by Cat Porter
And there wasn’t.
What would I be doing back in Chicago about now?
Grinning and bearing it.
Extinguishing a string of fires.
Agreeing to shit I didn’t want to agree to.
Keeping my head in the game, as I listened to endless bullshit and observed posturing and took mental notes on any weaknesses on display that I could use later.
Putting up with old men who thought they knew better, and young assholes who thought they knew even better.
Standing on street corners waiting for red lights and green lights to change, over-thinking about where else I needed to be and how I had to get there, and where was Ciara.
Ciara?
Nope. Not one thought. Not one. I was in Greece, in Andros. With Adriana.
There was no it’s enough, it’s not enough. Fine. None of that. There was only being here right now with her, sun in our eyes, brisk sea at our feet, cool air nipping over our wet skin, Adri holding up a glossy, long, slim white stone, and me saying, “Can I have it?”
She placed the stone in my hand, and my thumb rubbed over it. Firm silk. Smooth, simple, soothing. I tucked my souvenir of this moment into my small swimsuit pocket.
We howled in the small cave and laughed at our echoes. Lunging back into the water, we let the wild waves swish and swing us around like a crazy amusement park ride. A heavy wave smacked Adri, shoving her to the other end of the shore, and I dove toward her and grabbed her hand. We paddled away from the mouth of the small cave where the brisk sapphire currents collided in a persistent fury.
We swam a few yards farther out where the sea was calmer, and I brought her closer to me. Laughing, she splashed my face and slipped from my hold, and I followed her back to shore where our freddo espressos waited for us under the straw-thatched umbrella. The icy brew slid down my dry throat as she sat on her knees on my lounger and rubbed a sunscreen onto my back and shoulders.
I closed my eyes, her firm touch burning into my flesh in the cool breeze, easing the knots of tension I’d probably been holding onto since Chicago. Or was it Evgeny’s boat? Fuck, I always held on to tension.
My dueling partner’s haggard, pale face flashed before me, his wails echoed in my ears, and I took in air, pressed my hands to my eyes, willing him away. Away, dammit. I’m the one who made it out of that room alive. That’s what fucking counts.
“Turo? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, just a headache. Too much coffee.”
Her hand pulsed at the back of my neck. “Do you want to leave? Go to a hotel so you can rest? Is the sun too much—”
“No, baby.” The back of my throat burned the second that endearment spilled from me. “I just need to unwind. This is perfect. Really.”
“You must tell me if—”
“I’m good.”
“Lay down. I’ll rub your back.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Turn over.”
The pointed tone in her tigress voice ticked at me, nudging at my pulse. I turned over, chest down in the lounger. She kneeled in the sand next to me and rubbed ribbons of cool sunscreen into my muscles, her thumbs kneading my lower back. Heat radiated from her intense touch, dissolving the bunching, the aches.
“Damn yes. Right there,” I muttered, my body surrendering to her skilled hands.
“Hmm.” She slid her hands just under my waistband above my ass, and I clenched my muscles on reflex.
She let out a soft laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything inappropriate.”
I really wish you would.
She worked my shoulders, my back, and my suddenly heavy eyes closed, bidding farewell to the sight of her tits straining in that bikini top. Her fingers raked through my hair, my scalp tingling in their wake, and I drifted. Drifted on the scent of brine and the swish of the sea and the tigress’s warm, insistent touch.
I blinked.
“Hello.” A pretty face filled my vision. Adriana. Turquoise water, foamy waves, smooth round white rocks. Pink and orange flip-flops.
I sat up. “Was I asleep?”
“You were. Is it so unusual?”
“I never take naps.”
“You’re not in Chicago, Turo.”
No, I wasn’t. I took in a breath, scanning the impossibly beautiful shoreline. Greece, island, gorgeous girl.
Adriana slid a purple paisley tunic over her bathing suit. “Are you hungry? I thought we’d go to the tavérna to eat.”
“Yeah, starving actually.” I tugged my T-shirt on.
