Page 53 of Dagger in the Sea

“What’s that?”

“I hired an official planner and PR person from Athens for Alessio’s party tonight, and I’ve been the creative consultant, but ended up managing the entire affair.”

“You know all the right people.”

“I do. I’ve worked with my mother planning events before, but this is the first one on my own, and I feel responsible for Alessio’s success. It was my idea that he open the boutique in Mykonos in the first place, and this party will go a long way in cementing his brand, and getting me back on the horse as it were.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve been off the social racetrack for a while now. Tonight feels like my debut as well but on a different stage.”

Her Blackberry buzzed. She answered and, for the next two hours, Adriana was on her phone in a flurry of non-stop Greek and English, answering questions, asking questions, confirming, reminding, disagreeing, re-confirming. Her emphatic tone had me at attention. She knew what she wanted, she knew what she was talking about. She was in charge.

My cock hardened at her firm demands, at the stream of Greek. What a language. It was round and curved and sensual; its sounds more suited to soft endearments and sentiments than orders. Greeks colored their speech with washes of emotion, up and down it went, round and round, so different from the angular practicality of English.

She clicked off her phone and made notes to herself on her keyboard. A steward approached her, and they spoke in Italian. “Turo, they’ll be serving lunch in about fifteen minutes. Should we take a shower before or no?”

“Was that an invitation, darling?”

She grinned, putting down her phone. “For you, to shower in your cabin on your own,darling, and me in my cabin, on my own.”

“Ah. Not if that means you won’t be in a bikini for lunch.”

“Are you objectifying me, Turo?”

“Forgive me, no. I’m admiring your work of art. Because, you, Adriana Lavrentiou, are a work of art for all the senses.”

Her face reddened, her gaze deepened and that odd warmth flared up in me again. We both had our sunglasses on, but they did nothing to hide the crackling that zinged between us. There was something unpredictable about her. She could be soft or brittle, witty and ironic one moment, sad and lost the next.

“The things you say,” she whispered.

“All true.”

I surprised even myself. I was usually very careful and selective about the things I said to women. Not with Adriana. She inspired a fountain of verbiage, thoughts, feeling inside me. My insides tightened with the desire to run my fingers through that mane of long, unruly hair of hers and tug her mouth to mine.

What the hell was going on with my impulses around her? No control whatsoever.

I let out a breath.She already has a lover.Was she freshly fucked? She hadn’t seemed too relaxed this morning.

She sat up straighter, chewing on her bottom lip. “I’ll stay in my bikini for lunch, then. Shower after.”

“How did I convince you?”

“Such a level of appreciation deserves rewarding.”

I bowed my head to her and amusement flickered across her features as she slid on her designer flip-flops. I said, “I’m suddenly quite hungry.”

Letting out a laugh, she rose. “Me too.”

* * *

We leftthe sundeck and headed to the dining area where the long table had been set for two under the welcome shade of a thick canvas canopy that had been rolled out for us. A cold bottle of white wine was uncorked, a basket with different textured breads and rolls was placed to the side, and a dish ofcevicheand acaponataof eggplant awaited us. We dug in. Oval plates of black risotto with calamari were placed before us.

“Is this calamari?” I asked.

“No, it’ssoupiés…em…a cousin of calamari. Ah—cuttlefish,” Adri said. “Do you not like it? Black food is off-putting for many. Do you not like seafood?”

I slid my fork into the creamy black rice and ate. She watched me. “This is good,” I said. “Excellent, in fact. Squid ink pasta and risottos are a favorite of mine. I’ve never had cuttlefish this way though.”

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