Page 7 of The Billionaire’s Siren (S.E. Smith Signature Romance: Heart & Soul #1)

Within days, he had proposed a whirlwind escape—the scent of paella in Spain, the sound of bouzouki music in Greece, and a life together in countless breathtaking places. With a fervent hope in his eyes, he’d promised freedom, a life unburdened by chains. Passion. A life of adventure.

She had laughed and said no. But, Zayan's daily requests to elope, to experience the passion he felt for her, had been relentless, leaving her feeling both intrigued and overwhelmed.

She'd refused his desire for intimacy, but the battle was slipping from her grasp as a quiet desperation settled in her heart.

Every time he kissed her, a fiery longing consumed her, leaving her breathless and wanting more.

Dani wrapped her arms around her waist as she walked. She couldn’t forget the look in her grandfather’s warm brown eyes. There had been compassion, understanding, and… grief. She realized that she wasn’t the only one hurting. She lifted a hand to wipe the tear that coursed down her cheek.

Am I making a mistake? Will I regret this for the rest of my life if I tell him no?

She drew a shuddering breath and looked both ways before she crossed the busy street. She was heading to find Zayan earlier than their arranged time. They usually met in the early evenings. She had to tell him that their love would need to wait. That she… wasn’t ready—not yet.

Her spiraling thoughts shattered into disbelief the moment she rounded the corner. Pain swept through her when she almost bumped into the couple who were locked in a passionate embrace.

Zayan—the man-boy who swore he loved her—was wrapped around a girl in a white dress. He was holding a suitcase in one hand.

He wasn’t just kissing the girl, he was repeating words he had spoken to her .

Dani listened, her heart silently breaking, as he whispered words of love, sharing promises of grand adventures together. Familiar words that she could have repeated almost verbatim.

Her breath shuddered when his hand curled around the girl’s waist, and she watched with growing anger as he laughed and called the girl azizi —his darling.

All of it had been rehearsed. Practiced, she realized with growing disillusion .

Dani backed away, slipping back along the street she had just emerged from. She pressed her fist to her mouth. She wouldn’t cry.

Instead, she followed Zayan—learning, and growing wiser. By early evening, she had watched him woo a girl from Sweden, another from Canada, and two boys, one from Germany and the other from France. All tourists. All spellbound.

Each one, thinking he or she were the only one.

Later that night, she arrived a few minutes early and waited across from where she and Zayan normally met. She watched him with a critical eye. He paused in front of a window. Her nose wiggled with disdain when he sprayed mouth freshener into his mouth and ran a comb through his black hair.

Her eyes narrowed when another handsome young man walked up to him. It was obvious what they were talking about from the way they were laughing.

Probably comparing notes .

Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she watched three young women and a man stroll into the bustling plaza, the scent of spiced coffee and exotic food filling the air.

Their expressions—furrowed brows and knowing glances—showed they'd compared notes.

She watched, her breath catching in her throat as the color drained from Zayan's face, his usual smooth confidence shattering like fragile glass to be replaced with growing anger and desperation.

The three women, while the male watched with anger, had backed Zayan up against the front of a restaurant. From the angry yells and the laughter from the patrons, the women were giving Zayan a piece of their mind.

She winced when his white shirt and pants were suddenly coated with blobs of red sauce.

Okay, more than a piece of their mind.

His frantic gaze swept the plaza. She lifted her chin when his furious dark eyes landed on her. She lifted her hand to her lips and blew him a kiss before she turned and walked away. He didn’t deserve any of her headspace.

She walked slowly back to the trawler. Her grandfather was sitting on the deck, sharpening a fishing knife with slow, deliberate strokes. He didn’t ask her questions when she climbed aboard.

“I’m ready to move on,” she said, her voice low and raw.

Stuart looked up, his brows furrowing. “You sure?”

She nodded once. “Yeah. I’ve seen what I needed to see.”

He didn’t press, which she was grateful for. He simply set the knife down, rose to his feet, and wrapped her in a hug that told her he understood more than he let on.

That night, Dani sat alone in her bunk, clutching her mother’s old scarf and trying not to cry.

What cracked her heart wasn’t Zayan’s betrayal. It was the shattering of something far more fragile:

Hope.

And the last part of her innocence — that life didn’t have to be painful.

There weren’t many men out there like her grandfather and father. She stared at the smiling image of her dad, his arms wrapped around her and her mom. That had been something else she had witnessed while she had been following Zayan.

Maybe she could love again. That someone might love her—not for what she could give, but for who she was beneath the scars. But, she would never give in easily again.

No, if I find a guy I like, really like again, he’s going to have to work for it.

She had learned a brutal life lesson.

Most guys didn’t want love.

They didn’t want a connection.

They just wanted a conquest. A warm body. A thrill. Before they disappeared, taking the other person’s heart like a trophy.

She would never trust a man’s pretty words again.

Dani exhaled sharply and blinked back to the present, the scent of diesel snapping her out of the memory.

She swiped at the sweat on her brow and shook her head as if she could scatter the thoughts loose. She’d buried Morocco. Buried Zayan, and all the smooth-talking guys that came after. They were all just another Carlos. Nice, fun in moderation, and never to be taken seriously.

So why the hell had Alexandros Kallistratos of all people made her want to see if he was different? His generous offer for a night should tell her exactly what kind of guy he was! An older version of Zayan! Smooth, confident, and full of the same steaming crap she’d been sold before.

She gritted her teeth and returned to the engine. There was work to be done—and no space in her heart for pretty lies in expensive suits.