Page 194 of Dagger in the Sea

“Tricia? Are you there?”

“Just…speechless. Give me a sec.”

“Get over it, and get on it.”

She laughed.

* * *

Rashid wasinterested and wanted to talk.

After three weeks together in London, Adri, Marko, and I jetted directly to the Ionian island of Zakynthos where Alessio met us with a motorboat to take us to Rashid’s private island retreat.

We met Rashid who gave us the complete tour. Alessio and Marko wandered on the property while Adri and I discussed details with Rashid. Afterwards, he left us on the sandy shore to discuss on our own. Alessio and Marko found us on the sweeping stone terrace which led out to the beach.

“This place is insane!” said Marko, dragging a hand through his long hair.

Alessio rested an arm on Marko’s shoulder. “And what do you two think?” he asked.

What did we think?

Complete privacy and an extensive monitored alarm system to rival any other on a small uninhabited island. Twenty bedrooms and almost every detail plated in gold. A huge formal dining room, a grand staircase, commercial kitchen. Marble everywhere. Pristine beaches, natural coves, ancient olive orchards, a citrus grove, landscaped garden with pine trees, towering cypress trees, idyllic palm trees—the urge to fuck my woman in every location had me licking at my bottom lip, cock twitching.

Alessio interrupted my reverie. “Will it do for the club?”

Adri’s eyes danced and she let out a warm laugh as she squeezed my hand.

I said, “It’s perfect.”

* * *

After speaking morewith Rashid and Alessio, Adri, Marko, and I headed back to Zakynthos where we boarded the family plane for Mykonos. We’d have a few days to ourselves before Elektra’s concert. Then Adri’s parents would be arriving the following week for a short vacation before Marko had to return to London to start school.

We arrived on the “Island of the Winds” and a waiting taxi brought us to the house. The moment I stepped inside the roomy, airy structure, I was rendered speechless. It wasn’t just the incredible view of that infinite Aegean blue from the open portico which wrapped around the house. It was…everything.

The polar opposite of the historical aristocratic house in Andros, this house was a sprawling flat roofed and whitewashed set of stone cubes—a contemporary castle of stark white walls and earthy accents of raw stone and wood. All simple austerity and organic, sleek forms etched into an arid bluff overlooking the Aegean. The sharp, pure white color of this and all the buildings on Mykonos deflected the scorching rays of the intense sun but was also an arresting contrast to the rich blue of the sea. Stimulating, relaxing all at once.

It may have been simpler and much less varnished in style than Petros and Liana’s lavish, elegant house in Athens, but there was nothing plain or unsophisticated about this house. Furniture made of textured, organic materials, the hushed blue and gray color tones of the walls and accessories, the long, diaphanous white curtains swelling in the breeze, the pale polished marble floors, and the few pieces of art, the infinity pool stretching out over the bluff and taking me with it—all of it seamlessly created a soothing, tranquil aesthetic.

But it all came down to that sea, always that sea. It hovered, embraced. The sea was the guest, the star, the soundtrack. The sea was the soul of this house. I stood rooted to the spot in the center of the great room, my entire body breathing in the Aegean, the air, the light.

“What do you think?” Adri came up behind me, her arms wrapping around my waist.

I only leaned back into her, taking in a deep breath, my hand clasping her arm which tightened around me.

Marko promptly put on his bathing suit and parked himself in one of the many pale wood sun loungers around the pool out back in the outdoor living area overlooking the sea. He stacked three paperbacks on the low table at his side and plugged himself into his iPod.

“Marko’s got the right idea,” I said.

The three of us spent the entire afternoon swimming and pool lounging. When the heat got too much, we retreated to the shade of the wooden canopy where we flopped on oversized rattan sofas gloriously padded with huge white pillows. Siesta time.

That night, after a dinner of grilled fish, hand cut potatoes fried in olive oil, and a tomato and onion salad all prepared in the outdoor kitchen by the chef and Magda, the housekeeper, an exhausted Marko tracked off to bed early. Adri led me to a lounger by the now lit pool where we finished a bottle of fantastic white wine from Santorini. We stargazed and kissed and felt each other up like teenagers.

Adri turned her head toward the house. “We’re finally alone.”

“Are we?” My eyes closed and I let loose a long sigh.

“The lights inside the house are off. Magda’s gone home.”

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