I tried a smile. "Oh dear, maybe we should better go, so you can take care of her… don't you agree, darling?"
"Oh, well…" Ryan looked at me bedazzled.
"Maybe it would be best," Paolo furtively glanced at me.
Ryan was disappointed. "Okay, sorry again. Then I believe we better go, Paolo, but thank you for an excellent lunch, really, I hope to see you some other time. Say good-bye to your wife from us."
"I will."
He accompanied us to the car. "Ryan, we will talk about the launch soon, okay? I can come to your yacht maybe tonight?"
"I think we have another appointment, don't we?" I pressed Ryan's hand.
"Do we? Oh yes, right, of course."
"Then we can speak on the telephone? Tomorrow."
"Sure, no problem. We'll be at sea most of the day."
"Alright, Ciao."
"Ciao…"
"What happened? Why didn't you want him to come tonight? Has he hit on you for real?"
I shook my head. "No, I… I just want to be alone with you tonight. I don't want to waste the one night we have in my favourite place with him."
"I can't say I mind. But you're not looking good either, Buttercup. Maybe the fish really was off. Do you feel sick?"
"No, I don't."
"Sure?"
"Yes, honey."
"Since when do you call me honey?"
"Since now."
"Uh-uh."
We drove on in silence. Once we had reached Myrtle I excused myself and claimed I was tired.
I went to the bathroom and threw up. I sat for an hour next to the toilet and cried. In the end I dragged myself to my bed and fell into a numb sleep.
I was woken by Marguerita who knocked against the door. "Miss Jude? Are you in? I have your tea."
I opened the door and she inhaled sharply when she saw me. "Miss Jude are you sick? Did you fight with Mr. Ryan?"
"No, Marguerita, no…"
She came in and closed the door. "Are you pregnant?"
"No…" I laughed weakly. "No, something terrible happened today."
"Tell me."
"Ryan mustn't know."
I told her what had occurred.
"You must tell him, he may not make business with such a man."
"Do you think so?"
"Yes."
"But he said he'd beat her black and blue."
"Mr. Ryan is clever, he will find a way."
"I'll think about it. Thank you, Marguerita."
I showered and dressed. Ryan was on the telephone when I came on deck. I lay down on a deck chair and closed my eyes once more. The scene at Paolo di Tullio's house was repeating itself over and over in my mind. I quarrelled with myself about my own part in it and I quarrelled with myself whether I should have said something afterwards, whether I should have helped the poor Federica. Nothing would have happened if I had not opened my mouth to put her into place. If I had really not understood her, I would have thought they had discussed the lunch and not my cheap earrings. If I had openly admitted to speaking Italian from the first, she would have never commented about them in front of me! Where had my middle-class consideration been, the one I had preached to Ryan only three days before?
My head was aching.
"Poppy Jude…," a voice said close to my ear.
"Huh?"
"Poppy Jude, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Maybe you need a grappa to digest all the food? You stuffed yourself."
"Yes, could you get me a large one, please?"
He came back and held it out to me. I drank it down fast.
"Looks as if you needed it."
I felt a bit better.
We went to dinner in a pizzeria by the port. Since I had spewed out the contents of my bowels without being actually ill and since the grappa had momentarily steadied me, I managed to eat an entire pizza.
"How can you eat so much?" Ryan asked. He was struggling with his own.
Back on Myrtle I flopped down on Ryan's bed. "Movie?"
"I think so. I think we need more grappa too."
I pushed a button and the gigantic flatscreen descended from the ceiling while Ryan went to the bar to get the grappa.
We watched The Godfather.
When it was over Ryan drew me towards himself and kissed me.
We made love but I could not let go.
After a while he stopped and looked at me sternly. "What's wrong, don't tell me nothing's wrong. Something's totally wrong. You're just lying here like a corpse."
I started to cry.
"Oh my God, Judy, what have I done?"
"Nothing…" I sobbed. "Nothing."
I blurted out what had happened.
"Shit, baby, why didn't you tell me right away? I could have punched him then and there."
"No, the poor woman would have got the worst of it."
"How bloody awful."
"You know, we don't know if he has done it before, maybe he was under too much pressure and it was the first time. Let's give her the benefit of the doubt and hope she'll make the right decision."
"Hm…"
"Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut?"
"It's not your fault he hit her. You can't blame yourself for it."
"What a bloody jerk."
"Come here," he held me close. "Don't cry. I'll find a solution."
I coiled up around him and soon I fell asleep.
Shiro called at 2 am. Ryan had forgotten to turn off his ringtone. When I was torn from my ugly dreams, I found him next to me with his notebook in his lap, grappling for the phone.
"For fuck's sake, can he ever not call? Will I ever be allowed to sleep next to you without another Pearl Harbour attack?" I screamed, not caring if Shiro heard me on the other end of the line. "Is there really so much important bullshit going on in Japan every day? Do you want me to sleep in here or not, Ryan? Because I think this was the last time I ever did it!"
Thirteen
When I woke I was full of trepidation.
