Page 56 of Dagger in the Sea

“Right.”

“What do you really want, Adri?”

“I used to know, I used to be so sure, but a couple of years ago everything screeched to a halt, and I felt like I didn’t fit anymore. Didn’t fit anywhere. That’s something I’d never questioned before.”

“Fuck fitting in. Fuck what everyone else thinks or expects from you.”

“Turo—”

“You seem to be on top of things today for Alessio’s party. I couldn’t understand a word of what you were saying, but you were in full command of every conversation you had.”

She made a face. “It’s just something I know how to do. It’s fun for me.”

“No, Adri. It’s more than that. I can tell.”

“I believe in Alessio’s jewelry, in his art. That makes it a passion project. I also convinced him to make it a fundraiser for my mother’s charity, so it’s important to me that tonight is a success.”

“That’s the best, to combine your interests like that. To be passionate about your work.”

“Are you?” Those blue gray eyes of hers sharpened suddenly.

“I…certainly like the benefits of what I do.” I tossed my napkin on the table. “You must have lots of experience as a party-goer.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I do.”

“What I mean is, you must know what works and what doesn’t. What might excite a certain type of crowd and what won’t.”

“I know what I like at an event,” she said. “For Alessio’s party I envisioned the way I wanted the space to feel, what kind of emotions or responses I’d like to arouse, the colors, textures. A certain energy I wanted to create that is only enhanced by the people who are there. Every event has a distinct spirit or personality. And Alessio’s work has a distinct character that I want this event to reflect and celebrate.”

I raised my glass at her. “Well said.”

A smile flickered across her lips at my honest compliment.

“What did you study in Switzerland?” I asked. “Something you had a passion for or something your parents made you study?”

Her chin lifted. “Something I wanted to study.”

“Which was?” I waited to hear “Art History” or “French Literature” or “Decorative Arts and Design of the Early Twentieth Century.”

She said, “Economics, with Chinese and Russian languages, and then a Masters Degree in Business.”

A flash of adrenaline spiked through me.

She rolled her eyes. “And a lot of literature so my head wouldn’t explode.”

My fucking dream woman. I refilled her wine glass.

She sipped, her eyes on me. “So, now that you no longer work with your mother, you are a full-time security specialist or was that a little white lie for my parents?” she asked.

My white lies, and they are many, are for everyone and especially for me. I have them stacked up all nice and neat ready to deal them out like cards.I fingered the base of my glass. “I am a security specialist. Among other things.”

“Oh? What other specialties?”

“Customer service, human resources. Public relations.”

Our eyes met. There was no concern, worry, or panic. Only amusement. Intrigue.

I raised my wine glass at her.“Stin iyiá mas.”

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