Dagger in the Sea

by Cat Porter

  I sat back in my upholstered seat. Looking relaxed was my modus operandi. Even the pretense helped me refocus. “You just hired me and now you want to kill me?”

  “He’s a Gemini, deal with it,” said Alessio, rolling his eyes. “I do.”

  “Luca, I came to Greece to apologize to Signor Gennaro for my boss’s son,” I said. “His ill chosen words were most unfortunate and quite disrespectful.”

  “Ahhh.” Luca slanted his head, a slight nod. “Very pretty words. I see why you were sent. That was wise, because that Valerio Guardino is a little shit.”

  “You’ve met him?”

  Luca waved a hand to the side, a sour look crossing his face. “From what my uncle has told me.”

  “I, for one, don’t care about all that, that’s your business—” Alessio gestured between me and Luca. “I want you to look out for Adri, Turo. I have a lot going on this week, and I need to be sure that she’s safe.”

  “You do that, I’ll let you talk to my uncle,” said Luca.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Gennaro Aliberti and Adriana came up the stairs arm in arm breaking the grim mood of our threesome. Alessio settled back in his chair, a tight grin on his face for Adriana, but the harsh set of his jaw remained as she sat next to me.

  Gennaro took a seat and his and Adriana’s orders were taken and quickly served: chamomile tea with honey for her, and a cognac for Gennaro.

  “We’ll stay here tonight,” said Alessio. “And continue on in the morning for the island.”

  “Here?” I asked. The yacht had started slowing down, yet I’d only just noticed.

  Adriana touched my arm. “Look up there, Turo. So beautiful at night.”

  I turned in my chair and there, perched high on a cliff, was a colonnaded temple lit with dramatic lighting. An ancient beacon in the dark.

  “That’s a sight,” I murmured.

  “Cape Sounio,” Adriana said. “The Temple of Poseidon.” The evening’s strong moon shed its silvery light over the dark waters and the god of the sea’s temple ruins high above us.

  “Did you not get a chance to visit Sounio?” Gennaro asked me.

  I reached for my drink. “No, not yet.”

  “Ah, you must,” he said. “Especially at sunset. You know, the English Romantic poet Lord Byron came here several times, even scratched his name in the marble of a column.” Gennaro pointed to the temple.

  “Didn’t he die in Greece?” I asked. “Fighting in their revolution?”

  “He did,” replied Gennaro, an odd smile crossing his face.

  The rough sound of scraping, clanging, the rush of metal on metal broke the temple’s spell. The anchor had dropped. We were stationed for the night. Our first night. Maybe I should shoot Poseidon a prayer to keep my sea travels safe?

  “Mr. DeMarco, I believe I know you,” said Gennaro sipping at his cognac. A cold yet relaxed smile laced his mouth.

  “Bella, let me show you this new painting my father bought for the stateroom.” Alessio rose from the table, taking Adriana’s hand in his. “He found it a gallery in Roma. Absolutely pornographic.”

  Her gaze slid to me for a moment as she followed Alessio down the steps to the lower deck.

  Gennaro and I were alone. With Luca.

  “Go ahead, Turo,” said Luca. “Introduce yourself. We like the formalities. Let my uncle know why you are here.”

  Gennaro took another sip of his liquor, his eyes narrowing.

  “Mr. Aliberti, I would like to speak to you on behalf of Mauro Guardino,” I said.

  He raised his chin.

  “I have no intention of interrupting your holiday.”

  Gennaro set his glass on the table. “But you have.”

  “Sir, this shooting has interrupted your holiday, not me. I merely hoped to have the opportunity to apologize for Valerio Guardino’s rudeness to you. His father was quite troubled by it.”

  “He should be.”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you?”

  I said, “It’s certainly no way to conduct business.”

  “Oh? Why do you think so?”

  “I believe respect counts.”

  “It does. Which is why I won’t be working with Mauro. He wants to stick his imbecile son on me? I’m not having it.” He gracefully shifted in his seat, facing me fully. “I won’t be strong-armed either. So don’t think you can come here and toss a threat at me and I’ll tremble and give in. Do you understand?”

