by Carla Caruso
‘Ciro Ballas it is.’ Winnie carefully noted down the name as though her life depended on it, aware she was gouging the page with the ballpoint tip. Anger did that to a girl. Finally, she looked up, her steely gaze prompting him to do the same. ‘So why did you lie – to me and the rest of town?’
Alex sighed. ‘I deserve that, and that’s why I want to explain. Why I played my cards close to my chest, why I felt I couldn’t trust anyone.’ He gave her a searching look, before persisting. ‘My father, as you probably now know, is a powerful shipping magnate. To become that way he’s had to be ruthless, do things I haven’t agreed with. Like secretly selling off my grandfather’s business – the one he inherited, which helped kickstart his own empire.’
Alex shook his head. ‘My grandpa had humble beginnings, starting out with a borrowed dinghy, fishing in the waters where he grew up. His dream was to one day have the family name on a seafood processing company – and he broke his back to achieve that dream. He built up the company so it had an international reach as a seafood importer, retailer and wholesaler.
‘Later, when he handed the family company over to my dad, he had one request: to keep the original arm of the business going. To continue the family legacy and keep those who’d worked by his side in employment. My father agreed, but while my grandpa was on his deathbed, he did an about-face, selling off the family brand to a conglomerate.
‘The company got swallowed up and the conglomerate’s name was stuck over its products.’ Alex’s voice grew quiet. ‘My grandpa’s health, which had been on the mend after a stroke, deteriorated once he discovered what had happened. That his son had reneged on his promise. Effectively, my father’s betrayal killed him.’ Alex’s mouth twisted bitterly. ‘And my grandpa found out the news, which had been kept hush-hush in the family for his own wellbeing, all thanks to my former fiancé.’
‘Olympia,’ Winnie offered, the sound seeming to come from somewhere else.
Alex nodded, sighing again. ‘Unbeknown to me, she’d been tipping off the media about my family’s whereabouts – including where my grandpa was recuperating in hospital. That was the final straw. She did it all in the hope of scoring her own gossip column or TV entertainment reporter gig without any qualifications. She was all sweetness and light to my face, of course – and I thought she loved me – but at the same time she was betraying my trust.
‘Thanks to Olympia, who blabbed to the press about it, my grandpa discovered my father was selling off the original family brand when he picked up a paper. And the next day,’ Alex looked somewhere over her shoulder, ‘he died.’ He rubbed his newly shaven jaw. ‘I didn’t want to be part of that world, that life – the treachery – any more, so I skipped town. But I should have faced up to my father a long time ago, told him how I really felt, instead of just running away.’
A thick silence hung between them. Winnie broke it by clearing her throat. ‘You know, I knew a lot of that already. I did some reading on the internet last night, trying to find out exactly who you really were. Are.’ Her voice caught. ‘But it still doesn’t explain why you lied to me, why you tarred me with the same brush as Olympia. I thought you would have known me better by now. Seen my true colours shining through. Trusted me.’
Alex breathed out through his nose. ‘I know, I know. And I know now I’ve behaved no better than Olympia – or my dad – in telling half-truths,’ he held her gaze again, ‘lying to the people I care about. But I got so wrapped up in my own Greek tragedy – so self-absorbed – I couldn’t see the light of day. Couldn’t see how my deception might be trampling on others’ feelings —’
‘How it was making a fool of them,’ Winnie cut in.
‘Yes, that,’ Alex said quietly, kneading the back of his neck. ‘And the worst bit about playing out the charade in front of the entire town,’ he looked deep into her eyes, ‘was deceiving the woman I love.’
Love. Her heart leapt and her spine tingled at the word, but for once Winnie wasn’t going to let her emotions run away with her. She had to dig in her heels, think with her head. Not get swept away.
He placed his hands on both her knees, sending pins and needles up and down her thighs. ‘We belong together, Winnie. We challenge each other and we bring out the best in one another. You made me believe in love again. Trust again. And don’t think I don’t beat myself up knowing how much of a mess I’ve made of things, how I’ve risked having you slip through the net due to my own – my own stupidity. You’ve changed me.’
Winnie’s lips trembled. ‘Don’t, Alex. Put yourself in my shoes. How can I ever trust you again?’ She shook her head. ‘Anything that comes out of your mouth?’
He reached out to grab her hand, placing it over his heart, her pen slipping from her grip. Not that she’d been using it beyond printing his name, though the voice recorder still rolled. She shivered at the touch of his warm fingers enclosing her own. ‘Because, deep down, you know me, too, Winnie. And it doesn’t matter about names, titles, truths from the past. You know how we fit together.’
Heat swirled through her body, but it was quelled by sudden anger. She tore her hand from his and jerked her knee back. ‘I understand why you closed yourself off in the face of everything that happened. Why you’d come not to trust anyone. I’m just hurt you couldn’t have found some way to trust me earlier. To confess before your father arrived on the scene.’
