He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She was laughing—laughing—with that low, throaty sound that made his stomach tighten. She’d just finished telling a ridiculous story about slipping into the water at the marina while trying to impress a group of retired fishermen with her knot-tying skills.
“They still tease me about it,” she said, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. “I swear Kostas told the story four times before lunch.”
“They adore you,” Alexandros said, smiling. “Even the one with three teeth.”
“Ah, Spiro,” she chuckled. “He keeps offering to find me a ‘nice Greek husband’ who can build me a fishing boat from scratch.”
Alexandros arched a brow. “Should I be worried?”
She licked her lips and studied him with a sultry expression. “Jealous, Mr. Kallistratos?”
He leaned forward, plucked a piece of clementine from her fingers, and said, “Terribly. But I hear you’re already quite taken with a Greek man who owns a ludicrously large yacht and scowls like a storm cloud when he catches you driving too fast on that scooter from hell you own.”
She laughed again and shoved his shoulder. “I was going fourteen kilometers an hour. That’s barely faster than a jog.”
“I have seen death glare at me with less intensity than your Vespa.”
She rolled her eyes, but her grin softened as she tilted her face to the fading shafts of sunlight. The wind tugged at her hair, wild and fiery in the light. Sun-kissed and barefoot, she looked more like a sea nymph than a billionaire’s heir.
No one would guess who she was.
Alexandros didn’t care. She was his Danika. His mermaid. His mechanic. His lover. And he hoped that soon he could add his wife to the list.
He loved this version of her. He would never tire of watching her barter with dockhands, flirt information out of grumpy mechanics, and chat with fishermen about carburetors and fishing lines as if she’d been born to the sea.
He still remembered the way she’d waved goodbye to the marina crew two weeks earlier, oil-stained gloves hanging from her belt like a badge of honor.
They’d spent nearly a week on his yacht, giving Dani time to finish the engine repair she’d promised at the marina. He’d pretended to protest, but truthfully, it had been some of his favorite days—sitting nearby, sipping espresso, reading reports half-heartedly while sneaking glances at her bent over an engine block, her hair twisted into a messy knot and her tank top clinging to her back in the heat.
He hadn’t taken this much time off work in… ever.
He didn’t miss it.
Not the boardrooms.
Not the meetings.
Not the women.
He looked at Dani now and felt the same fierce surge of something he didn’t have a name for until she’d walked into his life.
Love.
He was in love. And not in the way he’d always thought it would happen—with caution, control, and timing. No, this was the headfirst, heart-wrecking kind. The kind that made him want to rewrite every plan he’d made for his future just to make space for her.
Especially when someone new might already be on the way.
His gaze drifted to her stomach. Flat and tan. Beautiful. He knew she hadn’t had her period since they’d been back together. Nearly three weeks. A flicker of hope stirred deep inside him.
Could she be pregnant?
The thought didn’t scare him. It thrilled him.
The idea of Dani—his Dani—carrying their child, her bodyrounded with new life, her laughter and the sounds of a baby’s coo filling their home…
His chest tightened with emotion.