  “I do, sir. I’m not here to threaten or bully you. You run a quality international corporation, I only—”

  “And my name stands for that quality all across the board. Why would I do business with an arrogant boy like this junior, when there are so many others to choose from?”

  “Mr. Guardino could make it difficult for you in the Chicago area.”

  “He can try all he wants, Mr. DeMarco.”

  “I’m sure we could all reach a mutually agreeable solution, Mr. Aliberti. One that will work to everyone’s advantage. If you would speak with Mr. Guardino once you’re back in the United States, I’m sure you would find him most agreeable to work with, most amenable to your needs. You could have a very positive working relationship.”

  A thick brow furrowed, he folded his hands.

  I said, “Mr. Guardino knows—”

  “Oh? What does he know?”

  “He knows that his son should not have spoken to you that way, and he wishes to make it up to you. I’m here to ask you simply to meet with him, hear him out.”

  Gennaro fingered the delicate crystal glass. “Tell your boss to fuck off.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Signor Gennaro.”

  He glanced quickly to my left. “But you will. Right now.”

  Cold metal shoved up against my temple. The bodyguard stood over me, his gun at my head. Luca remained still, relaxed.

  I took in a deep breath. “This isn’t necessary, sir.”

  “It is,” Aliberti said in his Italian accented English. “I don’t like being interrupted over nonsense. Your boss is a respected man, but his son is a shit which tells me a lot about the father. I don’t like it. At all. You are his messenger, are you not? Relay your message or Ciro—” he flicked a hand in the bodyguard’s direction— “will take care of you. Call him. Now.”

  “Very well.” I took out my cell phone slowly and hit the Boss’s number. It rang, and rang. Athens was eight hours ahead of Chicago. It must have been early evening there.

  “What?” Mauro finally answered.

  “Mr. Guardino, I’m here with Mr. Aliberti and he wishes me to tell you to fuck off.”

  Silence.

  I held Mr. Aliberti’s firm gaze. Ciro ground the gun’s metal nuzzle into my skull. Mauro’s laugh filled the line.

  “Keep trying or don’t bother coming home.”

  The line went dead.

  I really, really loved being in the middle of disputes and conflicts. Of two grown men having a pissing contest. “I’ll let him know, sir,” I said, clicking off.

  I put my cell phone on the table in front of me. Shooting my hand out, I twisted it around Ciro’s neck and, using all my weight, shoved him back onto the table. Cuffing his neck, I raised up over him, grabbed his fist and slammed it on the hard surface, sending the gun flying. Gennaro popped up from his chair as the gun slid across the deck.

  “Don’t touch me, and don’t threaten me again,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Let him go,” said Aliberti, his voice strained, staggering two steps on the suddenly bumpy boat. Luca watched, unperturbed, a grin playing on his lips.

  I let go of Ciro, who cursed at me under his breath as he grabbed his gun and put it back in his holster, facing away from us. He retreated to the end of the deck. I’d humiliated him.

  Gennaro cleared his throat. “It’s been a very long night. I’m off to bed.” He headed down the stairs.

  “Maybe next time, eh?” Luca said, crossing his legs.

  “T
here needs to be a next time,” I said.

  Adriana returned.

  “Adri, your bodyguard is in cabin five.” Luca rose from the small sofa taking his phone and packet of cigarettes with him.

  “Okay,” she said.

  Luca shot me a final look, and he and his acridity were gone. Adriana’s gaze returned to me. Intent, curious, guarded. The tension between us was palpable, and it wasn’t only the sexual kind anymore. Her cell phone vibrated on the table breaking the heated charge between us. She glanced at the screen, her face tightening. She hit a button and the phone stopped making noise.

  I sat down on the small sofa. “Don’t want to answer that?”

  “No, it’s much too late.” She gnawed at her lips as she sat down next to me.

  “How was the painting?” I asked.

  “Remarkable use of color, and definitely a triple X rating.” She grinned. Sly, raunchy, yet sweet and disarming all in a subtle sweep of those lips.