Adri filled a small purse with her car keys, wallet, and cell phone, and we headed for the restaurant where a young man greeted us. She chose a table by the railing facing the sea, and he spread a paper tablecloth over the cloth one, clipping it in place, leaving a menu behind which Adri ignored. Did anyone ever look at a menu in this country?
Another, older man rushed out and greeted her loudly. He was thrilled to see her. The Greek double kisses were exchanged.
“Turo this is Thanási. Thanási, Turo.”
Thanási’s wavy dark hair fell in his bright blue eyes. “Welcome to Vitáli.”
“Thank you.”
Thanási and Adri had an animated discussion, and within moments a waiter brought out a small copper carafe of white wine along with two small glasses, crusty bread, and cutlery. Thanási and the waiter left us to it.
“You know everyone,” I said, pouring the wine for us.
“Not everyone. But there was a time when we came to Andros consistently. Not just for a summer holiday, but for long weekends, every Easter. But after my grandfather passed away, my mother finally completed construction on her dream villa in Mykonos and we went there instead.”
“So Andros is a special place for you?”
“Very special. I’m only beginning to realize how much I’ve missed it.” Her lips pressed together.
“What did you order?” I asked, gently nudging her foot with mine.
Her lips tipped up. “You’ll see.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this hungry before.”
“Fresh sea air, swimming. Stress on the road. No sleep the night before…” Her hand touched my wrist.
It was a gentle weight, a momentary contact, yet an odd sliver of heat and comfort rose up my arm and filled my chest. I swallowed it down along with the cold white wine, savoring them both.
A Greek salad with that creamy local cheese and lots of capers made its appearance on our table, along with fried zucchini flowers filled with melting cheese, grilled sardines, a heap of tiny fried fish. A dish of roast meat in a light lemon and oil sauce.
“What kind of meat is that?”
“Goat, what the island is known for.”
“You mean the cute creatures we passed on the road through the mountains?”
“Yes, they roam free in their natural habitat. You won’t taste any finer. Rather like lamb, only not as fatty.”
I pulled the plate in front of me and dug in. Delicious, melt in my mouth, flavorful meat, the lemon adding the perfect acidic balance and pop of bright to the mellow rich sauce.
Adri’s fork stabbed at a corner of the roast. “You like it?”
“Yes.” I liked that she ate from my dish without asking, shared the feast. I moved the plate in between us and we both ate. The moody girl who picked at her food had thankfully left the building.
She dabbed a crust of bread in the salad dressing in the nearly empty bowl. “Tell me, how did you meet Gennaro Aliberti or is that secret?”
“No secret. Mr. Aliberti is a hotelier who wants to open a new hotel in Chicago. Recently the company I’m associated with tried to sign a deal with him, but my colleague was rude and Mr. Aliberti changed his mind about the collaboration. So they asked me to find him and apologize on their behalf, to find a way to make it right.”
She chewed on the oil and tomato soaked bread, her forehead pulled in.
“What is it?”
“Gennaro is quite stub
born. All the Alibertis are.”
“I know.”
“So that’s what Luca meant when we came back to the Allegra? That he would take care of that for you since…Evgeny’s boat?”
“Yes. Let’s see if he comes through.”
“Honor among thieves?”
“You think I’m a thief?”
“Aren’t you?”
I grinned. “Yes.” No simple thief, though. A thief of identities, self-respect, honor. I’d brought many people to their knees often enough.
Adri’s gaze went to her empty wine glass, but she didn’t look distressed by my admission. She really did appreciate my frankness, and I was giving it to her. No editing with wit or charm. For the first time in a long time, I was being frank with someone.
I poured her the last of the wine and she drank. “I’m going to use the ladies room.”
“I’ll take care of the bill.”
“Okay.” She rose from the table.
I was a murderer in her eyes now, wasn’t I?
She brushed past me, and I grabbed her arm. “Adri, I didn’t just do it for Luca. I did it for you. To keep you safe.”
