Page 6 of The Billionaire’s Siren (S.E. Smith Signature Romance: Heart & Soul #1)

Three

The sun was barely over the horizon the next morning when Dani navigated the narrow road into the boatyard.

The gravel road curved along the shore like a lazy serpent, hugging the slope of the bay before flattening out into cracked pavement peppered with oil stains, tire grooves, and a smattering of crushed beer cans.

The boatyard always smelled faintly of diesel, fish, sun-baked metal, and fresh saltwater—and Dani wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her Vespa hummed like the wings of a hummingbird as she eased off the throttle and rolled under the weather-worn sign that arched across the entrance: Kostas & Sons Marine Service.

The paint had peeled long ago, leaving only faded blue letters and a sun-bleached dolphin logo that someone had once attempted to repaint with what looked like nail polish.

Morning light cut sharply through the slats of the boathouse roof.

It danced off rows of hulls in varying states of repair and reflected off stainless steel, chrome, and fiberglass like sequins on that red dress she had worn the night before.

Welders sparked to life on one side, an air compressor rumbled somewhere deeper in, and the occasional clang of tools echoed between the corrugated metal walls.

“Hey Dani! ”

“Mornin’, Dani!”

“Got time to tune my girl up later?”

A chorus of familiar voices rose in greeting as she cruised past rows of fishing boats and luxury weekend cruisers. Every guy with a wrench seemed to find a reason to straighten up and grin as she passed, their faces hopeful, eager, or just plain amused.

She lifted one hand in a lazy wave, her towel-now-skirt from last night long gone, replaced by her go-to uniform of grease-stained cargo pants, a black tank top, and a stubborn ponytail barely contained beneath her helmet.

They were good guys.

Mostly harmless.

And definitely not her type.

She turned toward the side warehouse, its tall sliding doors already cracked open to let in the breeze, and coasted the scooter into the shadow of the overhang. The air shifted instantly—cooler, quieter, a haven of steel, sweat, and forgotten tales from the sea.

She was just swinging off the seat when two brawny arms caught her around the waist and lifted her clean off the ground.

“Gotcha!”

“Carlos!” she yelped, half-laughing, half-scowling. “Put me down before I jam a spark plug into your ear!”

He spun her with practiced ease and set her down, only to lean in and plant a loud, obnoxious kiss on her cheek when she turned her head at the last second. She playfully punched him in the stomach—hard enough to make him grunt.

“One of these days, I am going to deck you,” she warned, brushing him off with mock irritation. “You’ve been asking for it since Tunisia.”

Carlos grinned, utterly unrepentant, his teeth white against sun-darkened skin. “You’d miss me.”

“Like I’d miss food poisoning,” she muttered, tugging open the scooter’s storage bin and exchanging her helmet for her backup tool bag with a grunt.

“How’s Maria?” she asked, feigning innocence even as she braced herself .

Carlos’s grin faltered. “Gone,” he said dramatically, holding a hand over his heart. “Left me for a pastry chef in Santorini. Can you believe that? A man who bakes! I never stood a chance.”

Dani groaned. “Carlos…”

“Don’t feel bad for me,” he said, brightening like the human embodiment of a bad idea. “Now that I’m single again, you can finally admit you’re in love with me.”

“Not in this lifetime, mi amigo .” She shoved him backward with a foot.

He cackled and danced away, dodging her second kick. “So, what’s on the docket today, mi sirena mecánica ?”

“Rebuilding the heads on those twin inboards from the Mistral,” she replied, slinging the bag over her shoulder and jerking her chin toward the ladder leading into a weather-beaten fishing trawler elevated on supports.

“Fancy. I’ve got a few outboards from that rental place in the next bay.” He glanced at her sideways. “How’d the job go yesterday? The mega yacht—you know, the one everyone is talking about? Was it everything you imagined and more?”

Dani’s fingers curled tighter around the handle of her bag. “It was a job,” she said flatly, already climbing the ladder.

Carlos watched her go, brow furrowed, before he shrugged. “I’ll check on you later. Try not to electrocute yourself or fall in love with someone else without telling me, okay?”

“Please go beg Maria for forgiveness so I don’t have to babysit you,” Dani shot back over her shoulder.

“You wound me,” Carlos called out, hand over his heart again. “But I still love you. I know you will one day love me back!”

