Page 185 of Dagger in the Sea

“Yes, yours. We both know there’s no time to waste in this life. This is new to you, and it may feel awkward and uncomfortable, but you need to try.”

That voice beckoned me,“Get uncomfortable with me.”

My mother leaned in closer. “I do need you, Turo, but I love you more.” A kiss on my cheek.

“I love you too,” I breathed.

She released me. “As current CEO, I’m officially transferring your title to “consultant.” Go to Greece and explore some new ingredients Chef Dean could use at Porto or old traditions he could put his spin on. Maybe a winery that hasn’t exported yet. Take your time.”

“Actually, I do have a new business idea I’d like to research in Europe.”

“Do you? Fantastic. Go.”

“Mom.”

She held my gaze. “You need to go, Turo.”

I rubbed my hand across my jaw. “She’s in London right now. Not Athens.”

“Marjorie can have the ticket changed.”

“Mom—”

“I’m fine. Go.”

I scanned the itinerary. “Jesus, the flight is tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow.”

“Such a tenacious bitch.”

“You and me both.”

London

57

Adriana

“David,I need to have that quarterly report on Khalid Enterprises before four today. Mr. Khalid just informed me that he’s flying in from Doha tomorrow afternoon instead of next week, and I have to be able to give him the specs he wants to see.”

“Oh, damn. I’ll start on it now.”

“Thank you.”

My assistant David was an efficient sort. My office was run efficiently. I was an efficient component of Lavrentios Shipping, Ltd., London headquarters.Efficient.

I let out a heavy breath as I hunted for the right file on my computer. The only thing that wasn’t “efficient” was my constant daydreaming, an electric flutter of memories that frequently interrupted my train of thought, derailing me over and over again. Turo’s brittle but hearty laugh, the brush of his lips on my skin. Waking up in the morning with him wrapped around me. That yearning for him that now twisted and pulled at my insides, the intense feelings he evoked in my body, in my soul.

Working here filled me with pride, and I heard that pride in Petros’s voice every time we spoke. In my mother’s voice. In the way my uncle, Petros’s older brother who headed the offices here, had discussed in great detail a new investment with me earlier this week. And it made me feel good that I gave them that.

I glanced at the framed photo on my desk of me and Marko on the London Eye just last week. His smile was huge. A rare smile after everything he’d been through. He’d started to tell me details of his capture, and I’d ground my jaw together at the new shudder in his voice, sentences that would often drift, his far off looks that were too frequent for my liking.

We lived together at the family flat in Mayfair. We did things together. Either cooking at home or takeaways from his favorite restaurants and snuggling on the couch in front of the telly, or going to movies, museum exhibits first thing in the morning, a classical music concert once, but the crowd and noise had proven to be too much for him.

He was quiet most of the time, and yet once our parents flew back to Athens weeks ago, he had become a bit more talkative and relaxed, mostly because their constant state of concern had seeped into the atmosphere no matter the smiles on their faces. Thankfully, he was enjoying summer school and would be entering a private school north of London in the Fall.

Our mother had wanted to stay with us, but I’d convinced her otherwise. “Please, go home,Mamá. We’ll be fine.”

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