  I let out a jagged breath as a wave of heat spilled over me. “Triple X, huh?”

  “Depends on your taste, I suppose. And your mood.”

  “Oh, baby, I’m always in the mood.”

  She laughed, a rippling sensual laugh, and the tension leftover from Gennaro’s and Luca’s presence was finally broken, replaced with hot electrical sparks ricocheting between us. She didn’t seem to be in any rush to join her boyfriend in their cabin. And he hadn’t returned to claim her.

  I slid closer to her on the sofa “Tell me, are you some sort of princess?”

  She let out another laugh, softer this time. “No.”

  “Movie star?”

  “No.” She wiped the hair from her face.

  “Singer? Model?”

  “No. And not really.”

  “Not really?”

  “I have posed for photos in magazines, but nothing on a grand professional scale.”

  “Fashion shows?”

  “Many, but as a viewer.”

  “Then, are your parents celebrities?” I asked.

  “Something like that.”

  “Adri—”

  “What is going on between you and Gennaro? I heard your voices from the lower deck. Both of you threatening, challenging the other. Was meeting me at Island tonight part of some plan to get to him? Have you been following us? Do you have something to do with whoever shot at us?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Her eyes searched mine, and she pressed her lips together. After all the tense game playing of this endless evening I was more than tired, and Adriana looking at me like I was a con man she shouldn’t trust had me ruffled. And something told me I wasn’t the first con man she’d come up against.

  Her tight gaze hung on mine, and my heart thudded in my chest. Her opinion of me mattered.

  “It’s been a very long night. I’m quite tired, and you must be too.” She pushed back from the table.

  I grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, and she let out a gasp. “I know Signor Gennaro. We’ve met before in the United States. He and my boss were about to work together and—”

  “Your boss?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.”

  “Adri—”

  “I’ll show you to your cabin,” she said, her tone clipped.

  She was annoyed with me, but there was nothing I could do about it now. We were both exhausted. The adrenaline that had hauled us here, to this point, to this boat, had finally drained away, taking us with it.

  I followed her down the stairs to an elegant long living room in metal, gray, and black tones complete with an electric fireplace, two sofas and fluffy area rugs and pillows. Quite different from other yacht interiors I’d seen in my time. No nautical prints or bright whites and blues here. It was elegant and sophisticated, uncluttered, calming. Down another dramatically lit hallway, Alessio and his brother stood talking in Italian. Adri stopped in front of a black door marked with a chrome number plate. “5”

  She shifted her weight. “Here you are.”

  “Here I am,” I murmured. I wanted to say something. Get rid of this tension between us. Explain. Explain what, exactly? “Good night,” I said.

  “Yes, good night.” She strode away from me and went to Alessio who put an arm around her shoulders. Luca shot me one last heavy look and strode into his cabin. Alessio pushed open a door to his side, and he and Adri went through, disappearing from view.

  Their door closed with a heavy thud.

  15

  Adriana

  Sunlight drenched the vast wooden deck of the ship, the sea shimmering, a sparkling veil. The lapping of the waves, the slight rocking of the boat, a sea gull’s caw. I took a last sip of my cappuccino and breathed in the damp morning air.

  I loved the early morning, the quiet, the stirrings of life without the interference of human noise. After the insanity of last night, a night that began so beautifully, so glibly, then ended in horror.

  My fingers toyed with my máti charms hanging from a leather cord necklace. It was good to be in comfortable clothes after last night. Yes, last night seemed to have lasted forever. Yet after the shooting, the running off, the keeping it from my parents, and taking off on the boat, something still gnawed at me.

  Someone.

  Even after I’d gone to bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about Turo. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his eyes, eyes filled with concern for me after he’d covered me with his body, shielding me from bullets. This American tourist who was working with the Alibertis in some way. A man I’d kissed shamelessly. A man I’d had an overwhelming attraction to. And not just physically, but attracted to his way of talking to me, the way he looked at me. It was playful, it was fierce, demanding and challenging. It was sodden with desire and burned a path through my middle. He was a man, not a boy.

