Page 14 of The Billionaire’s Siren (S.E. Smith Signature Romance: Heart & Soul #1)

Eight

A dull throb pulsed behind Dani’s eyes as she drifted toward consciousness. Her head felt like it was packed with fog—heavy and slow—her limbs numb and awkward.

She blinked once. Twice. Shadows wavered, refusing to take shape.

A sour, metallic tang coated her tongue. Her body felt unmoored—half dream, half nightmare.

She tried to move—and couldn’t.

Panic surged.

Her mouth was sealed with thick tape, and her arms were wrenched behind her, bound tightly to something cold and unyielding.

A metal pipe. Her legs were curled under her on what felt like an old mattress reeking of mold and sweat.

The air was stale, laced with dust and oil.

Her breath came in short, sharp bursts through her nose.

She twisted, wincing at the sharp bite of plastic cutting into her skin, until she sat upright.

A wave of dizziness rolled over her.

She leaned her head against the wall, her eyes shut tight, trying not to throw up. Slowly, fragments of memory began to surface.

The phone call with her grandfather.

Her laughter. Her smile. Telling her grandfather about Alexandros .

That warm, floating feeling in her chest as she walked back to the trawler…

Her pulse sped as she remembered. Her heart beat so fast she was afraid she would pass out again.

The shadow.

The voice.

Her eyes flew open, and her body went rigid.

No. No, it can’t be.

But it was.

Zayan.

Her breath caught in her throat. She began to tremble uncontrollably.

After all these years… Why?

Her body tensed as her senses, heightened by her fear, picked up the sound of footsteps.

Light. Unhurried. Approaching.

She recoiled as far as she could into the corner, pulling her knees to her chest, trying to make herself small, invisible, anything.

The door creaked open.

Her heart pounded like a war drum.

A man stepped inside. Masked. Tall. His skin was a deep bronze, sun-darkened, but his build—lean, hard—was unmistakable. Scars marked the backs of his hands, jagged white reminders of cruelty lived and dealt.

He carried a stained paper plate with a sandwich and a lukewarm bottle of water. As if that could pass for kindness.

Dani’s throat moved in a dry swallow. The ache of thirst burned her. But her fear outweighed everything else.

He crouched, placing the food beside her.

He reached out a dirty hand.

She flinched violently, turning her face away, her heart in her throat.

A low chuckle escaped him—amused, unhurried. Cold.

He grabbed her hair, yanking her head forward with a painful jerk. Her scalp burned as she fought not to cry out .

Then came the searing sting as he ripped the tape from her mouth.

Dani gasped, dragging air into her lungs, her skin raw where the adhesive had torn it. She glared up at him, fury battling terror.

Zayan made a soft tsk, dragging the pad of his rough thumb across her lips with grotesque familiarity. Her stomach lurched with revulsion.

He rose slowly to his full height and turned as if to leave.

“I can’t eat like this,” Dani rasped, her voice hoarse, raw. “My hands…”

He paused.

Her hope shattered the moment his head snapped back around.

The blow came without warning.

His hand cracked across her face, whipping her head sideways into the metal pipe. Stars exploded in her vision. Pain radiated from her jaw as the coppery tang of blood filled her mouth. Her lip split.

She was still reeling when he grabbed her hair again, yanking her head back at a punishing angle.

From his belt, he drew a fishing knife—long, curved, razor-sharp.

Her breath froze.

She locked eyes with him, refusing to look away, even as the blade sliced through the strap binding her to the pipe. Her arms fell forward, aching and trembling.

He shoved her backward.

Before she could recover, he pulled a new strap from his pocket and fastened one wrist back to the pipe, yanking it tight. Too tight. The plastic dug into her skin.

He straightened and turned to leave.

“Why?” she whispered.

He paused at the door, half in shadow, and looked over his shoulder. His voice was soft. Almost casual.

“Because I can.”

And just like that, the nightmare she thought she’d outrun came roaring back.

She flinched when the door slammed shut. Her throat worked up and down as she fought back the paralyzing fear when the lock clicked.

Dani stayed frozen for what felt like hours, her breath ragged, her pulse thundering in her ears. Her cheek throbbed. The skin on her wrist was already raw beneath the strap. The taste of blood in her mouth made her sick to her stomach.

She reached up and touched her face, her fingers trembling.

He’s real. This is real.

She shut her eyes, willing herself not to sink into the gnawing dark.

Think. Think, Dani.

She patted her skirt pocket with trembling fingers.

Gone. Her phone—gone. But?—

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall as she ran her hand down along her right leg to her ankle. Her ankle bracelets were still there. Her fingers trembled as she felt along the beads before caressing the cylinder-shaped metal one.

Thank you, Gramps.

Her gaze shifted to the paper plate beside her. She ignored the sandwich—her stomach twisted at the thought—but reached for the water. She drained half the bottle in desperate gulps before capping it again.

Focus. Breathe.

The room looked as if it had been converted into a storage closet at some point. The air was damp. The walls were grimy. A single dirty window sat high above her, covered in a thin wire and too small to escape through. Still, she stared at it, willing a plan to form.

Her wrist ached where the strap dug in. She twisted slightly, shifting the pressure, testing the give in the pipe behind her.

It groaned faintly. But not enough.

She closed her eyes and sent a silent message—first to her grandfather.

I love you, Gramps. Please don’t worry. I won’t give up.

And then to Alexandros.

I should have stayed. I wanted to. I was just scared …

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Please. Help me find a way out of here. Please… let me live.

Because Zayan wouldn’t let her go—not this time.

She knew it.

His eyes…

It had been impossible to miss his intentions. Her grandfather always said eyes were the windows to a soul.

