Page 47 of Dagger in the Sea

“Thank you.” I took my hand back. I pulled my legs up again and stared out at the sea.

“Greeks must take this weather, these views for granted, right?” Turo brushed a wisp of my long hair to the side, tugging on it. “How can you be moody on such a beautiful day?” His playful, ironical tone was back.

“I’m in mourning for my life,” I replied.

“Oh, it’s too early for Chekhov, Adri.”

My head knocked back and laughter ripped from my chest. He laughed with me, and I liked it. “Ach, Turo, you’re the only one who’s ever understood that line.” I clapped a hand on his leg.

His grin broadened, his taut thigh muscle tensing under my touch.

My phone pinged, and I checked the screen.Mamá. “Good morning, Mum.”

“Adriana.” Whenever she used my full name, it was either for a formal social introduction or because she was terribly irritated. “I heard about a shooting on the news. You were there last night, weren’t you? Why didn’t you say anything? I knew something was off.”

“We were there, yes, but we were already in the car leaving when it happened. There was so much confusion.”

“Is your security with you?”

I knew her anxiousness for my safety would never die. Better she speak directly with the source. I handed the phone to Turo, and he took it, an eyebrow raised.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lavrentiou.” His gaze remained on me as they spoke, his tone professional, calm. I squirmed in my seat. An utter turn on. Something must be wrong with me, a man who spoke with my mother while his eyes lasered over me and my body coiled in heat.

This unusual state of intense arousal had not subsided over the past twenty-four hours. More arousal than I’d felt over the past two years combined, and all because of Mr. Turo DeFuckingMarco.

He handed me back my phone with a lift of his chin. All taken care of.

“Mum, I’d best go. I’ve got a thousand things to do before the party,” I told her.

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“What? With who?”

“Mr. DeMarco?”

“No, Mother.”

She paused. Using the term “Mother” in English always made an impression on her. It was sharp, a warning she was treading into shaky territory. “I’m asking—” she continued, “—because it makes for confusion between a security man and yourself. You want him alert and focused on the environment, not dreamy-eyed over you.”

Turo, dreamy eyed?I suppressed the laugh rising in my throat. “This concern is coming from experience?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I always loved my mother’s honesty. She was blunt, but that characterised her love for me and my brother, uncompromising and fierce. Unconditional.

“Don’t worry, I’m saving that for when we get back to Athens,” I replied, my gaze darting to Turo.

“Entáxi.”I could practically hear her grin at my flippant reply over the phone.Snark was always appreciated between the two of us.

And it was snark because we both knew I wasn’t the wild and crazy type of girl that my mother had been, that my friends were. I’d once had an active social life—parties, clubs, restaurants, bars, holidays. But not anymore, not sincethen. And from the very first, I’d never tumbled easily into men’s beds. I’d only slept with three men, not the twenty or thirty most of my girlfriends had.

My mother liked Alessio, but she wasn’t a fan of his family’s business, so our relationship did not get her official stamp of approval. She put up with it though. She knew what it was to sow your wild oats; she’d been a wild girl in her day. Everyone expected me to be the same, but I’d disappointed them.

Well, not completely.

“Have a good party, darling,” Mum said. “And let Mr. DeMarco do his job.”

“Oh, I will.” I slid my phone back on the table.

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