Page 5 of The Billionaire’s Siren (S.E. Smith Signature Romance: Heart & Soul #1)

“You stay,” she ordered, lifting her hand to stop him. “This part of the rescue ends here. I appreciate the shoulder, and the shirt, but as the saying goes, all good things must end. And darlin’, this thrilling little adventure is definitely over.”

She flashed him an amused grin. He had no doubt that she knew perfectly well the effect she was having on him—and enjoyed every second of the torture she was inflicting. His mermaid was warning him to stay away.

That will never happen, he vowed, returning her gaze with a promise of his own reflected in his.

He loved the way she swallowed and lifted her chin. His challenge was being accepted whether she realized it or not.

“You can give Vito back the dress. Remind him that my tool bag is to be returned with all tools present and accounted for, or he will truly regret his actions. I’ll be sending him an invoice. I suggest he pay it if he doesn’t want me dismantling every engine he owns.”

“Message received. Now, may I disembark?” he dryly requested.

She shook her head and pointed outward. “Vito’s that way—and so are my tools.”

He arched a brow. “You’re refusing to allow me to exit my boat?”

“Yes—because you’ve got a message to deliver. Once that’s done, what you do is none of my business,” she said .

“Ah, yes, I remember. The threatening message—for Vito. Got it,” he replied, his lips twitching at her audacity.

“Yeah. Plus, I don’t trust you.”

His brow furrowed. “For heaven’s sake, why not? I just risked my life trying to save you!”

“First, I didn’t ask for you to save me. I could have swum here without you slowing me down. Second, you offended me. I don’t like guys who offend me.”

“And how did I offend you?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“By assuming I could be bought. Honestly, you couldn’t afford me. I’m worth a hell of a lot more than five hundred measly thousand, trust me,” she retorted.

“You’re right, that was offensive,” he reluctantly admitted.

“Damn right it was.”

“I want to see you again,” he stated.

Dani snorted out an amused laugh and shook her head. “No, but you can do me a favor.”

“Anything.”

She stepped closer to the edge of the dock, bending until they were less than a foot apart. If he reached up, he could wrap his arms around her waist, pull her back down into the zodiac, and order Demetrius to return them to the yacht where he could make love to her all night long.

Damn, but she has the most incredible eyes.

He was momentarily distracted. Something that he was not used to. He blinked when she snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Ah, yes. The favor. What do you wish?” he responded, a teasing smile curving his lips.

“I wish, Genie, for you to get me my tool bag—and yourself better friends. The ones you have suck,” she murmured before she straightened and turned away.

Alexandros blinked and watched as Dani strode across the dock to a motorbike parked at the entrance.

It didn’t matter that she was barefoot and dripping.

She still radiated heat and defiance like a flame that wouldn’t go out—all while wearing her undergarments, his shirt, and a towel.

He released a long, slow breath and shook his head in wonder.

“Follow her, and make sure she makes it back to her home safely,” he instructed.

“I’ll do it myself,” Demetrius responded with a low chuckle. “That one, she is trouble.”

Alexandros chuckled. “Yes. Yes, she is. And she is going to be my trouble. I want a full report on her. I want to know everything about her.”

A strange fire had ignited inside him—one that could challenge the fires of Hades.

He’d never met anyone like her.

And now?

He couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else.

Dani tried not to think about the infuriatingly handsome billionaire who had jumped off his perfectly good yacht after her.

“Better than a perfectly good plane,” she mused.

If she hadn’t been so upset about her missing tool bag, she might have gone a little easier on him?—

“Or not,” she ruefully conceded.

She grimaced as she reached down the front of her boy-short undies and extracted her cell phone and scooter key.

She held both up like a magician revealing her ultimate trick.

The key to her Vespa was blessedly dry and her phone only slightly damp—thanks to a creative mix of double-layered shower caps and a full roll of first aid tape she’d found under the vanity in the room Vito had locked her in.

MacGyver would’ve been proud.

She untied her boot strings, dropping them to the smooth, synthetic boards under her feet. Hopping, she slid one on before stepping into the other. A grimace of distaste twisted her expression at the squishy interior .

“My toes are going to rival Grandpa’s—minus the hair—” she sighed, visualizing her shriveled digits with distaste.

She was anything but elegant stomping along the narrow path back to the warehouse where she had left her motorbike. Her boots thudded with each step as she walked.

She knew she looked a mess—and couldn’t care less.

The towel made an adequate skirt, Alexandros’ shirt was tied over it to make the towel more secure, her sports bra looked like one of the midriff tops that were popular, and her boots could be a new fashion trend.

The dock was illuminated under the overhead lights and the moonlight.

Shadows stretched long and quiet around her as the rhythmic lap of the waves created the familiar lullaby of the sea.

Her Vespa sat just where she left it—perched at the far end of the dock, sleek and cherry red like a candy-coated promise of freedom. The Elettrica 70 decal gleamed under the dock lamps, and the seat still had the towel she used to protect it from the sun.

She used her key to unlock the side basket, and pulled out her helmet.

She tucked her wayward tangle of hair under the helmet as best she could before she straddled the scooter with a sigh.

She didn’t start the engine just yet. Instead, she sat, breathing in the salt-kissed air and letting the breeze cool her damp skin.

God, she was tired.

And rattled.

She looked out at the brightly lit yacht. Faint music and laughter could be heard. If nothing else, she had given them something to talk about tonight.

She pursed her lips when the annoying image of Alexandros Kallistratos popped into her head.

His irritating, confident smirk kept flickering in her mind like a stubborn flame.