Zayan’s were empty.

Dead.

Because he had no soul left.

Legal jargon buzzed in the boardroom, as lifeless as the marble table it echoed from.

“…and as for Clause 14.7, we’ll need to renegotiate the force majeure protections before final sign?—”

Alexandros barely lifted his gaze from the contract in front of him when the door opened. It was only when he caught a flicker of movement—swift, purposeful—that his eyes darted up.

Demetrius.

His head of security rarely entered a closed meeting unless something was wrong.

And something was definitely wrong.

Demetrius’s face was pale, drawn, his mouth a grim line as he rounded the table and bent low. The whisper was sharp and clipped, but urgent enough to send a cold spike down Alexandros’s spine.

“I need a word. Privately. Now.”

Without hesitation, Alexandros rose to his feet. “Ladies. Gentlemen. I’ll return shortly.”

He crossed the room with the coiled precision of a panther sensing danger. He was almost at the door when the phone in his pocket buzzed. He reached for it instinctively—but Demetrius moved first.

The bodyguard stepped in front of him, hand raised.

Unthinkable .

Demetrius never blocked him. Ever.

“Don’t answer it yet,” Demetrius said, his voice low as he turned the screen toward Alexandros.

The name on the screen punched the air from his lungs.

Dani.

He answered instantly. “Danika mou ,” he murmured, his voice softening despite the tension thrumming beneath it, his eyes locked on Demetrius’s face. “I was just thinking?—”

“Alexandros…”

Her voice trembled. Fractured. Not the woman who had defied a yacht full of strangers or laughed at the stars.

The color drained from his face.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

A scribbled note appeared in front of him, shoved into his hand by Demetrius. His eyes scanned it—once, twice—trying to comprehend the impossible words:

She’s been taken. Keep her talking. We’re trying to trace the call.

Demetrius was already on his second phone, barking into it in rapid Greek, moving toward the hallway as a second team mobilized behind the scenes.

Alexandros gripped his phone tighter. “Dani, listen to me. Where are you? Are you hurt?”

She didn’t respond.

There was a sudden cry of pain—hers—a raw, wrenching sound that stabbed straight through him.

“Dani!”

A male voice cut in. Cold. Cruel. Almost amused.

“If you want your precious girlfriend back in one piece, Kallistratos, I suggest you do exactly as I instructed in the note I’m sure you’ve found by now. Unless, of course, you’d prefer her returned piece by piece.”

A cold sweat broke out across Alexandros’s neck.

“You touch her again, and I swear?—”

The line went dead.

Silence .

No click. No breath. Just the cold finality of disconnection.

He stood frozen in place, the phone still pressed to his ear, his blood thundering in his skull. The silence rang louder than the threat.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think?—

Only feel.

And what he felt was rage.

He stared at Demetrius as if the man might somehow undo what had just happened.

She’s gone,” Alexandros rasped. “He cut the line.”

Demetrius swore viciously. “The signal was too short. We couldn’t triangulate a location in time. And her phone—whoever has it—they’ve already shut it down.”

Alexandros’s jaw clenched. A storm began to build behind his eyes. Fury. Fear. The kind that made men dangerous.

He turned on his heel. “My office. Now.”

He passed Julius in the hall without slowing. “Clear my entire schedule. Call Theo. Tell him I need him. Urgently.”

“Sir?”

“Tell him to bring his friends—the ones from special operations,” Alexandros instructed in a voice devoid of emotion.

He strode into his private office, the door slamming shut behind Demetrius. The floor-to-ceiling windows cast long shadows as the early afternoon sun glinted off steel and glass. But Alexandros felt none of it.

He was cold—colder than he had ever been.

“Tell me everything,” he said.

Demetrius didn’t waste a second. He handed over a folded note.

A smear of blood marred the edge.

Alexandros stared at it, his throat tightening. “Is it hers?”

“No,” Demetrius said. “It’s the security guard’s. The one watching her. He was attacked last night—bludgeoned, tied up. He was found an hour ago by a friend of Dani’s. A guy named Carlos. Carlos said she never showed up for work.”

Alexandros unfolded the note with hands that trembled only slightly .

Fifty million euros. Waterproof bag. Coordinates enclosed. No cops. Or I send her back to you in pieces. Start with her beautiful green eyes? Or would you like the ankle with the little beads around it?

He swallowed. Hard. The letters swam in front of him. “How did he get on board?”

“Busted hatch on the trawler. Lock forced. We found signs of a struggle inside the salon.” Demetrius’s voice was tight. Controlled. “The bastard planned this. Knew where she’d be. How to get in and out. Fast. That she was being watched by security.”

“Cameras?”

“Disabled.”

Alexandros’s eyes burned with fury.

“The police?”

Demetrius pointed to the note. “He said we’re free to call them. He’d be ‘happy to send body parts’ if we did.”

Alexandros’s gaze locked on the coordinates.

“International waters.”

Demetrius nodded grimly. “International waters.”

Alexandros’s voice turned to granite.

“Then we don’t need jurisdiction.”

He strode to his desk, pulled open a drawer, and slammed his hand down on a hidden biometric scanner. The small panel beeped, unlocked, and opened to reveal a satellite phone, an encrypted tablet—and something darker, colder.

He looked up.

“Get me eyes on those coordinates,” he ordered. “Deploy drones. Activate whatever favors we’re owed.”

“And the money?”

Alexandros’s mouth curled. “He’ll get his money, but he won’t live to enjoy it.”

His gaze dropped to the blood-streaked note again, then turned to the window.

“She’s special, Demetrius,” he said quietly. His voice cracked, just once. “And this happened to her… because of me.”