by Cat Porter
I shut the door of the Porsche and slid Adriana’s arm through mine. She stiffened in my hold. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you and Luca, but I know I don’t like it,” she whispered.
“Between you and me, I don’t know if I like it either.”
“What did he mean that he knows who you are? Who are you?”
The whirr of a motor cut her off. She stopped, her gaze trained down another driveway toward a large garage where one of the doors rolled down.
“Gamóto,” she said under her breath. The Greek equivalent for “fuck”?
“What’s wrong?”
“My parents are home. They were at the opera tonight and then a dinner party after, but they’re home early.”
She unlocked an impressive coffered wooden door, and a grand foyer of gleaming marble swallowed us up. A house that seemed discreet and minimalist on the outside was anything but on the inside.
A Francis Bacon painting hung on the wall in all its ugly twisted splendor, marble sculptures, both ancient and modern, tiny and large were perched on pedestals. An enormous, colorful, perfectly designed flower arrangement lay in the center of a round marble table, and a series of small paintings in ornate gold frames which, at my passing glance, certainly seemed like authentic French Impressionist pieces, dotted the wall.
Adriana was not ordinary rich folk.
A well-dressed, attractive older couple stood in the living room drinking brandies. Their conversation ceased and they stared at us.
“Adri?” her mother said.
“You’re home early, aren’t you?” Adriana said, her voice suddenly casual and in control as she led me into the salon.
Her mother’s head slanted, eyes narrowed. Was it because Adriana was speaking English or because she’d brought a man home? Straight blonde hair edged her mother’s shoulders, perfect makeup. They both shared the same blue gray eye color. “Your father was quite tired, so we decided to cut this evening short. And you?” British lilt to her crisp, confident English and her sharp gaze had me standing taller despite the fading adrenaline in my system.
“Mamá, this is Turo. Turo, this is my mother, Liana Lavrentiou.”
Liana, the Queen, tilted her head at me. Both her perfectly manicured hands were adorned with twenty-four carat gold rings, including a large diamond solitaire. “Hello,” she said.
“Petros Lavrentios,” said Adriana’s father, stretching out his hand for me to shake, and shake I did.
“Turo DeMarco.”
A pair of intense dark eyes held mine. Eyes that assessed and brewed with a blend of coldness and suspicion.
“Turo is a friend from America,” Adriana said. “And he’s coming with us to Mykonos tonight.”
“Tonight? I thought you were leaving tomorrow?” asked Liana.
“We decided to leave tonight instead of in the morning. I just need to grab my bag.”
A tall, teenage boy with mussed dark hair and his father’s large brown eyes tracked into the room. “Adri?” The boy darted at Adriana. Her brother? They embraced.
“We woke you, my love? I’m sorry,” Adriana said.
“Óxi. I was reading and I heard Mamá and Babá come home. Óla kalá?”
“Yes, yes, everything’s fine. Turns out we’re leaving tonight for Mykonos,” said Adriana. “Come meet my friend Turo. He’s from America.”
“Ah. Hello,” Marko said, holding out his hand to me, his sister’s arm around his shoulders. “I visited New York the Christmas before last.”
“Ah. Great city.” We shook hands.
“Where are you from?”
“Chicago.”
A uniformed maid appeared, holding a silver tray with two crystal tumblers filled with an amber liquid. She offered me a glass.
“Thank you.” I put a glass in Adriana’s hands, steadying them in my own. She lifted tired eyes to mine and an ache spiraled in my chest. “Take it, Lovely,” I whispered, and she did. I took the other glass for myself.
“To you, Turo, and your quick reflexes. To your skills,” Adriana said, her voice suddenly shaky again.
“Skills?” Petros asked.
“Survival skills,” Adriana said.
“Here’s to enjoying life,” I said, holding Adriana’s heavy gaze. “To Greek philosophies.”
Liana studied us as she swallowed her brandy. I’m sure she hadn’t missed the fresh scratch on the side of my face.