  “Good morning,” Turo’s deep, smooth voice made my chest constrict. “Sorry, did I startle you?”

  He planted himself in the chair beside me, his piercing gaze scouring over me as if he’d never seen a woman dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and trainers before. My skin heated, a furnace setting off in my veins. Even though I was wearing more clothes than last night, I suddenly felt exposed to him, naked. Vulnerable.

  “Kallí méra.” I pulled up my legs on the seat, but the barrier did nothing to make me feel less vulnerable to this man.

  “No one else up yet?” he asked, his gaze darting to the ancient ruins above us then returning to me.

  “No. Just us,” I said, gesturing to the waiter who stood to the side.

  Turo ordered an espresso. It arrived quickly and we sipped our coffees in silence. The anchor chains ground and scraped loudly, the engines rumbled to life. We were off. A lane of aqua foam trailed behind us as the ship gained speed, leaving Cape Sounion behind us. Turo slid on his sunglasses and adjusted his chair toward the best view. His cologne wafted over me, and I ran a hand around my neck. His scent was brisk and bright, almost sharp. A crisp citrus that softened and became silky and warm at its depth, offering up a hint of mystery.

  I stole a look at him. Like the man himself.

  I knew that fragrance. It was elegant and modern, an expensive vintage Italian men’s cologne. Most men I knew wore the heavier, spicy, arrogant big brand scents. Not Turo DeMarco. Turo DeMarco appreciated the subtler, finer things in life.

  “You smell good,” I said before I could stop myself. Oh, for fuck’s sake, why should I stop myself?

  “Do I?” His lips formed a crooked grin, appealing and sardonic all at once. He liked that I’d noticed. Or maybe all the ladies noticed and he was pleased with himself?

  “Shall I guess what it is?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Give it a go. No one’s ever gotten it.”

  “Poor girls.”

  I leaned in closer to him, the edge of my nose gliding along that slice of jawline. His breath rumbled in his throat. “Acqua di Parma,” I whispered to his skin.

  His lips twitched. “Very good,” he whispered back.
<
br />   His mouth was a breath from mine, and I could feel its warmth on my lips once again. A thick, roll of desire unfurled inside me, and I let it. His head slanted slowly, a movement which brought him closer, closer.

  “Lovely?” he said.

  “Hmm?”

  “Be careful.”

  My head jerked back. “Why? Do you Americans bite?”

  “If you take advantage of us, yes, we do.”

  I sat up straight. “You’d better not take advantage of me, then.”

  “I’m not.” The playful tone in his voice was gone, replaced with something quieter, firmer. “This security guard gig wasn’t my idea, but I’ve been hired and I’ll make good on that commitment.” His jaw set. “Your safety is my concern now.”

  My insides tightened. I believed him. “All I ask of you, is that you don’t ever lie to me or soften the truth,” I said. “If you’re connected to the Aliberti family in some way, do what they do, work with them, that’s fine, that’s not my business. But don’t pretend you’re something or someone else. Just don’t lie to me.”

  He sat back in his chair, his focus riveted on me. “I work for an organization in Chicago, and I came to Greece on behalf of my boss in Chicago to speak to Gennaro—speak with him, nothing else—about a business deal that soured. That’s the truth. That’s as much as I can tell you.”

  “Thank you,” I breathed.

  He studied me, his features tense, as if he were waiting for a backlash. “You don’t care that I’m…connected?” he asked.

  “No. I care about the truth from you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s easy for people to spin a tale, to tell you what you want to hear. Something pretty. I’ve seen it all my life. But the truth is the only dependable, unchangeable thing in this life and we rarely allow ourselves to face it. We sculpt our own versions of it, wrap it around us, gild it to make it prettier. But events remain one and only and unchanged. It doesn’t matter to me anymore if it’s ugly, it’s just the truth. I need to depend on you, Turo. After the shooting…”

  I took in a deep breath to push back the wave of emotion building in my chest, that wave that was sticking up my throat. I had to conquer this, I had to. I didn’t want to run away from it anymore.