“I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied, aiming for casual, but her amused expression told him she wasn’t buying it.
She lifted an eyebrow. “You called me Danika. I never told you that. In fact, the only person whoevercalled me that was my grandmother. And after last night’s surprise dive off your yacht, I’d have done the same thing. I’m guessing your lawyers weren’t thrilled about the liability.”
Her tone was light, teasing, but her eyes were too sharp to be anything but serious.
He gave a short, reluctant laugh. “I might have wanted to know who you were before inviting you aboard again.”
She grinned. “Smart man.”
“Should I be worried about that liability?” he asked, playing along.
Her smile wavered as she stared back at him. “Only about the fire you started inside me,” she confessed in a soft voice.
The moment the words slipped out, her eyes widened, and color flooded her cheeks. She looked away quickly, focusing on the cutlery like it held state secrets.
Alexandros leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, his voice low. “You know… you literally brought me to my knees the first time we met.”
She glanced up, a question in her eyes.
“I can honestly say,” he continued, “no other woman has ever done that.”
Her lips parted, the air between them shifting. She laughed, soft and surprised, the tension easing.
Over dinner, their conversation unfolded like a slow dance—organic, teasing, layered. The food was impeccable—fresh grilled fish with lemon and herbs, warm bread, marinated olives, roasted vegetables—but Alexandros barely noticed what he was eating.
Dani challenged him.
They debated current events with equal fervor—she had strong opinions about renewable energy, while he argued the limitations of infrastructure and real-world logistics. She listened intently, cut in without apology, and countered his points with wit and facts. She didn’t back down—and she didn’t get defensive when he didn’t agree.
He found it exhilarating.
She spoke with passion, even when they disagreed, and he realized he’d never had this kind of conversation with a woman at dinner. Usually it was small talk, compliments, and polite laughter.
This? This was real.
He wasn’t sure how the topic ended up shifting to one he normally avoided at all costs.
Discussions of love, marriage, and lifelong commitment were strictly off-limits, a taboo subject shrouded in unspoken rules. To his surprise, the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, a realization that shocked even him.
"I'm not sure I believe in love," he admitted, swirling the dark red wine, the ruby liquid catching the dim light, and avoiding herquestioning gaze. “Not… the kind that lasts. From my experience, it is a fleeting emotion.”
“What about your parents? Do they love each other?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Their marriage was an arranged one. I would say they are the closest thing to love that I have seen. My mother teases that they started out as strangers who slowly fell in love.”
“Isn’t that how it begins for everyone? We are all strangers—you and I—but, the longer we spend together the more we get to know each other. I’m not saying that we’re falling in love or anything like that, but that is how it begins. My parents always said there are five things that a couple has to agree on if they are to have a strong, successful marriage.”
He paused and lifted his glass. “Five things?” he repeated, leaning forward. “What are the mythical five things that guarantee eternal bliss?
She leaned her elbows on the table and studied him. “Well, money.”
He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a cynical nod. “Ah, yes. The most important element.”
She shook her head. “No, not the most important, but necessary. It isn’t about how much, or who has it. It’s about how to spend it, invest it. Things like that. If I balance the checkbook, or do you? If we have separate or joint accounts. It’s about trusting each other.”
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“Okay. There’s the in-laws.”