The liquor slid down my throat and my muscles relaxed under its aromatic, syrupy heat. Shit, this was a Rémy Martin Louis XIII. I’d first tasted it at a special formal dinner for heavy hitters to which my mother had insisted I accompany her. The price of a single bottle was anywhere from two to ten thousand.
“Where is your mafióso, agápi mou?” Liana’s voice had a sharp bite.
“Really, Mother.” Adri’s shoulders dropped. “Alessio is a jewelry designer, you know that. He can’t help what his father does for a living.”
“Kalá,” her mother said, the venom of her ironic tone splattering at her daughter’s feet. The Queen wasn’t buying it. Liana obviously knew who Alessio’s daddy was. “Why the change of plans? Did something happen this evening?” Liana asked as she handed Petros her glass to refill.
“Just the usual with the paparazzi.” Adriana swallowed the rest of her brandy, pressing her lips together.
“Hadn’t we agreed that all that was behind you?” Liana said.
“Liana, really. Not now,” muttered Petros as he handed her more brandy.
Adriana gulped at her drink, wiping at her eyes, smearing her already smeared mascara. Some monster from her past was rearing its ugly head in her rear view mirror and she wasn’t handling it very well.
“Gennaro’s had enough of Athens,” I said. “That’s why we’re leaving tonight. He’s impatient to get back on board the yacht and get to Mykonos.”
“When you come home from Mykonos, why don’t you go back to London, my darling?” Petros said, his voice taking on a firmer tone. “I really think you should consider it more seriously. Then come back in August for the month and we’ll go on holiday all together and relax and see how—”
“I don’t want to go back to London.” Adriana’s tone was incisive, piercing Petros’s goodwill balloon.
“Now would be a perfect time,” Petros insisted gently. “They don’t chase you there, and you have the office, the flat, your friends—”
“Not now,”Adriana said, a hint of sadness in her voice. Whatever London offered, it wasn’t enough for her, it wasn’t right. “Not yet. Please.” She put down her empty glass.
“Télos pándon,” Petros huffed, gesturing in the air. Was that an “oh well”? He was resigned to his daughter’s negative response.
Liana folded her arms across her chest, her elegant fingers stroking a gold medallion hanging from a long, thick chain at her neck. “Are you taking everyone to the house?”
“No, no. We’re staying on the yacht,” Adriana said.
“I know you don’t want to hear it again, Adri, but I’m going to say it one more time—” Liana said.
“What is it, Mamá?”
“You must take a security man along to Mykonos with you,” Liana said. “Your own man. You know better, you—”
“I am.” Adriana touched my arm. “Turo is my new security guard.”
Her parents and brother stared at me as if I’d suddenly transformed into a frog from a prince. “You are a security guard?” Liana’s shoulders became rigid. The interview was underway. “Is this your line of work in America? You are an experienced professional?”
An experienced professional.
My chest tightened. Old photos I hid in a drawer, postcards I’d tucked in the pages of books I would never open, now they fluttered before me.
There was the time I’d smacked a gang member with the butt of my gun, breaking his jaw because he’d set fire to the trash cans at the back of the deli where Mauro was holding court.
Me killing Joey Caliccio, my first kill and
unplanned. Joey had refused to pay his protection fee to the Boss, and my then Capo, Tony, had taken me along to confront him. But Joey had played it tough, refused to pay what he’d agreed to and threatened to go to the cops. He cursed at Tony, and I shot him in the back of the head at point blank range.
“What the hell you doing?” Tony had blinked at me, Joey’s lifeless, crumpled body oozing blood between us on the cement floor.
“Disrespect, it’s the tip of the iceberg,” I’d replied, sliding the safety back into place, my shaking fingers pressing around the gun as I tucked it away.
I’m proving myself, I’m just doing what I need to do, I’d told myself over and over. It hadn’t been difficult, I didn’t think, I just did it. And I liked it. Was that what was making me shaky, the realization that this was easy for me?
Tony had shot me a grin. “True. Very true.” He pointed a finger at me. “I like that.”
I’d swallowed down the bile rising in the back of my throat at the sight of all that blood forming a puddle in the mottled floor. Ignoring the throbbing of my hand, I’d taken in a breath and held the door open for Tony to pass through as if we’d just been at the barber. Later, he told Mauro all about it. Mauro only nodded and gave me that small wink.