I had dreamed of Ryan hitting me for driving the Bug overboard. It had felt frighteningly real.
I did not want to get out of bed. My head was spinning. I thought about the last week, about what I had enjoyed and what I had not enjoyed at all. I had only been happy when I had been alone with Ryan, without the paraphernalia. Even when I was on my sex embargo I had never been truly unhappy. It had started with Mark and Patricia Karrenberger's blackmailing attempt, had continued at Camille's party where I stood alone on a dance floor with a herd of zombies and was called fat by coke-headed teenagers. It had carried over to the night out in Capri and had peaked yesterday in Paolo di Tullio's garden. Add to it the continuous calls by Shiro and Jacob Weinberg's presence and you had a fine recipe for the worst of nightmares.
At first I had believed I could laugh about the people surrounding Ryan and ignore them, now I realised they were every day's deal. Every day people tried to get on Ryan's good side because they wanted him to invest in their business or themselves. Every day people would suck up to him like our crew, trying to get the better of him behind his back, or people like Paolo di Tullio, who had completely gone off his rails because he feared the loss of his goodwill.
I was privileged, I thought, I came from a happy home, I had never lacked anything, not love, not money, not education. But we had never been rich and people would never have tried to take advantage of us. My family had no influence on anything. My friends could have no motive for being my friends other than liking me. I had no motive to be friends with them either, I simply was, for a lifetime, without doubt or demands. Like Camille had said, she had always wished for normal parents such as mine. Even if my mother was a bit crazy and my dad was sometimes erratic and confused, they had always been there for me, they did not hide away on an Argentine stud farm or on a finca in Mallorca because they could not overcome their dramatic past. The most exciting thing to happen in my family was an escape by Grobi resulting in the tulips' destructi
on.
I missed them. I missed my mother pouring tea to me on a sunday afternoon and lecturing me about the world, my father coming home from a walk with Mary Lou, raging about the neighbours' oak casting a shadow on his vegetables. Mary Lou herself who would press her big head against my chest to have her ears massaged.
I missed shopping with Tina, just she and I, getting a take away coffee at our local Starbucks and slowly sauntering down our quarter's main shopping street, without saying anything at all.
I missed my flat. I missed lying in my bed late at night with Lilly on the line, talking the same meaningless philosophy we had talked when we were fourteen.
At least, I was looking forward to the night.
"When should I be ready for the casino?" I asked Ryan at lunch.
"Eight." He was moody too.
"Will the red dress be too much?"
"No."
"You're monosyllabic."
"Yes."
"Why?"
He briefly closed his eyes. "Because we cannot have a day without you being angry with me."
"I'm not angry with you, I'm angry with your lifestyle."
"That is me."
"No, it's not."
He reached across the table and took my hand. "Judy, I'm crazy about you, but you're so elusive. One moment I think, yes, this is it, the next minute you're shutting me out."
My heart was gripped by an iron fist. "I'm not shutting you out…"
"Yes, you are."
"You misunderstand, I simply find it hard to cope with. I haven't acclimatised to your life yet."
"I think you don't want to acclimatise."
I had nothing to reciprocate.
"Judy, say something, please. You leave me hanging in thin air."
"Please, Ryan, this discussion is futile. It'll work itself out."
"I'm not so sure."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not fully committed to it."
"I'm not? How would you want to know?"
"I can sense it."
"Good Lord, are you a medium now to know how I feel? Ryan, I'm all up for it but we have to find a way we can both be happy and right now, I'm not, but it has nothing to do with you, I feel exposed to this strange world."
"Right…"
"Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Sure, sure. Yes."
We ate in silence.
"I have to work," he mumbled as soon as he was finished and left me alone on deck.
At 5 pm I started with my beauty procedures. I wanted to look the best I possibly could. I wanted Ryan to see it mattered to me. I wanted him to be proud of me. I painted my nails and my toes, I soaked my skin in body lotion, I used an extra large amount of scent, I worked on my hair for over an hour, I even googled to find the make up artists' best kept secrets to make my nose look less snubby.
At five to eight I opened the door and found Ryan waiting for me in the corridor. Myrtle's wardrobe had apparently been equipped with a tuxedo. He was stunning. My breath caught in my throat.
He walked up to me and kissed me. "Incredible, I'm going to Monte Carlo with Grace Kelly."
I beamed like a child.
We came out on deck hand in hand.
"Where's Monaco?" I asked. The coast was still far away and I did not see a city anywhere in the distance.
"It's still seventy miles away."
"I don't get it, you told me to be ready at eight? Do you have special plans with me?"
"No, it took us a little longer than expected, but it doesn't matter."
"Huh? Isn't it only—"
A noise behind me made me fall silent. I turned around and saw the helicopter's blades turn slowly, then faster and faster.
"No…" I whispered.
"Come on, it won't be so bad, I'm going to hold your hand."
I was frozen to the ground. Ryan took me by the arm.
"No!" I shrieked. "Don't touch me!"
"Don't be ridiculous, it's perfectly harmless."
A big lump was forming in my throat.