‘And I was all set to tell you before he turned up, I swear. The night of the wedding, I’d decided to tell you everything. But you’re right. It was too little, too late, and I’ve certainly learnt my lesson. I’m not a perfect person. I’ve made my mistakes. But I’m trying to change. Grow. Do you . . . do you think you could ever forgive me?’
Winnie looked into his green eyes and saw only truth reflected back. For the first time, the security screens had been lowered. Kingston seemed to have changed him, too. She did believe he understood the extent of his actions – that he hadn’t meant to hurt her, even though he’d made a royal mess of things. That he was contrite, willing to change. Still, she was reluctant. It didn’t mean their relationship could work in the real world. He was no longer who she thought he was.
‘I don’t know, Alex. I don’t. Aside from the fact I can’t rely on you, I’m – I’m a small-city girl at heart. From Adelaide.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not cut out for your kind of world, as hard as I’ve tried to be. I know that now.’
Alex’s gaze didn’t falter from hers. ‘And I’m originally from a tiny Greek fishing village. Plus, despite my father’s desires for me to be part of his empire, all I want to do is fish half the year and sail the world taking photos the rest. Honour my grandfather’s legacy. Maybe one day I’ll start a food company of my own, like pappou’s – a boutique one. Who knows, though? It might not even involve seafood. It might be vegetarian-inspired.
‘For now, though, Kingston’s got under my skin. I mean, I’ve bought a ute, picked up Aussie slang, and just got my skipper’s licence. More importantly,’ he touched her face, ‘you’ve got under my skin. I couldn’t want any more.’
Winnie’s voice wavered. ‘But I read about your family last night. Your father owns an island, for Pete’s sake. Your family has mansions, yachts, private jets, luxury cars, friends in all the right places.’
‘Not friends, just people who want to be seen with them,’ Alex cut in. ‘But none of that matters anyway. The point is I’m still the same person. Just with a past.’
‘I had you sleep on my beanbag!’ Winnie exclaimed.
‘And it was a little lumpy,’ he said, offering her a half-smile, ‘but doable.’ He leant in closer and she breathed in his unforgettable, manly scent.
She shook her head, her tone soft, disbelieving. ‘Most people don’t walk away from money.’
He edged even closer, his breath warm on her skin. ‘I’m not most people. Who wants sycophants kissing their feet for no good reason?’ His face suddenly grew serious. ‘I have a proposition I want to make you, if you’ll hea
r me out.’
‘Okay.’
‘Fishing season’s almost over. How would you feel about coming sailing with me for a while? Could you still freelance from the back of a boat? It wouldn’t be five-star luxury, unfortunately, but I’d love some help putting words together for some possible articles – eco-travel, National Geographic, that sort of thing.’ For a second, he almost looked shy. ‘If you’d be interested at all, as my partner in crime – and girlfriend. It could be a clean slate.’
Girlfriend. Clean slate. The words tossed around in her mind. She drew in a shaky breath, his proximity beginning to put her in danger of a coronary condition.
‘I don’t know. It sounds stupid, but I saw two crows earlier on.’ She directed her gaze at his shirt pocket. ‘And I took it as a bad sign. For us.’
Alex’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He shook his head. ‘Two crows mean joy. They mate for life.’
Like Mrs Mannix’s French angelfish.
‘Oh, right.’
Somehow she’d become as entwined with nature as the locals whose livelihood depended on it. But he was staring at her, still waiting for a response. Suddenly, Winnie’s own version of ‘Islands in the Stream’ started up in her head, reminding her of the song on the radio during their trip to the vet. She gnawed on her lower lip.
‘I think I could handle that. The sailing. And . . . the rest. So long as you promise to tell me the whole truth and nothing but the truth from now on.’
‘I promise,’ he whispered.
‘And feel free to call me “Edwina” from now on. That’s my real name – the family one I share with my mother and grandma.’ Maybe it was time she turned over a new leaf, too. Accepted all parts of herself and her history. Including the fact that she was more like her mum than she cared to admit: an animal lover; creative and sometimes chaotic; prone to being blindsided by love. Perhaps that’s why her mum irritated her. At the same time, though, Winnie was wise enough to learn from her elder’s mistakes.
Alex moved his hands to cup her face. ‘Edwina. I like that.’
‘Where did you have in mind to head first?’ Winnie asked breathlessly, prolonging the moment, almost scared it might all suddenly evaporate before her eyes.
‘The world’s our oyster,’ he said smoothly. ‘I’m open to suggestions.’
She licked her lips. ‘Right . . . better start poring over my atlas.’
