate, until I see her take her position by the port side entrance, exactly as she was, as if this brief pause had never happened.

“Boss,” Lara appears at my side. “Is everything okay?”

I turn my attention to my assistant, trying to regain control of my racing heart.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

Lara’s smile widens as she crosses her arms.

“Because you were studying Helen’s features with an intensity that isn’t in the manuals.”

I burst out laughing.

“Müller is a constant anomaly on this ship, Lara. Don’t be fooled.”

“Yeah, sure. If you say so…” she draws out the phrase as she turns around to return to the excitement on the dance floor.

I turn my gaze back to the deck. The party is in full swing: the conga line has doubled in size, the waiters are weaving through the crowds, and the music unifies the atmosphere under the open sky. None of these three thousand passengers can imagine the invisible design that sustains their perfect night.

And Helen remains in her corner. Vigilant. Impenetrable. Distant. Or perhaps not as much as she tries to show.