Page 2 of The Billionaire’s Siren (S.E. Smith Signature Romance: Heart & Soul #1)
A collective gasp swept through the crowd as her voice—definitely not demure or dulcet—rang out like a rallying cry. One elderly gentleman snickered and was elbowed by his companion while a woman in a glittering silver dress choked on her shrimp canapé.
Dani was feeling pretty confident until she looked back the way she had come. From the lower deck stairs, he emerged. Her accidental victim. Her very furious, very male, very intimidating victim.
And now she could really see him.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” she groaned skyward when she felt an instant attraction sweep through her. “Give me a frigging break up there, please!”
If the heavens were listening, they weren’t being generous. No, there looked like there would be some serious retribution in store for her if she wasn’t fast enough to escape it.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and carved like a Greek tragedy, the man moved with a lethal grace. He didn’t run—he hunted. And at the moment, he was hunting her.
His jaw was sharp enough to cut diamonds, his cheekbones angled just right to make sculptors weep, and his dark eyes… oh, those eyes.
Not brown. Black coffee before a storm kind of eyes.
And they were locked onto her like a heat-seeking missile.
Is that murder I see reflected at me? her brain whispered with a laugh .
Her instincts shrieked: Run, you idiot!
Her entire body jolted in agreement as the space between her and the two men shrank. On one side, seduction. On the other, divine retribution.
A hush fell again, as if everyone knew a reckoning was at hand.
Dani felt heat creep up her neck. Not from shame, no—she had passed the exit ramp to shame a couple of hours ago. No, this was from the absolutely unacceptable twinge of attraction at seeing the guy she’d just nut-punched in an expensive hallway.
Eyes flicked from her to him, to Vito stalking towards her, and back again, like the world’s wealthiest tennis match.
Crap. That is new.
“Stop! Now!” the Greek God ordered.
“When Zeus becomes a monk!” she shot back.
She wasn’t giving up. Freedom was only one leap away.
But so was he.
Dani wasn’t entirely sure which one was more dangerous.
The slimeball who had wanted to charm her into oblivion with a vat of cologne and his “sweetheart” routine…
…or the tall, Greek thundercloud who was stalking toward her like he’d stepped out of Mount Olympus with vengeance on his mind and a vendetta lodged somewhere between his clenched teeth.
Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to use his family jewels for a punching bag, she reluctantly conceded.
“Dani! Sweetheart, let us go back downstairs and discuss this misunderstanding,” Vito cooed over the now-muted music, his voice honeyed and thick with false concern.
Dani’s head whipped toward the voice that made her stomach churn.
Dani caught the expression in Vito’s eyes—hungry, entitled, and heated in the worst way. The look that made her skin crawl and her fight-or-flight instincts scream like an air-raid siren.
“That’s never going to happen unless it is to hide your dead body,” she swore, shooting daggers at Vito.
Out of her peripheral vision, Dani saw her window of opportunity open. A steward was entering through a set of sliding doors that led to the side deck. If she remembered right, it looped around toward the stern. A potential escape route. Possibly. Hopefully.
Behind her, she heard the low snarl of her nemesis—not Vito, no, the other one. The tall, chiseled man she’d wronged with enthusiastic precision.
She pushed through, startling the steward balancing the silver tray laden with high-end appetizers. Dani zig-zagged, snatched a handful of whatever was nearest on the tray, and stuffed it in her mouth— food is fuel, food is fuel —only to gag as the texture hit her.
Caviar. Slimy, salty, overpriced fish pudding.
She gagged again, spit it out in her hand, and instinctively flung the offending mess over her shoulder. A satisfying splat and a loud Greek curse followed.
She paused, just long enough to glance back—and burst into a short, snorting laugh.
Her furious stalker had just taken a direct hit to the face. Bits of caviar clung to the stubble on his cheek like glittering seaweed. His face was a mask of stunned disbelief even as the growing twitch in his jaw promised future consequences, but for now, Dani took the win.
“Sorry about that,” she said breezily. “Should’ve gone with the shrimp.”
With a snort of laughter, she turned and ran.
She launched herself down the curved steps leading toward the outer deck.
The wind, which had picked up a little since earlier, caught at the loose folds of her gown.
The thin material slipped down over her full breasts again, barely clinging to her curves.
She gripped it, holding a death grip on the neckline.
Her boots slapped against her thigh, still tied together and swinging like she was wielding a medieval flail.
