Page 96 of Dagger in the Sea

“Oh. Of course.” She took his drink.

“Needs to be just right?” I asked.

“Always. Why bother?”

Yes, why bother indeed. Why put up with less than what you know is the best. It displeased him and he did something about it without dramatics. A smile tugged on my lips.

An eyebrow flared as he fiddled with the edge of a napkin. “What is it?”

“I like that you demand quality. Of the right thing in the right way.”

The drink returned and he sipped as the waitress waited. Somehow she knew better than to take off. “That’s good. Thank you.” He visibly relaxed and she took off.

The jazzy music was low and we talked easily as the place filled up. “Do your parents think that you and Alessio are in a relationship?” he asked.

“Only that we see each other whenever he’s in town or I’m in Italy. My mother doesn’t approve. She always says, ‘You’re wasting your time, Adri.’ Or‘He’s a dangerous man, Adri.’

“I think I like Liana.”

“She’s probably had you looked into already.”

“She won’t approve of me either then.”

I sipped my drink. “And what will she find?”

He licked his generous upper lip, his thumb toying with the rim of his glass. “Rich boy. Illegitimate son. Honor Society. Championship athlete. Young executive. Rising figure in the criminal underworld.”

“He’s a dangerous man, Adri,” I quoted my mother.

He let out a dark laugh, his gaze settling on the sea once again. I wanted his attention. I wanted him to let go of last night. I’d pushed those images in the sea today. Swimming at Vitáli with Turo, his skin against mine, the sun licking our flesh. I thought he had too. But now, with the setting of the sun, he seemed to have lapsed into a bitter introspection, and I wanted him to stop. I wanted to make him smile, laugh again.

“So, I thought maybe you’d like to try authentic street food tonight,” I said.

His stern gaze remained on the sea as he drank. “Sounds good.”

“We call it ‘dirty’ here.”

His eyes darted to mine. Troubled eyes, shielded. “Dirty?”

Success. “I see that entices you?” I asked.

His fingers slid up and down his glass. “Lovely, my thoughts have been very, very dirty all day.” He took a long swallow of vodka and rolled a piece of ice around in his mouth, crunching down on it. Those teeth nipped at me. “Tell me about this dirty,” he said.

“You call it junk food in America. Something messy to eat, not exactly healthy for you—dirty.”

His lips tipped up. “Yeah, let’s do dirty tonight.” He drained his glass with his eyes on me and hailed the waitress for another round of drinks.

Darkness had now settled over the seaport, and the twinkling lights from the shops, the boats, and the stars lit up the thick sky. We left the bar and walked down the port to Avra, asouvlákirestaurant filled with families, boisterous kids at tables stretching all the way to the waterfront. An ache scrambled over my skull. After the perfect cocktail experience the last thing I wanted was a noisy crowd.

“Shall we get the food and bring it back to our hotel and sit on my veranda and eat?”

He stroked my back, bringing me in to his side. The tumult of the crowd was affecting him too. “Good idea.”

“I’ll order.” I stepped up into the restaurant’s kitchen which was blazing hot with live grills, roasting meats twisting on spits, oily pita breads being flipped over at a rapid pace, and a frenetic staff shouting directions and wrapping food tightly in paper and foil. I ordered, and once we got the selection ofsouvlákiandgyroand two Fix beers, Turo paid at the register on the other end of the long counter. I grabbed an extra wad of napkins and shoved them into the food bag.

He took my hand firmly in his, and we made our way through the crowded high street where the shops were lit up. I stopped at a jewelry store and loitered over a glass cabinet filled with blue eye charm necklaces and bracelets.

“I’ve noticed these everywhere,” Turo said. “In Athens too.”

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