Page 24 of The Billionaire’s Siren (S.E. Smith Signature Romance: Heart & Soul #1)

Fifteen

The scent of oil and sun-warmed wood clung to the air, mingling with the metallic tang of grease and sea salt.

Overhead, a gull screeched, its cry slicing through the low hum of chatter from men swapping stories in the shade.

Someone had a radio on, playing a popular Greek pop song, the beat bounced off the corrugated metal walls of the workshop. But Dani didn’t hear it.

Her world was muffled. Muted. Her mind was a million miles away—or at least it felt like it. In truth, it was more like just a few miles as the crow flies. Depending on where Alexandros was at the moment—his office, his apartment, or the villa.

She leaned forward, trying to focus on what she was supposed to be working on.

She was currently elbow-deep in the guts of a temperamental diesel engine hoisted on chains, the familiar grind of metal against metal echoing her mood.

Her arms ached, her hands were raw beneath her gloves, and sweat clung to her spine.

She didn’t mind.

The work was physical, consuming—one of the few things that kept her from unraveling completely.

But it didn’t stop the ache. Nothing stopped the ache .

The worst part wasn’t the silence—it was the relentless throb of her breaking heart. Night after night, the ache came like clockwork, hollowing her out until she forgot what peace felt like.

She’d lost weight. She could feel it in her bones. No amount of makeup could hide the shadows beneath her eyes. The boys in the yard had stopped teasing her after the first week. Now they just left coffee on the workbench and kept their distance.

She didn’t blame them.

She wasn’t good company.

Today was no better. Her stomach churn and her thoughts were a mess of wrenching memories and half-formed regrets. Her hands paused on the socket wrench. She flexed her fingers to stop the trembling.

“Dani, mou !”

She blinked and turned. Maria’s voice broke through her fog, bright and sweet like a bell.

She smiled as the other woman wove her way through the rows of boats and benches, her dark hair swept into a messy knot, a paper bag held high like a peace offering.

Dani felt the corner of her mouth twitch. Despite everything, Maria’s energy was infectious.

“I brought your favorite,” Maria announced proudly, waving the bag. “Prosciutto, arugula, fig jam on that rustic olive bread you love. Still warm.”

Dani pulled off her gloves, wiped her hands on a rag, and crossed to meet her friend.

They kissed on each cheek, the familiar greeting grounding her more than she cared to admit.

“I thought you were done with feeding me,” Dani teased weakly, trying to summon a genuine smile.

“I’m half-Greek. Feeding the people we love is practically our love language.”

Dani’s stomach twisted, not with hunger but with something closer to dread .

She took the bag with a grateful nod but didn’t open it. Her fingers went still.

Maria kept chatting—something about a café she’d discovered, a new job lead—but her words blurred at the edges as Dani stared at the paper sack.

That sandwich.

It wasn’t just a favorite—it was comfort food. Her comfort food. One only her grandfather ever made—making it for the first time after he had purchased the trawler.

Her fingers tightened.

Maria’s voice faltered. “Dani? Is everything okay?”

Dani looked up slowly, her voice quieter than her expression. “How long have you been working undercover for my grandfather?”

Maria blinked. “What? I don’t?—”

Her friend’s eyes darted to the bag, realization dawning in slow motion.

She sighed. “Damn. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“So, it’s true.”

Maria shrugged one shoulder, the movement half apology, half resignation. “Stuart asked me to keep an eye on you. Just… make sure you were okay. I didn’t lie to you, Dani. I just didn’t tell you everything.”

Dani nodded, her throat tightening. “And Carlos?”

Maria hesitated. Then, quietly, “He’s one of Stuart’s men too. Been working security on and off for him for years.”

A bitter laugh slipped from Dani’s lips, jagged and empty. She turned away, staring out at the boats bobbing in the marina. Sunlight danced across the rippling water—mockingly cheerful.

“Does he know where I am?” she asked, her voice slightly uneven. “Alexandros?”

Maria didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Dani looked down at the paper bag again, the sandwich now a symbol of everything she couldn’t avoid. Her hands trembled as she held it out to Maria .

“Here. You eat it.”

“Dani…”

“I’m not angry,” she murmured. “Just… tired. Tired of pretending everything’s fine. Tired of holding myself together with duct tape and lies…

Maria’s eyes searched hers, worry creasing her brow. “Where are you going?”

Dani collected her tools, picked up her tool bag, and slung it over her shoulder with practiced ease. Her body was on autopilot, but her heart had already made the choice.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like you to hang out here for a while. If-if Alexandros shows up, tell him I’ll meet him where we started.”