I tried to breathe. "You know I can't! You know I can't! I told you I can't!"
"Yes, you can."
"No!" I stared at him.
He watched me, oddly detached.
"You did it on purpose," I said.
"I did what?"
Hysteria had me in its grip. "You told Angelo to go slower, you wanted to see whether I'd go into the fucking chopper with you! I know how far it is from Portofino to Monte Carlo, we should have arrived an hour ago!"
"Buttercup, now you're being silly."
"Fuck you, Ryan, fuck off, don't you dare call me silly! I told you I wouldn't get into the chopper! You did it on purpose! I can see it in your face, you're lying to me, you planned it!"
"You'd go in Zermatt."
"DO YOU SEE THE FUCKING MATTERHORN!?"
He said nothing.
"DO YOU SEE IT? THIS IS NOT ZERMATT! WE ARE NOT GETTING MARRIED! AND DAN IS NOT THE BLOODY SWISS MOUNTAIN RANGERS!!!"
"I can't believe you're making such a scene."
I suddenly saw myself, standing there, clutching my shoes. Barefoot in a stupid red dress. Again!
"Go."
"What?"
"Go on your own. Take the chopper and go."
"Fine." He left me standing and boarded the helicopter.
I felt the urge to throw my shoes after him but I would not do it to Myrtle.
Instead I simply stood there and gazed at the helicopter as it disappeared in the sky.
Fourteen
I waited for Ryan on deck.
Myrtle had arrived in Monte Carlo three hours after his departure. The chopper had been back after an hour, but only Dan had been on it.
Ryan returned on foot sometime in the middle of the night.
I saw him coming down the pier from far away.
I went to the rail. "Will you come up here, please?"
He looked up and nodded.
I sat down at the table.
He sat down as well and crossed his arms.
I spoke calmly. "I booked a flight out of Nice tomorrow morning. I already packed."
He did not move.
"I'm sorry."
He wiped his brow. "So you can get on a commercial flight but you can't get on a helicopter with me?"
"Ryan…"
"Why would you want to leave me? I can give you everything you want."
"No, you can't."
"You liked it well enough, Myrtle and the Bug."
"Yes, I liked them but they would not make me happy! It's all this money! Money everywhere, money ruling everybody!"
His fist came down on the table. "God dammit Jude, it's not as if your family were destitute!"
"No! But I grew up with one house, one car, one pony! Not four-hundred!"
"Come on, you went to an expensive school!"
"Yes and it was a sacrifice to my parents! It was something they had to discuss for weeks until they were certain they could afford it! Ryan, I may not know what I want, but I definitely know what I don't want! I don't want to be bribed or blackmailed, I don't want people to be beaten up because of me! I don't want to be sucked up to by everybody around me! I don't want to be with a man who gets out of bed every night to talk to his asset managers! Who has to fly off to New York from one moment to the next! I don't want my children to kill themselves in a Lamborghini or to drug themselves into oblivion because they're so unhappy with all their wealth, I don't want them to be taken advantage of because they are rich, I don't want them to marry people they don't love and who don't love them back, just because they might be the only ones they can trust! I don't want to be afraid they will be kidnapped or blown up by terrorists or raped by pirates! And above all I don't want to be bulldozed down by you and by your strange schemes! I was willing to find a compromise but you had to force it, you had to have it your way, you had to have the upper hand!"
He smiled bitterly. "I see. If that's how you feel, I think you really should go.
"
I wanted to take a champagne bottle and crash it over his head. Why could he not say he would try to do things differently? Why could he not budge the slightest bit? Was there nothing he wanted to offer me?
"I will."
"Do you need money?"
"No," I hissed. "I don't need your bloody money, you can shove it up your arse."
I went down to my cabin and sat on the floor by the bed, feeling nothing but emptiness.
Sometime in the early hours of the morning I walked over to his cabin. I wrenched the door open and marched into his bedroom. He was not asleep. We tore each other's clothes off and I sat down on top of him and rode him in a blind fury.
When it was over I got up again.
"I believe this was good-bye?" he asked blandly.
"Yes."
"Well, good-bye, then." He turned away from me and drew his cover up.
I took my pink suitcase and my red laptop bag and walked to the gangway.
Colin and Rusty nodded when I passed them at the pier. I walked until I reached the waterfront. There I hailed a taxi.
"Aéroport de Nice s'il-vous-plait - Nice airport, please."
"Bien sûr, Madame - Of course, Madame."
A few minutes later we drove past the casino. I swallowed.
"Ça vous displairait si je mets la radio? - Would you mind if I turned on the radio?" The taxi driver asked.
"Non, non, pas du tout - No, no. Not at all."
I closed my eyes.
A gentle guitar came from the speakers. I knew the song well, it was INXS' "Beautiful Girl".
I blinked. Outside the sun rose over the bay and cast the sea into a golden light. I leaned my head against the window and hot tears rolled down my cheeks as I listened to Michael Hutchence, who told me the things Ryan Corvera-Fabergé had not.
Billionaire on Board Page 18
