And now she could really see him.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” she groaned skyward when she felt an instant attraction sweep through her. “Give me a frigging break up there, please!”
If the heavens were listening, they weren’t being generous. No, there looked like there would be some serious retribution in store for her if she wasn’t fast enough to escape it.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and carved like a Greek tragedy, the man moved with a lethal grace. He didn’t run—he hunted. And at the moment, he was hunting her.
His jaw was sharp enough to cut diamonds, his cheekbones angled just right to make sculptors weep, and his dark eyes… oh, those eyes.
Not brown. Black coffee before a storm kind of eyes.
And they were locked onto her like a heat-seeking missile.
Is that murder I see reflected at me?her brain whispered with a laugh.
Her instincts shrieked:Run, you idiot!
Her entire body jolted in agreement as the space between her and the two men shrank. On one side, seduction. On the other, divine retribution.
A hush fell again, as if everyone knew a reckoning was at hand.
Dani felt heat creep up her neck. Not from shame, no—she had passed the exit ramp to shame a couple of hours ago. No, this was from the absolutely unacceptable twinge of attraction at seeing the guy she’d just nut-punched in an expensive hallway.
Eyes flicked from her to him, to Vito stalking towards her, and back again, like the world’s wealthiest tennis match.
Crap. That is new.
“Stop! Now!” the Greek God ordered.
“When Zeus becomes a monk!” she shot back.
She wasn’t giving up. Freedom was only one leap away.
But so was he.
Dani wasn’t entirely sure which one was more dangerous.
The slimeball who had wanted to charm her into oblivion with a vat of cologne and his “sweetheart” routine…
…or the tall, Greek thundercloud who was stalking toward her like he’d stepped out of Mount Olympus with vengeance on his mind and a vendetta lodged somewhere between his clenched teeth.
Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to use his family jewels for a punching bag,she reluctantly conceded.
“Dani! Sweetheart, let us go back downstairs and discuss this misunderstanding,” Vito cooed over the now-muted music, his voice honeyed and thick with false concern.
Dani’s head whipped toward the voice that made her stomach churn.
Dani caught the expression in Vito’s eyes—hungry, entitled, and heated in the worst way. The look that made her skin crawl and her fight-or-flight instincts scream like an air-raid siren.
“That’s never going to happen unless it is to hide your dead body,” she swore, shooting daggers at Vito.
Out of her peripheral vision, Dani saw her window of opportunityopen. A steward was entering through a set of sliding doors that led to the side deck. If she remembered right, it looped around toward the stern. A potential escape route. Possibly. Hopefully.
Behind her, she heard the low snarl of her nemesis—not Vito, no, the other one. The tall, chiseled man she’d wronged with enthusiastic precision.
She pushed through, startling the steward balancing the silver tray laden with high-end appetizers. Dani zig-zagged, snatched a handful of whatever was nearest on the tray, and stuffed it in her mouth—food is fuel, food is fuel—only to gag as the texture hit her.
Caviar. Slimy, salty, overpriced fish pudding.