The music faded behind her. The sea air hit her like a slap of reality—sharp, fresh, and warm against her damp skin. She stumbled off the last step and landed on the lower deck on her knees, wincing when they collided with the polished teak. Her breath came in bursts of short, hard gasps .
Ahead, the Mediterranean stretched out in endless indigo shimmer before her. The shoreline sparkled a few hundred yards away, like a promise she wasn’t supposed to reach.
The Kallistratos Challenge was no longer docked.
“Perfect,” Dani muttered, struggling to her feet. “Just… flipping… perfect.”
The opulent yacht was anchored offshore—probably to keep out party-crashers. The irony made her laugh, breathless and hysterical.
“Alrighty then,” she whispered, eyeing the lifeboat housing on the port stern. It was low enough. If she aimed right, she’d miss the propellers and not break a bone.
Hopefully.
She tugged the sagging gown up, gripping the hem in one fist and hoisting it above her knees. Her boots were still looped over her arm. She clutched them tighter, testing the jump with a glance and a deep inhale. She needed to move closer to the stern—and lower if possible.
“I’m not stupid,” she told herself aloud.
Well… not always.
But she was definitely daring.
Without waiting another second, Dani descended a second set of steps. Above her, she could already hear footsteps pounding toward her. Shouts. The thud of something—someone—hitting the wall she’d flown past.
Too late.
Dani landed with a soft thud on the lower deck, nearly toppling forward again as her feet hit the polished teak. She stumbled, righted herself, and pulled the red gown higher where it had slipped dangerously low, tucking it under her arm along with her boots.
The sea stretched out before her—dark, glittering, beautiful.
It would be a challenging swim to the dock. She calculated she could make it in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. She wasn’t worried about that. She could do twice that distance if pushed. The only thing that made her stomach clench was the thought of leaving her tool bag behind.
Her poor, beautiful baby. She had no idea where it was now .
Likely being used as a footrest by Vito or, worse, stuffed in a broom closet next to his ego.
“Stop! Now!”
The barked command sliced through the night, sharp and domineering.
Dani twisted, her breath catching as she took a slow step backward. Mesmerized by the thought of her escape, she had given her pursuer time to catch up with her. For a second, she wondered if she had done it on purpose—so she could see him one last time.
With an exasperated shake of her head at her wayward thoughts, she scowled and moved backwards. She curled her toes against the smooth deck as she turned to face her pursuer.
A shaft of moonlight illuminated his face—and she promptly decided she had made at least three poor life choices tonight, starting with accepting the job and ending with punching the wrong man.
Yep, I’m dead.
That was the only way to summarize the expression carved into the man’s face.
His jaw, sculpted and sharp, was clenched so tightly it could’ve shattered diamonds.
His black hair was tousled in a way that looked unintentional, but was somehow more devastating for it.
And those eyes—deep brown, nearly black—burned with such intensity that Dani felt the back of her knees wobble.
Somewhere along the chase, he had lost his jacket.
His tie, too. His white dress shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to his chest and arms in a way that should’ve been illegal on international waters.
The rolled-up sleeves exposed forearms that looked like they’d been designed by a very passionate Italian sculptor.
Her gaze dipped lower, despite her brain shouting for restraint.
Lean hips. Nice package. I hope I didn’t damage that too much. Long legs?—
Dani yanked her eyes back up to his face before her good sense slapped her.
Focus, Dani. Focus. You want to escape, not rip his clothes off.
“Listen,” she began, holding up a hand in a placating gesture. “It looks like you’re having a splendid party. Sorry for the punch. That was a gut reaction. I really do appreciate the rescue, but, well… I’ve gotta go.”
Her voice was breathless, annoyingly so. She hated how weak she sounded when she was running on adrenaline, fear, and hunger.
For food, Dani, not him. Food!
To her surprise, the man didn’t immediately leap for her or call for backup. Instead, he stopped, frowning as if she was the confusing part of this equation.
His eyes swept over her, lingering for one frustrating second too long on the way her dress had slid down to reveal one rounded lobe covered by a thin piece of black fabric. Of course, her body reacted to his intense stare. Her face flamed as her nipples hardened.
It's the cooler air, girl, not him. He wants to strangle you remember? The punch. You just reminded him of the low blow.
His eyes returned to her face, and he lifted an eyebrow, as if he knew what she was thinking.