He stood there, still on the ladder, unsure whether to laugh, groan, or shake her. He had brought her a peace offering. A chance to flirt. To banter. To maybe suggest lunch or wine.
Instead, she kissed her wrench kit with more passion than most of his dates.
“Brilliant,” he muttered.
“Yes, having the right tool for the job really helps,” she responded, completely unaware that she had figuratively pulled a step out from under his feet.
Alexandros Kallistratos—billionaire, shipping magnate, man who had entire cities change traffic routes for him—was now… ignored.
Deliberately.
Utterly.
For a socket and a greasy boat engine.
He eyed the hull of the trawler, noting the chipped paint, rust stains, and general grime. He was going to need new shoes after this. Possibly a tetanus shot.
A stubborn spark, like a tiny ember refusing to be extinguished, ignited in his chest. The unfamiliar terrain didn't deter him; he wasn't one to turn back from a challenge. And Danika Collins was utterly unpredictable, a wild card in the game of life.
He squared his shoulders and climbed the rest of the way up, stepping carefully onto the deck. She was crouched over the engine, one leg tucked beneath her, the other extended, her tank top clinging to her back as she twisted another bolt.
“Careful,” he drawled. “You keep ignoring me, I might start thinking you’re not madly in love with me.”
She snorted without turning. “Trust me, Alex—if I ever go mad, you’ll be the first to know.”
He chuckled despite himself. “Alexandros. No one haseverreferred to me as Alex.”
She looked at him over her shoulder. He felt a flush of heat rise to his cheeks as she started at his polished shoes, moved up his legs—paused midway—before continuing up to his face. She raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and turned back to focus on the engine.
God help him.
He was in trouble.
And he likedit.
Five
Dani released the final nut with a satisfying click. Her triumph was short-lived, though. Her heart was thundering against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat threatening to burst free, making it difficult to breathe.
She hadn't expected to see him again; the surprise sent a jolt through her, a mix of excitement and trepidation. Not so soon. Definitely not at her place of work.
She had hoped her tool bag would magically reappear, sure—but the fantasy hadn’t included Alexandros Kallistratos in designer slacks and a linen shirt, looking like a damn Greek god who’d decided to slum it for the day.
Dani tucked her chin and closed her eyes.
Count to ten. Breathe.
She could feel his gaze—steady, curious, and far too penetrating. His silence was louder than the hum of the music she had playing in the background. She wasn’t ready to deal with him, with whatever this was crackling in the air between them like static clinging to her skin.
But avoiding him wasn’t going to work—not with him standing there like temptation in human form.
Bracing a hand on the engine, she shifted to the side and swung her legs around, sliding onto the edge of the compartment. Her boots hit the floor with a muted thud, and she looked up, squinting at him in the filtered light streaming in through the open bay doors.
His expression was unreadable. Relaxed, maybe. Too relaxed.
“Thanks for the tool bag,” she said, her voice dry. “But don’t you have some billionaire things to do? Meetings to crash? Oceans to conquer? Wars to start?”
He smiled, slow and unapologetically. “Only the one I’m probably going to have with you. I want to see you again.”
