by Cat Porter
“No. It belongs to the sea that he loved so much, to the island they both loved. It belongs right here, here where they would meet in secret. Not behind a glass case, with people staring at it, a monetary value slapped on it. I know of its existence, and I know it lies here undisturbed, and I’m glad. I want Natalia and Stefanos’s lost love, their unfulfilled hopes and dreams respected, their broken hearts healed and united in another time, another place beyond here. I sometimes wish there is such a place, an alternate universe where broken dreams are at peace.”
“I don’t think there is, baby.”
Her face lifted and watery eyes met mine.
Something pinched in my chest, and I brushed the tears off her heated face. “Hey, what is it?”
“I worry that if the dagger’s ever found and disturbed from its resting place, it will be our downfall. I used to imagine there was a sea nymph down there who kept the dagger safe for Stefanos and Natalia and cursed those who tried to take it.”
“Is there a curse attached to it?”
“There is. First loves go unfulfilled for us or lost by some tragedy.” She pressed her lips together. “They don’t last. And it’s been true from Stefanos on down through to my mother and me.”
“For you?” I asked.
She wiped at an eye that was brimming with tears. “And for me.”
There it was. I wanted to know, I wanted to take that pain from her and toss it in that sea. “Do you think many first loves stay together in our modern times?” I asked. “I think it’s rare. The world now is a much busier place, a crazy interconnected place. So many distractions, so many choices unlike in Stefanos’s time.”
“It’s a shame.”
“Ah, who’s the soulful romantic now?”
Her face was streaked with red. “Did you have a first love?”
“I thought I did, but I don’t think it was.”
“You thought?”
“She played me for a fool, I got over it quickly. A sour experience all around.”
“Sorry.”
“I let my loneliness and my hormones get the best of me.” I cleared my throat.
She only nodded, her gaze sliding back to the sea as she grew still. Was her pain still fresh? I wanted to know. I wanted to wipe his memory from her so she could see only me, feel only me, my hands on her flesh, my cock thrusting inside her.
Selfish bastard. Yeah, that’s right.
“How about you?” I asked.
“I’ve never told anyone,” she said, her voice almost eerie. “Not everything. Not the whole truth.”
30
Adriana
“Tell me about him.” Turo rubbed a hand down my back.
We’d only known each other a handful of days, but we’d spent them all together. I knew Turo would listen and not judge.
I took in a deep breath. “His name was Grigori.” There, you said his name out loud for the first time since forever and you survived. “He was a graffiti artist and a musician. A rap singer. An anti-fascist, politically active demonstrator against government corruption.”
Turo’s head slanted. “How did you meet him?”
“At a rave party he was DJ’ing in Athens. Very talented. Very attractive.”
“What did your parents think?”
“My parents were not amused. Especially my mother. But I didn’t care. They initially didn’t take much notice, hoping it was a fling. But I couldn’t get enough of him. He was everything I wasn’t, and everything I wanted. Outspoken, did what he believed in. He lived by his own rules, there were no rules. I liked that.
“His friends didn’t like me. I was the spoilt rich girl slumming it. The high society party girl dipping low. His family was very uncomfortable with me. Many of his friends said I ruined his street credibility, his image. But Grigori didn’t care about all that. He was anti all that to begin with.”
“The press must have found it all incredibly scintillating and juicy,” Turo said.
“God yes. My mother was convinced I was destroying my life.” Our endless shouting matches, the stinging accusations, fiery eyes, demands, slamming of doors all replayed themselves behind my eyes.
“Do you two not get along?” Turo asked.
“No, we do. It’s a long, complicated story.”
“It usually is,” he said, his gaze returning to the sea.
“I wasn’t rebelling against her. My being with Grigori wasn’t about her.”
“It wasn’t any kind of rebellion?”
“A rebellion over rigid expectations and a rigid way of thinking, but at the core of it was my love for him. I left university in Switzerland to live with him in Athens. We lived in his small apartment in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the city. I didn’t have access to any of my money at the time, so I found a job in a bar, which I hated, but we needed the money. He usually performed in that bar, in that neighborhood. We were together and that’s what mattered to me. I wasn’t thinking about tomorrow or the next day.”
“You did all that? Turned your back on—”
“I did. Being with Grigori was never romantic nights in fancy hotels, sex on high thread count sheets, fancy gifts or trendy cocktails and gourmet dinners. We were on his dirty sofa in his shitty apartment, on the beach on insufferably hot nights drinking cheap beer, at underground clubs. It was fun at first, liberating.”
“What happened?”
My mouth was dry, I licked my lips to prepare the way for the words that had to come. “He was always out. Either with his mates composing music, practicing, working to make money, or running political meetings. I thought us living together would bring us closer, make things easier, but it didn’t. I had to fit in to his schedule, his world, and I tried. That week, he’d been preparing for a performance and he was never home. I got upset, we fought. I insisted that we spend one night together, and he finally agreed.
