“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, anda 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. TheElettrica 70decal 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.
