“You’re planning to get drunk?”
I scoffed. “Certainly not, knowing I’m living under a criminal’s roof. I need my wits about me.”
But who could ever resist a margarita on vacation? Not me.
Chapter 20
Sophie
Dina drove us to a spot on the ragged edge of Vlorë, a place that was trending on Instagram with #happening #regret. It was immediately obvious she didn’t go out much. The bar pulsed with music, sticky, sunburned tourists still damp from the beach and locals who looked like they’d come for music and stayed for far too many margaritas.
I should’ve known we were doomed the moment we walked in and the hostess squinted at me, then said, “Welcome, kicked-out Spice Girl.”
She wasn’t talking to Dina, but in my frame of mind, I chose to take that as a compliment.
I was wearing three-inch sandals and a white dress with no back and no bra support that—frankly—had no business being legal.
“I can’t breathe,” I hissed, yanking the hem down as we stepped fully inside, past sun-bleached tourists in flip-flops and bikinis tracking sand across the floor.
“If you can’t breathe,” Dina said mildly, “they can’t either.”
“They who?”
She gestured vaguely. “Everyone around us.”
We took up a corner on the long bar, angling our bodies to eachother as if to tell everyone to back off. The bartender was quick to show up and take our order, despite several others being ahead of us.
I ordered something called the Euro Crisis—because Dina was my designated driver and also because the irony felt appropriate. She stuck to water.
“So, do you come out much?” I asked, although judging by her eyes darting all around, she did not.
“No, but I’ve heard of this place.”
“From whom?”
“Amir.”
I tilted my head, studying her complexion slightly tinted with blush. She had gorgeous skin and I envied her for being able to conceal her reactions.
“You like him, huh?” I asked slowly. “Are you two dating?”
She stiffened, glancing around. “Don’t ever say that out loud.”Huh?“Do you understand?”
“No, not really,” I admitted. “But okay, I won’t.”
“My family is a bit… They’re sticklers for who I should marry.”
“Ahhh.” The lightbulb came on. “They don’t want you dating a man who works for a criminal.”
She let out a frustrated breath. “No, they don’t want me dating a man who’s wanted by Interpol.”
My mouth parted in shock.
“You’re kidding.” Although, her serious expression told me she wasn’t. I opened my mouth to ask a follow-up question, but she promptly shut me down.
“No, I won’t talk about it and you won’t be repeating this to anyone.”
Okay, then. Maybe Dina was a badass criminal too.