“I took him to a nice neighborhood, to one of my favorite bars for a drink. Just one drink. He didn’t like it, he didn’t complain but it was written all over his face. He endured it, just wanted it over with. I felt like an idiot, but I kept trying to tell myself it was fine. It was just one night.
“We left the bar and were walking to where he’d parked his motorcycle, when I saw a friend of mine and I went over to say hello. It was so good to see a friendly face. But Grigori continued walking. He’d started his bike, waiting for me. Suddenly a group of men surrounded him, yelling and cursing. They were members of the new ultra right-wing party. Neo-nazis in black hoodies. They’d followed us there. I found out later that they’d been watching him for weeks and had been tracking us all night.”
“What happened?”
“They argued and attacked Grigori with knives. All of them. He bled to death right there on the sidewalk in front of all these fancy bars and restaurants. A river of blood. His blood, everywhere. Terrible shouting and screaming, cars, motorcycles. I tried to go to him, but I couldn’t even see him in the crowd. People were on a rampage, setting fires in the street, breaking shop windows, looting. Someone threw a molotov cocktail, and it exploded next to me.”
“Is that how you got that scar?”
“Yes.” The scar I hadn’t wanted him to touch. “His blood stained those fancy streets, bringing a rebellion to an unsuspecting part of the city. Demonstrations and protests broke out all over Athens, the entire country,” I continued. “It was an awful time. They turned him into a political martyr. But Grigori wasn’t affiliated with any political party. He simply told the truth about what people went through in their daily lives. He held a cracked mirror up to the waste and the exploitation.”
“And in the end, he was the one exploited.”
“In the worst way, and it’s my fault. If I hadn’t picked a fight with him, made him go out, taken him there, he might still be alive. If I hadn’t—”
“Adriana, stop.”
“I played a part in Grigori’s death. I made him more notorious than he already was, made him a target. Him going to that n
eighborhood, where he wasn’t protected by his own—and they turned that beautiful neighborhood into a war zone, and it’s all because of me.”
“Adri, you didn’t make those extremist hoodlums murder him and go on a rampage.”
“They viciously slaughtered him right there in public, on the street, like an animal.”
“Because they’re animals.”
“And I’m a fool, a selfish, self-centered fool.”
“No, you’re not. Stop.” He tugged on my hand, willing me to listen to him. “What happened after?”
“The funeral was a horror, more like a political rally. His family was in pieces, I was booed. The press was rabid for me. The day after the funeral, my parents sent me back to Geneva. That was two years ago. I finished uni, worked in London in between and after for a bit, and I came home this past Christmas, and stayed on. For the media I’m the country’s tragic little rich girl who wears a black tiara.”
“Black?”
“The ‘Bad Luck Princess,’ they call me—‘bad fate’ is the literal translation. They put me in a comic book like that. Black raccoon eyes, black crown, black heart spray-painted on a long red dress. One magazine did a full list of every man I’d ever dated in the past comparing them to Grigori. It was awful. I stopped going out and agreed to this arrangement with Alessio.”
“So you gave up?”
My back stiffened. Yes, I’d given up. “I made a choice.”
His jaw set. “You’re too young for that, Lovely.”
“I don’t feel young, Turo. I feel worn out.”
“Adri—”
I touched his beautiful lips with my fingers. “This is why last night was difficult for me.”
“But what about you and Alessio?”
“That’s different. At first it was fun, and I was usually drunk when we had sex. He never pushed me, he’s very protective. It’s always been casual and comfortable with us.”
“The sex?”
“I—” My tongue stumbled, my face heated.
“Say it.”
“I don’t completely let go and enjoy it.”
“You’ve been faking it with Alessio?” his voice was calm, controlled. A scientist gathering information and data.
“Not always. Sometimes. He gets hurt if I don’t enjoy myself, and I hate disappointing him. He’s good to me. He’s a very good friend. I try, but then I get caught up in my head, and I pull back.”
“You pull back?”
“My heart’s not in it.”
“Neither is your body.” His sharp gaze chewed on me, the weight of those words, his tone burned over my flesh. “He hasn’t realized?”
“Maybe, but he’s never pressured me or pushed.”
His eyes flashed, his mind whirred and clicked with this information. “Huh.”
“Was that irony?” my voice snapped.
“That was re-assessment.” His penetrating gaze bored through me, and my heartbeat skidded at its fierceness.
“And you?” I asked.
“What about me?”
“How did being lied to by your girlfriend, cheated on, I imagine, change you? Did it make you want to find someone new and start fresh? Fall in love again?” My voice came out sharper than I expected, and I regretted it instantly.
“No,” he ignored my defensive tone. “It made me never want to trust another female. To never let a woman interfere with my work. With who I am. I didn’t want to make that mistake again.”
“So you raised a fine mesh screen around yourself.”
“Exactly. My criteria for females became convenience and indulgence.”
“Have you ever admitted that before? Said it out loud?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“Your convenience, my comfort,” I declared. Our whitewashed truth.
“Adri—”
“I did all this with Alessio for relief, self-preservation, but instead, it’s become another gold cage with another fluffy pillow inside for me to lay on. Another way to hide. But I feel trapped. I don’t think I want to be there any longer.”