“I know,” she breathed. “I wish you hadn’t had to.” I released my hold on her arm, and she strode away toward the end of the restaurant.
I caught the waiter’s attention and scribbled in the air—the universal sign for bill please. He raised his chin and brought over a slip of paper and I paid. Adri’s cell phone rang out with a synthesized song for a ringtone. I flicked a finger at her phone and it swerved toward me giving me a better view of the screen.
Alessio.
I let out a huff of air. What are you up to, amico mio? Searching your love boat high and low for your girlfriend? She ran off with the hired help.
Adriana had said she and Alessio were in a fake relationship. Surely he would be collecting a posse of pussy this week like some rockstar. He was certainly doing it at his party, and Adriana hadn’t seemed disturbed by it at all. Only Luca had pointed out to her that she was “straying” with me. Would running off hurt my case with Luca and Gennaro? Maybe sting Alessio more than he or Adri realized and he’d be after us, after her? Or maybe she was lying to me?
No, she couldn’t be.
I slid the phone back to its original position. Adri returned to the table. “Shall we go?”
“You got a phone call.”
She picked up her cell and her small beach bag, and meandered through the tables and chairs, her gaze focused on her screen. Stepping out into the sun, she put the phone to her ear, then looked at her screen again. “It’s no use. Service comes and goes out here.”
“That’s too bad.”
“No, it’s good. I don’t want to talk to anybody, even Alessio. I texted him earlier. He worries, and I wanted to make sure he knows I’m fine and not mad at him for some reason. Leaving the yacht was not about him.”
“It’s not?”
“No.” She pivoted around in the sand, her brow furrowing. “Coming here is about me standing on my own two feet. Not hiding behind my work, my name, a relationship. Just me and what I want.”
“And what is it you want, Adri?”
A grin curved her lips. “You and me on this beach.”
25
Turo
The sun had shifted position, and she pulled her lounger to the other side of mine so she’d be full in the sun and not in the shade. Kicking off her flip-flops, she took off her tunic and unfastened her bikini top, and her breasts—fucking perfect breasts—bounced free of the material. She twisted up her hair, the movement making her tits reach high, her nipples hard in the bracing wind. I chewed on my lip, my mouth dried.
Dionysus, you’re killing me.
She flattened out her chaise and laid down. Both of us stretched out side by side.
“Do you need me to help you with suntan lotion?” I asked.
Her lips twisted into a slight grin, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. “Yes, please.”
“Always ask for what you want, Adri.”
She handed me the tube of sunscreen and turned over on her stomach, turning her head to the side, sweeping away her hair. Her bare back was temptation in itself. I squeezed a line of the scented cream on her skin and rubbed the lotion over her sleek planes of firm flesh. She took in a deep breath and let out a low noise, her body squirming under my vigorous attentions. My fingers stroked down a curve so steep, just to the top of a slope so round—
A little boy screamed with laughter, his father throwing him in the shallow water, his yell piercing through me, and I let out the breath I’d been wringing in my chest like a wet towel I needed to dry. My fingers trailed down her spine and I snapped the cap back on the sunscreen.
“All done.”
“Thank you,” came her muffled, melted response. I grinned and tossed the tube back in her tote bag and fell back into my lounger, focusing my attention on the white gulls, their broad wings outstretched soaring and dipping in the sea. Adriana slept and I listened to her breathing, to the water welling and swishing on the sand, the occasional conversations the wind brought me.
Adri turned over again, her tits greeting me once more. I stretched my legs out, crossing one over the other. I felt like a fucking schoolboy struggling with a hard-on under my desk. But there was no desk and I was only wearing a bathing suit.
She let out a satisfied sigh. “This is perfect, isn’t it?”
Fuck yes it is.
I wanted every goddamn inch of her under me, in my hands, every inch pulsing with my body. I grabbed a water bottle from the table at my side and ripped the top off, chugging what was left it. Hot water, dull and viscous.