She rolled her eyes, lifted her hand, and waved him off without turning around. His laughter followed her up the ladder.

Dani dropped her bag with a thunk next to the engine compartment and pulled the tarp off the engines. Her hands were already moving on autopilot—checking, unscrewing, inspecting while her mind wandered.

The physical work soothed her. Or at least, it normally did .

But no matter how deeply she buried herself in carburetors and timing chains, Alexandros Kallistratos’s face kept drifting into view.

Those maddening dark eyes. The way his voice had curled around her name like smoke.

The absurd, inconvenient, undeniable way her body had reacted when he touched her.

What the hell was wrong with her?

It had been almost four years since she’d felt even a flicker of interest in someone—and the last time had been a disaster.

If her grandfather hadn’t been there to talk reason into her head, if she hadn’t finally listened—really listened—to the warning in her gut, things could have turned out much, much different.

She pressed her hand to her chest as the memory rose—uninvited, unwanted, and all too clear.

She swallowed and braced her palms against the cool metal of the engine, staring down into the shadows of the bilge.

Her breathing slowed. Her fingers tightened. The scent of sea air and oil twisted, transforming into the thick, spiced breeze of another coast.

She closed her eyes, and the familiar memories of regret pulled her back to another place, another time…

Four years earlier:

Dani strolled along the cobbled streets as dusk settled in Tangier. She loved everything about it. It was where the Mediterranean kissed the edge of Africa and the streets blazed with color and life.

The call to prayer was ringing out from the mosques, echoing over the terracotta rooftops as the city transformed into something golden and ancient—something out of a storybook.

She breathed in a deep, calming breath. At seventeen, she still felt raw, but this magical place had swept away most of the nightmares she still had whenever she closed her eyes .

She loved the cobbled alleys scented with mint tea and orange blossoms, the golden light brushing the shoulders of passersby, the way laughter and music floated like petals through the narrow streets.

And she loved Zayan Alaoui.

A thrill ran through her, and she wrapped her arms around her waist to hug herself. She had stumbled into Zayan almost a month ago in the market when she was purchasing some fruits and vegetables for herself and her grandfather.

He had appeared in the Grand Socco like some desert prince in a half-buttoned shirt and linen trousers.

Her smile softened when she thought of the half-crooked grin he always had on his lips.

His eyes were the color of fresh coffee and just as addictive.

He spoke five languages, all of them like poetry.

One look and her heart leapt as if it recognized him.

One touch made her forget how to breathe.

“You are so beautiful, my Dani. More beautiful than the waters, the stars, the very heavens above.”

Even now, as she hurried to surprise him, she could feel excitement building inside her. He made her want to laugh again. He made her soul dance.

She’d pushed away her grandfather’s gentle warning when he caught her slipping off their trawler shortly after lunch. Yet, she couldn’t erase what he said from her mind.

“Dani, there are men in this world who only want one thing from a beautiful girl like you. They’ll whisper sweet nothings and make promises they have no intention of keeping.

It’s the thrill of the hunt for them. The challenge is to see who they can conquer.

They don’t think of the broken hearts they leave behind. ”

“Zayan’s not like that! He loves me. He makes me feel… special, Gramps.”

Stuart sighed. “What does your gut tell you, love?”

“It tells me—it tells me— I… don’t know. I want to believe?—”

God, she needed to believe someone could see her—really see her—beyond the grief still clinging to her like ash.

She thought of the first night she had met up with Zayan.

The memories caused little butterflies to flutter in her stomach.

The night had been magical. The moonlight had painted the city in silver.

Under the cover of night, she had slipped away from the trawler to meet with him.

They had laughed and explored the labyrinth of lantern-lit stalls, the air thick with the smells of exotic spices and roasting meats, and hidden rooftop cafes, their music spilling out onto the streets.

Beneath a sky scattered with a million glittering stars, he'd played a haunting melody on his oud, whispering her name as if it held the weight of the universe.

And when he kissed her…

For a moment, she forgot the sound of metal twisting. Forgot the blood. The screams. The way her mother’s hand had slipped from hers, going cold.

In Zayan’s arms, she’d felt the carefree innocence of her youth return, a lightness she'd almost forgotten. Whole. Seen.