Maria’s brows drew together. “Where you started?”

Dani nodded. “Trust me—he’ll know.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked down the workshop aisle, boots echoing against the concrete like the slow beat of a war drum.

The sun hit her face as she stepped outside. Salt air filled her lungs, clearing her head.

She spotted Yiorgos, the old fisherman who always let her borrow his boat when he didn’t need it.

“Need a lift, koukla ?” he asked, eyeing her bag.

She smiled faintly. “Yeah. If you don’t mind.

He nodded toward his boat. “Hop in. It is a beautiful day to be on the water. Add in a beautiful woman, and my life is complete!”

Dani laughed and climbed into the boat, her heart pounding louder than the engine as it rumbled to life.

She dropped her tool bag onto the deck and sat down on the bench seat in front of the center console as Yiorgos chatted and idled the boat into the channel. In the distance, Dani could see where the yacht—his yacht—was anchored. Waiting.

She didn’t know what she would say when she saw him again. She didn’t know what he would do.

But she knew one thing.

She was done hiding .

Even if it broke her.

She was going to face the man she loved and all her demons.

And the best place to do it was where they began.

The salty wind hit Alexandros the moment he stepped out of the SUV, his eyes narrowing against the glare bouncing off the Aegean. The marina bustled with the usual hum of fishermen and tourists, but Alexandros moved through it like a force of nature—focused, sharp, barely leashed.

Nikos, Theo’s steely-eyed man, was already waiting at the edge of the dock. Luca, one of Demetrius’s guys, stood just behind him, arms folded, face unreadable. Both straightened the moment they saw him.

“She’s gone,” Nikos said without preamble. “Left about twenty minutes ago in a skiff with an old man named Yiorgos. Fisherman. Local.” He nodded toward the open sea. “Heading that way.”

A curse hissed through Alexandros’s teeth as he glared at the sunlit water stretching endlessly before him. “Damn it.”

He turned back toward the SUV, his jaw tight with frustration. Then he saw her.

A lone woman stood outside the open bay Dani had been working in, her black hair pulled back, a paper bag dangling from her hand. Recognition struck immediately. Maria Sanchez. The security agent from Stuart’s dossier. The one assigned to Dani without Alexandros’s knowledge.

He stormed toward her, gravel crunching under his expensive leather shoes.

“What did she say?” he demanded.

Maria didn’t flinch. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were searching his, as if weighing her loyalty to protect Dani or Dani’s wishes to convey her message.

“She told me to tell you,” Maria said gently, “that she’ll meet you where it all began.”

Alexandros stilled .

Then, slowly, his gaze turned back toward the water. A realization flickered in his stormy eyes.

A smile—not soft, not amused, but sharp and knowing—curved his lips.

He pivoted sharply. “Demetrius.” His tone cracked like a whip.

The other man appeared instantly at his side.

“Ten thousand euros to anyone who can get me to my yacht—now,” Alexandros said, his voice like steel.

Demetrius blinked. “Yes, sir.”

Word traveled fast.

Within seconds, a dozen offers were shouted across the pier. Alexandros scanned the hopeful faces and picked the sturdiest-looking vessel among them— a weathered old taxi boat with cracked paint and a captain who didn’t blink at a bribe.

He climbed aboard with Demetrius close behind, gripping the rails as the boat shuddered to life and surged away from the marina.

The ride was rougher than he liked. The sea was choppy, the wind rising with the late afternoon sun, but none of it mattered.

All he saw was the gleaming silhouette of the Kallistratos Challenge —his yacht, his fortress, his sanctuary—anchored in the distance.

A member of his security greeted them at the stern. Alexandros vaulted onto the platform with practiced ease. The moment his feet hit the teakwood deck, one of his crew approached, tipping his cap nervously.

“Ms. Bouras arrived ten, fifteen minutes ago. She asked for the stateroom… downstairs. She said you would be expecting her,” the man said.

Alexandros didn’t answer.

His feet were already moving.

He took the stairs two at a time, his suit jacket flaring behind him. A steward rounding the corner yelped and flattened himself against the wall. Alexandros didn’t stop.

His pulse thundered as he neared the stateroom.

That stateroom.

Memories flashed through his mind as he remembered the first time he laid eyes on her.

She was his fiery mermaid, dressed in an ill-fitting sequined red evening gown.

She had the mouth of a sailor and the lightning fist of a prizefighter, but it was her mischievous eyes that beckoned to him—snared his heart.

He reached for the handle and pushed the door open with one steady breath.