“Did you sleep?” she asked, her voice mellow.
“Are you serious?” I clipped.
“Yes, why?”
I lay back down, closer to her this time. “With this view? And I’m not talking about the sea, Lovely.”
She smiled. She was pleased with herself.
In one quick move I slid a hand around her thigh and pulled her against me. She let out a tiny yelp, formally summoning the carnal beast in me. Leaning over, I planted a kiss on her damp torso. Sun-kissed and scented with salt, her sweat, the lotion.
“Adri—”
She let out a small laugh. “Yes?”
“You evoke the strongest sensations in me and you know it.”
Unexpectedly, she remained relaxed in my grip which only excited me. Dared me.
Kiss along her tummy.
Kiss on her navel.
Lick of my tongue in that navel.
Another lick along the edge of her bikini bottom. Always pushing boundaries until I’m told no.
She hissed in air, eyebrows doing a dance over the rim of her sunglasses, and she tried to twist away. I tightened my hold on her.
She brushed a thumb across my jaw. “Taking what you want?” she asked.
My head jerked, a muffled laugh escaping my mouth. “Always taking, that’s me,” I muttered. “How did you know?”
“I had you pegged from the very first, but I like that about you, Turo.”
And with those words she wiped that automatic bitter grin from my mouth. My teeth tugged on the elastic trim of her bikini bottom and her eyes flared.
“Have you ever brought Alessio here?”
She shook her head. “He’s never been to Andros.”
“But he’s been in you?”
An eyebrow twitched. “Yes, many times.”
I liked her immediate, non-dramatic reply. Not a giggle, not a blush.
“Yet here you are with me,” I continued. “There he is in Mykonos. And my tongue is enjoying itself immensely. And I’ll bet his is too.”
“I’m sure it is, I hope so.” Her fingertips rubbed at my scalp. “Alessio and I are not in a relationship. Not a typical one.”
“Then what is it?”
“Are you jealous?”
“I need to know if I should be expecting an assassin from Napoli to come
for me in the night.”
“He’s not jealous,” she said. “He may be—em—territorial?”
“Right.”
“But not jealous.”
“Why not?” I pushed up, taking her body with me. “If you’re lovers, why isn’t he jealous? And what are we doing here?”
“This bothers you?”
“Adri, if you were my lover, I’d never let you go off with another man. Never let you touch another man the way we were together in front of him. The way I’m touching you now.”
She brushed a hand against my jawline, right by the scab from the night she’d got shot at.
My fingertips dug into her flesh. “Answer me.”
“Alessio and I are good friends who have sex. Nothing more.”
My muscles relaxed just a little. “Does Luca know that?”
“No.”
“How long has this been going on?”
She raised her sunglasses over her head. “I met him in Milano almost two years ago when I went with friends to Fashion Week. We went out, had a good time, we slept together one night, and stayed in touch. That summer he came to Greece with a girlfriend, but they had a terrible falling out, she left, and we had sex again. Since then, he comes to Greece when he can or I go to Italy. The press likes us as a couple, and we realized that us together keeps the hangers-on and the questions away. There are many hangers-on for Alessio. He detests it and trusts no one.”
“Because of his own notoriety and his father’s?”
“Yes, exactly. But if he does find a woman he wants, I fade into the background, then re-emerge once it’s over if he likes. Same goes for me.”
“Is that what was going on the night we met in Athens?’
“Yes.”
“Has he had other relationships?”
“Two or three.”
“And you?”
“No, none.”
“Why not? What’s in it for you then, Adri?”
“With every man they have seen me with, the press hounds me with the same questions— ‘Is he the one, Adriana? When are you getting married, Adriana? How many babies will you have, Adriana?’ Since Alessio they’ve gotten bored with me. Now they only remark ‘Adriana Lavrentiou and her long-time boyfriend, Alessio Aliberti…’ It’s worked out well for me.” Her gaze leveled on mine as her thumb brushed the edge of my lip. “So far.”