My professional experience was a resumé full of blood smeared faces and body parts in basements, foul smelling vans, silencers quickly fitted on guns. Hiding and holding my breath, counting, checking twice, three, four times. Plunging my knife into Med—
“Yes, I’m a professional,” I replied to Liana’s question, my voice firm, pushing back the loud memories and Liana’s prickly suspicions like an arm sweeping across a set table, clearing the surface of every item. All that was visible was gleaming, polished wood. “I’m licensed to carry a weapon and I know how to use it. I run my own business in Chicago and have a background in security and defense.”
“Alessio has his men,” Adriana said, standing next to me. “Mr. Aliberti has his security man from Miami who always travels with him, and Turo will be with me.” She held my gaze, her neck long.
Turo will be with me.
Yes, with her. And her lover, his mafia brother who’s got it in for me, and the uncle who I need to impress. Perfect.
I took in a breath under Adriana’s stare. Was I jealous? Irritated? Yes, dammit, yes, I was. I hoped it wouldn’t take too long to get to Mykonos, because if I had to listen to her moaning loudly as she and Alessio fucked, I’d need a whole bottle of that Rémy Martin to myself.
Her mother’s lips tightened, eyes narrowed. “I don’t want you to be alone.”
“Mother—”
“She won’t be alone,” I said.
Both women glanced at me. The mother’s claws retreated and the daughter’s eyes softened. “Surely, you must have other plans, Mr. DeMarco?” Liana said, swirling the liquor in her glass. “Can you possibly drop everything on your stay here in Greece to accompany my daughter?”
“Actually, I came to Greece to do research for a client,” I said. “I’ve done what I can in Athens. Going to Mykonos fits perfectly into my plans, thank you.”
“Polí oréa,” Adriana said to her mother. She wanted this over just as much as I did.
“Yes, very nice,” Liana replied, her verbal volleyball icy on contact.
Eyeing us both, Petros lit a cigarette, snapping a small, thin, gold case shut. Adriana’s parents didn’t much like her relationship with the Prince of Napoli, and yet she persisted, and on top of that, the girl wanted me along on the getaway. I needed to focus on the fact that I was going to get face time with Gennaro on a yacht and—bonus—in Mykonos, of all places. There was an airport on that island. I’d do what I needed to do and get back on a plane to Chicago.
Adriana led me to the staircase. “I fit into your plans, hmm?” she tossed over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs, a slight smile touching the edges of her beautiful lips, dissolving the worry and anxiety that had etched her face earlier. The little minx was baiting me.
I grinned.
You do. You fit into my hands, my mouth, and I’ll fit into your every curve and hole, baby.
14
Turo
The sight of the Aliberti yacht cut off my breath.
The Allegra was magnificent. The sleek luxury vessel had to be about eighty feet long or so, dark navy blue with blackened glass windows stretching down the length of the boat which gleamed in the harbor lights. The whole damned thing gleamed. Seductive, ominous. Uniformed attendants scurried to take our luggage.
“What do you think?” Adri asked as we followed the others, tracking across the long plank to board.
“I’m not thinking right now,” I replied, and she laughed.
And I was being completely sincere.
My feet touched onto the deck of the massive yacht, and Alessio eyed me as he spoke to a crew member. An icy chill razored over my skin. I had no fucking idea what I was getting myself into. Could it be some sort of trap that he and Adriana had set me up for? The fogginess of their relationship status was irritating, but I had to remain focused on getting a shot at talking to Gennaro Aliberti. Of course, all the while I’d be out in the middle of the water with these people and no chance of escape.
Well, except for drowning.
I was either a foolish idiot, or the luckiest bastard in Athens.
“I’m going to use the ladies room.” Adriana glanced at Alessio and headed down the narrow staircase to the lower deck along with Uncle Gennaro and his Miami Vice bodyguard. Alessio lit a cigarette, his features an aristocratic snarl as he sucked on the smoke. The air between us suddenly thickened.