Before she could think of anything else to say, he drew her into his lap, and her notepad hit the floor. Her heart practically burst out of her chest as his luscious mouth came down on hers, warmth flooding every fibre of her being. Bubbles of happiness and joy exploded inside her. All her earlier reluctance melted away. It felt oh so right. Somehow she’d done the unthinkable: converted an emotionally unavailable man into a very available one.
For a fleeting moment, she imagined how irritated Bruna would be to discover she’d landed herself a fisherman, as predicted, and one from a wealthy family at that. Not that his background mattered one iota to Winnie. She’d fallen in love with Alex well before she knew, and honestly didn’t care if he never saw a penny of his family money.
Who would have thought it? The vegetarian and the fisherman. But unlike Winnie’s parents, as opposites attracting, she and Alex somehow worked.
When they finally came up for air, she snuggled into his chest. She was certain she could feel his heart beating against her own. ‘You know, I just had a thought – wouldn’t it be funny to celebrate our plans together – this – with dinner at the Big Lobster tonight? Surely they have some vego options. And a back entrance.’
Alex’s eyes twinkled at her. ‘It’s on me. But,’ he winked, ‘I’ll drive.’
She shook her head solemnly. ‘No, but I insist.’
Then those luscious lips of his were on hers again, preventing any more playful bickering.
From: Mary Delaware
To: Winnie Cherry
Subject: A million thanks!!!
Dear Winnie and Alex,
Hope you’re both well.
I just wanted to email my thanks for putting together such a fantastic wedding spread for my daughter, Eden, and son-in-law, Flynn, in Beach Life magazine.
It was such a gorgeous day – most things went off without a hitch (pun intended). But the surprise helicopter landing and change in weather added to the spectacle. Even if they stressed out Eden a little initially.
And didn’t she look stunning???
I have had lots of messages, texts and emails from people, passing comment on how much they enjoyed perusing the article. I’ve even mailed off copies of Beach Life to family and friends overseas to share the special day with them, making it an international publication now!
The magazine has obviously proven very popular by the amount of people who have read and noticed the article. Hence, I was saddened to hear you’ve both since moved on. But I’ll be reading every forthcoming issue of Beach Life without fail in honour of what you started.
Once again, thank you very much for immortalising Eden and Flynn’s big day in print – and hurry back to Kingston, won’t you now?
Kindest regards,
Mary (aka Mrs D)
P.S. I heard you’re currently sailing around Croatia. Half your luck. It’s a beautiful place. The hubby and I once went on a beautiful cruise there, though I’ll spare you the details . . . wink ☺
P.P.S. Just wondering, Winnie, if you think you might be back in time for netball season next June?
Acknowledgements
A million thankyous to Destiny Romance editors Carol George and Sarah Fairhall for helping turn my half-baked idea into a fully-fledged story and being there with gallons of patience and support. I couldn’t be more appreciative!
To former Coastal Leader journalist Maddison Lawrie for the support, help with any niggly questions, and hooking me up with a ride on a cray-fishing boat – you rock!
To Kingston SE skipper Peter Paige and son Callum for taking me out cray-fishing one morning – I promised there’d be no lovey-dovey stuff on the actual boat and there wasn’t!
To my parents, Rocco and Carmela, and sisters Natalie and Daniella for their constant encouragement.
To my dear friend, Jennifer Kaczmarczyk, for the vegan inspiration, taking over the Adelaide Chick-Lit Book Club when I got preggers, and just being one of those genuinely nice people you rarely meet in the world.
To the Novelist’s Circle, South Australian Romance Authors, and Romance Writers of Australia for the motivation and helping me find my way in the publishing world.
To our animal-shelter tabby, Luca, for his catty-cuteness while I’m typing.
To my husband, James Elsby, for putting up with me when I was a cranky-pants on deadline and in the final weeks of pregnancy, and just my oddball-ness in general. Plus, helping me nut out plot points whenever I was stuck – you truly are a saint.
And finally to my twin boys for waiting “until Mummy had finished working” before making your joyous arrival into the world . . . my life is now complete!
About the Author
Carla Caruso was born in Adelaide, grew up amid a boisterous extended Italian family – yet somehow managed to become a bookworm.
Carla always wanted to be a novelist, annoying the kindergarten teachers by dictating long, detailed stories to them. It just took her a while to realise her childhood dream - journalism seemed a more practical course. Her media career has included stints as a newspaper and magazine journalist, government PR and fashion stylist. These days, she works as a freelance journalist and copywriter. She began seriously writing fiction three years ago when she went freelance full-time.
The romance genre appeals as she is a sucker for rom-coms (especially if Channing Tatum is in the mix) and likes to think her Italian ancestry means she lives with passion. Hobbies include watching trashy TV shows, fashion (her mum named her after Carla Zampatti!), astrology and running. She lives in Adelaide.
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First published by Penguin Books Australia, 2013
Copyright © Carla Caruso 2013
