Page 42 of Dagger in the Sea

“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 inRoma. 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.”

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