“Come,” said Alessio. “Let’s have a drink.”
I followed the Aliberti brothers up two flights of stairs to the top deck where there was a bar and a long dining table and, a few feet over, a long banquette with a low table in front of it and two console chairs on either side. I sat down across from Alessio and Luca, and a uniformed waiter appeared and asked what we’d like. Alessio and Luca ordered whiskys on ice.
“Whisky, no ice,” I said.
The engines gunned to life, their vibrations rattling in my gut. The water frothed and churned below us, and the engines whirled and hummed as we pulled out of the harbor. The humid wind lashed at our hair, our clothing.
Alessio eased back into his seat as the barman placed our drinks on the table before us. “Salut,” he said, raising his glass. Luca raised his.
“Salut,” I answered in perfectly accented Italian. We drank.
The harbor receded from us. The dark blue water frothed and foamed in our wake, hints of aqua in the lights. We were at sea. The very dark sea. Alessio continued to study me, Luca looked rather bored and shifted his gaze out to sea.
“Any news about the identity of the shooters?” I asked.
“Their motorbike was found, abandoned and burned outside the city. But no clues as to who they are or who hired them yet,” Alessio replied.
“You have any ideas?” asked Luca.
“Do you think those bullets were meant for you?” I asked.
“Do you think we would discuss it with you?” Luca said.
“Why do I get the impression this is not the first time this has happened to Adriana?”
“Because it is not,” said Alessio
“Was it recently? Another occasion with you?”
Alessio let out a rolling chuckle, a hand going down his middle. “No. Not with me. With her boyfriend.”
Her boyfriend? Wasn’t he her boyfriend? My grip on the glass tightened. Shit only seemed to get more interesting.
Alessio’s head slanted at me. “You should be careful, eh?” He drank, his gaze returning to the choppy dark sea.
“How long do you plan on staying in Mykonos?” I asked.
“For about a week or more. Then going on to Santorini and a few smaller islands, depending on the weather and the winds. The winds are very eccentric here.”
“And you think Adriana will be safe with y
ou after tonight?”
“That’s why you’re here, Turo DeMarco. Will she be safe with you?” his voice snapped, his jaw clenching. He wasn’t so sure.
Luca let out a dark laugh, stretching his arms over his head, muttering something about girl problems in Italian. One of Luca’s bodyguards appeared on deck, sitting down in a low armchair farther up from where we sat, his arms spread wide over the top. His holster and gun visible.
A slight smile I couldn’t quite figure out shimmied over Alessio’s mouth. “You ever been to Greece before, Turo?”
“No.”
“Nothing like the first time.” He chuckled softly. “Your first time will be very memorable.”
Luca made a noise in his throat, muttering an agreement in Italian.
“It’s magical, quite different from other places.” Alessio leaned back in his seat.
“It is,” I said. “Very different.”
Alessio inhaled long on his cigarette as he continued to stare at me, the red glow of the tip flaring brightly. A signal. Enter at your own risk.
“One thing, Turo DeMarco.” Luca’s eyes glinted as he released my name from his lips, the “R”s rolling exotically on his deep voice. “You fuck with my uncle, you fuck with Alessio or Adri, and I will fuck you right back.”
I pushed my glass to the side. “I’m interested in talking to your uncle on behalf of my boss to offer an apology, an explanation for his son’s unfortunate behavior.”
“Hmm. I heard all about it.” Luca licked his lips. “And did you arrange for all this to happen to Adri so that you could get an in with us? With her?”
“Frankly, I don’t even know who Adri is. She literally bumped into me at Island tonight. I was annoyed, in fact, thinking she was probably a set up on your end.”
Alessio’s dark eyes narrowed into slits. “Adri is not some puttana I use for my own means.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I replied.
A harsh smirk slashed Luca’s features. “You may have saved Adri’s life and ours, so I won’t throw you overboard right now like I want to. But all it takes is one signal to Ciro here—” he gestured at Mr. Bodyguard. “—and he tips you over like a doll and you’d be in that cold water and gone, and no one would know.”