Not the part where she’d punched him. Not even the part where he offered her half a million like she was a sequined call girl.

No—it was that moment in the water. When their gazes had locked.

When her pulse had jumped for a reason that had nothing to do with danger.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

She was putting all thoughts of him straight into the deep freeze .

She knew men like him. Gorgeous, rich, and carved from stone, with enough power to buy anything they wanted—and none of it was permanent.

Guys like him weren’t looking for girlfriends or wives.

They wanted affairs, flings, something exciting and forgettable.

They made you feel like a goddess until the next shiny distraction came along.

If she’d wanted a fling, she had options.

She could have her pick from the dozens of charming deckhands, cocky fishermen, and overly friendly restaurateurs who offered her free calamari and discount espresso on the regular.

Or she could make the mistake of trusting a liar’s smooth charm.

She had done that once—and she had paid the price.

It had cost her, her dignity—and nearly her life.

She wasn’t interested in becoming someone’s salty summer memory. She wanted more. Something real—like her parents had.

With someone I can trust.

She glanced toward the water again, watching the glint of lights reflecting on the dark Mediterranean.

Five years she’d been at this—working her way from island to island, learning everything she could about boats, engines, and surviving on her own terms. She’d seen every kind of man walk into her life… and right back out again.

All except one.

Her phone lit up with a call, and a snort of laughter slipped from her lips as she reached for the mic control on her helmet. The contact read: Grumpsicle.

“Speak of the devil,” she teased, answering with a grin. “Did you feel a disturbance in the Force or something?”

“Danika Rae Collins,” came the gravelly voice on the other end. “Why do I feel you’re in trouble?”

She laughed outright, pushed the motorbike off its stand, cranked the throttle, and rolled away from the dock. The electric scooter purred beneath her, smooth and familiar.

“Define ‘trouble’. If it involves sequins, an unexpected nighttime swim, and a yacht owned by an overconfident Greek demigod, then maybe.”

“Oh, Lord.” He groaned. “Do I even want to know? ”

“I’ll tell you everything. Just as soon as I get home and cleaned up. You’re going to love this one, Grandpa. It starts with champagne and ends with caviar combat.”

His deep chuckle rumbled through the line. “How about you tell me about it now? And you better not exaggerate.”

“I won’t. But I’m pretty sure I broke the space-time continuum of awkward encounters tonight.”

She turned onto the coastal road, the wind whipping at the damp ends of her hair as she rode. Her headlights carved a steady beam through the night, highlighting narrow turns and the occasional feral cat darting across the road.

Behind her, at a cautious distance, a sleek black SUV followed. Silent. Steady.

Dani didn’t see it yet. She was so enthralled with the tale that her grandfather had refused to wait to hear about.

She was also too busy laughing at her own ridiculous night.

“You did what? Just thinking about that makes me cringe, girl,” Stuart replied.

“I popped a home run, right into his groin. Of course, I thought it was Vito,” she repeated.

“Oh, lordy, girl. What am I going to do with you?” Stuart groaned.

“Love me like you always do, Gramps,” she replied, her voice softening.

“Be careful, love. I don’t want to have to come bury any bodies—but you know I would if he broke your heart,” Stuart warned.

She swallowed, slowing as she turned into the marina on the other side of the cove, where she lived and worked.

She drew to a stop along where the trawler she and her grandfather had refurbished was docked.

She looked out across the bay, but she couldn’t see the yacht from this angle.

There were too many other pleasure crafts blocking the view.

“I will, Gramps. I’m thinking it might be time to move on again.”

“Listen to your gut and do what you think is right. If you need me to come out there, just ask—or… maybe it’s time for you to come home,” he said .

Her head was already shaking before he finished. Tears burned her eyes. Even after all these years, she still wasn’t ready.

“Soon, Gramps, but… not yet.” She breathed out, feeling her fatigue pulling at her. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m bushed.”

“Love you, darling. I’m here whenever you need me.”

“I know. I love you, too, Gramps. Good night,” she murmured.

Dani sighed and slid off her motorbike. She replaced the helmet in the side basket and secured the chain and lock attached to the piling, so her only mode of transportation couldn’t be stolen.

She locked the trawler’s salon doors behind her with a satisfying click. The ridiculous red dress had been tossed somewhere in her brain’s mental recycling bin, right between ‘awkward sea rescues’ and ‘idiotic billionaires’.

Nope. No more billionaires, she silently promised herself. Especially not the Greek god kind with eyes that made you forget your own name. Nope. Not happening. Not tomorrow. Never, s he vowed, heading for the shower.

Outside, Demetrius stood in the shadows, watching the unusual woman he had fished out of the water disappear into a 1950s trawler. The vibration of his phone made him smile. He reached up and touched his earpiece to connect.

“She is safe,” he answered in greeting.

“You have her address?”

“She lives on a trawler at Pier 5.”

“Is she alone?”

Demetrius’s smile grew. “I can’t be certain, but I believe she is alone. I’ll have more information for you by tomorrow.”

“Good. Post a team to make sure she remains safe,” Alexandros ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Demetrius chuckled under his breath as the call ended.

He had watched over Alexandros since he was a boy.

Over the last ten years, he had grown more concerned about Alexandros’ growing cynicism.

All of that may have changed tonight as a defiant young woman pointed out something to the man he thought of as a son—that Alexandros needed better friends.

“Finally!”

Demetrius shook his head, grinning. Dani had no idea that her story with Alexandros was far from over.

Or that the man she was trying so hard to ignore had just made her his next priority.