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.