“Have you ever said that out loud before?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Get out of that cage, Adri,” he whispered, squeezing my hand. “Get out.”
Our gazes locked, our breaths, thoughts. We’d crossed a line together, that thick line we’d both so carefully drawn around ourselves. And it was there, in that moment, that I knew Turo DeMarco and I would keep crossing lines, keep daring each other, and I’d keep feeling this breathlessness, this terrifying and marvelous storm of risk and possibility coursing through my blood, bumping up my heartbeat.
And I was right.
31
Turo
That afternoon we shared a pizza and too many beers in town and then went to bed early. The fatigue had finally caught up with us.
“Why don’t we wake up early tomorrow morning and see the sun rise up at the castle? Start our day off right.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice had that tentative quality, but I could tell she was excited. Pleased. And that pleased me.
“Yes.”
“I’d like that.” Her shoulders bunched together for a moment, as if she were squeezing herself. She touched my arm. “Kálli níxta.”
“Goodnight,” I murmured as she made her way to her bedroom, and I headed to mine.
Adri woke me up in the morning, a hand on my shoulder. “Turo, do you still want to go?” she whispered.
“Yes,” I replied in the dark. “When we get back, you make the Greek coffee.”
“Deal.”
We made our way through the narrow, quiet cobblestoned streets, the day’s possibilities lacing through the chilly air. Stray cats silently watched us as we strode toward the end of the town. We climbed the stone bridge, the water slapping against the rocks below us.
Once inside the castle, Adriana and I sat together, facing the sea, the lighthouse outlined by a sky aglow in burnt yellow, powdery blues, and an impossibly innocent pink. Rising to the surface, flaring all around us. It was ours, we were alone on top of the Aegean Sea.
“So beautiful,” she murmured.
The wind was gentler this morning, but when it kicked up, a light howl sounded through the ruins, making me look over my shoulder as if someone else was here with us. Ghosts of the past. Maybe our intrusion before the first light of dawn had unsettled them.
An icy chill crawled over me, and I wrapped an arm around Adri, pulling her close. Her warmth settled against me as the heavy, blood red orange ball of the sun rose steadily, swiftly in the sky, blazing the pale sea with colored light.
“Are we supposed to make a wish or something as the sun rises or is that when the sun sets?” I whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“Screw it. Make a wish anyway.”
“All right. I want to take control of myself again. Be that person I used to be. I don’t know how to get her back.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t go back, Adri. Maybe you’re someone else now, and you should find her. Embrace her.”
Her gaze slid to mine, the yellow pink light flooding her face.
“Is that a new idea, Lovely?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
I rubbed her arm. “Make something that’s yours. Make your own luck. Like your ancestor Stefanos did.”
“Have you done that?” she asked.
My head jerked.
“No answer?” she asked.
“We’re talking about you now. And you need to stop functioning and live. Live big.”
“Live big,” she repeated as if it was something only crazy Americans said.
“Yeah, live big. And you have it in you. First of all, you turned your back on school, your family’s expectations, and the high life to be with a man you were in love with. That’s pretty fucking fearless from where I’m standing. You were all in on all levels. No shame, no regrets, no doubts. Look at what you accomplished with Alessio’s party.”
; The rosy pink and orange light shimmered over her as she shrugged.
“No, no. Don’t do that. It was designing, planning, organizing every detail, the chemistry of it. You excel at it. That wasn’t just some good time. It was a business venture, a remarkable publicity event. It was theater, and it was a success because of you. I know, I’ve been to a long line of these events. You brought something special to the table, Adriana, and you left your mark. You know what else? You used your fame and notoriety for a purpose. Your own purpose. You did that. That’s powerful. That’s power. Think about that.”
I’d rendered her speechless.
“Own that, baby.” My lips brushed the side of her face. “No matter what you choose to do, Adriana, you will be glorious.”
“Glorious?” She said the word as if it were comical.
My fingers dug into her neck and she winced. “Yes, glorious. You are very, very capable of doing whatever you put your mind to. You just have to want it badly enough.” I wanted to inspire her. Wake her up. I could start with my fingers, my mouth, my cock.
“Ah, beautiful,” she said.
I followed her gaze. The sun shone in the sky now. No more pinks, and rich oranges. Bright gold light. The day had begun, and it was no longer ours alone. No longer our quiet secret.
I kissed her, her eyes widening at my slow assault. Tasting, exploring. She opened to me, making little sounds that I drew into my mouth and swallowed whole.
“Turo,” her voice came out low and hoarse.
I slid my forehead against hers. Say it, you know you want it. “Go farther with me, Adri.”
The blue in her eyes flared for just a second. “What do you—”
“Are you attracted to me?” I asked.
“You know I am.”
“Say it.”
“I’m attracted to you.”
“How attracted?”
“Very,” she breathed.
“How?” I demanded. I needed to hear it, wanted to hear her say it, her words.
Her fingers gripped the back of my neck. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About how I feel when you touch me, when you look at me. Your looks burn right through me.”