“Trying to kill me, woman?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Let me take that for you,” John said and took the whopping cake from Claudio. “I will get the kitchen staff to slice it up for you. Thanks for singing, Claudio.”
“No problem, John, happy to help.”
Canna pulled Claudio off the stage and into the corner of the huge party. They stood against the metal rail along the water’s edge. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“It’s your birthday, and it’s Christmas. You’re my wife.”
“I know.” Canna glanced down at her wedding ring. “I’m not going to forget.”
“I said, in a message a few days ago that I wanted to talk. You replied that I knew where I could find you.”
“So you flew to Australia? What about your son?”
“Casamiro is thriving in London. Veena is coping very well and is heading to Cartagena for Spanish Christmas next week. Can’t I see my wife for her birthday? I have flown across the world today.”
“In first class, no doubt.”
“Well, yeah,” Claudio smirked. “It was pretty comfortable.”
“Come on, let’s go for a walk.”
Canna led Claudio down the dock towards Vincitore, parked right at the end. Most of the yachts, lined up with their sterns against the dock, were in darkness. “Why the sudden need to visit?”
Claudio looked Canna up and down a few times. She wore a short pair of white shorts and a simple sleeveless blue blouse, cuts and tattoos all on show. It was the first time Claudio had seen his name tattooed on her foot. Her Santa hat kept slipping on her shiny black curls. “Now is the first time I feel ready to see you.”
Canna sighed. “I love you, but I’ve been angry. I haven’t spent three weeks pining for you, Claudio.”
“You’ve been getting a boat ready, hosting lunches and making friends.”
“I’m a long way from home. No one judges me for being the Countess here. No one looks down on me. No one cares what went on in Italy.”
“So, what, you’re just hiding from reality in Australia?”
“I can never run from all that has happened and all I have done. I am full of remorse and regret. But at least out here I can breathe. I can recover. But getting out of bed every morning isn’t easy. Dr. Riberi calls me every morning to coax me out of bed and to face the world. You broke my heart in Milan. I’m blocking out reality right now. I will self-destruct if I don’t. I can’t forget that I’m a murderer.”
They stopped at the familiar sight of Vincitore and Canna jumped up and stepped over the lifeline. She put her hand out, and Claudio leapt up on board. “Wow, feels like forever ago that we went to Malta.”
“The world has changed an awful lot since then.” Canna sat down behind the steering wheel, and Claudio sat opposite, the black carbon fibre wheel between them.
“Do you just hate me now?”
“I’ve been mad at you, I won’t lie. You think very little of me if you suspect I would have sex with Dane Porter.”
“With all that has happened, can you blame me for being suspicious?”
Canna sighed and rested her elbows on her bare thighs. “No, I suppose not. I’m sorry for not telling you about my trip to Helsinki, but it was innocent. I needed to get away for a few days; I was angry at you, and it seemed like a good idea. It was another terrific way to self-sabotage my life. But I stood at a happy occasion and realised how I would never fit into a happy life. I won’t have family occasions to visit and enjoy. I will never fit in anywhere.”
“You fit in, with me.”
“No, I don’t, Claudio. I wouldn’t have made the mistake of visiting Helsinki if I did fit with you. I trusted Dane; I was sober and he wasn’t, and I thought it was safe to walk him to his room. He kissed me, and I told him that I loved you instead, and it changed my morals on casual sex. He kissed me again, so I hit him, and wore everything he had drunk as punishment. I did nothing wrong, except lie about my whereabouts.”
“I made an error in believing Dane! I know that!”
Canna shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. It’s not the point. We don’t work very well, Claudio. Every time things get hard, one of us takes off somewhere. After we got together, you took off for months, and I went to rehab. We had to heal from our emotional affair. Then, we met in Corsica and went to Madrid, but split because our lives didn’t fit together. Then we met up, went to Malta and London, but then the baby came along and I panicked and left. I came after you in Madrid, and we went to Milan, and then you believed Dane over me and went back to London. We can’t keep doing this.” Canna took off her Santa hat and tossed it on the deck.
“This isn’t what I want!”
“What do you want?”
“I want a life where I look at you every day, and I see the same happy smile I saw while you were playing cards earlier. I was watching you for half an hour and you seemed so happy, chatting and singing karaoke, fiddling with your nose stud.”
“I’m not happy, I’m in a lot of pain. But I have to keep moving. My medication, it helps me attempt to be happy.”
“You are still taking it?”
“I get to take pills and be well. It’s a double win for me”
“Do you want to break up with me, Blinky? For good?”
“I couldn’t leave you alone even if I wanted to, Claudio. As long as I know you are out there in the world, then I will want to love you.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“Living our lives!”
“Like you and your new Corsican boatyard?”
“Yes, Christophe Troublé sold me the factory. I have secured, okay bribed, a contract to build ten identical single-handed around-the world racing yachts, and they must be built in France, so I picked Corsica. Savelli Marine in Bergamo has been shut because Caraceni Marine was closed by Guillermo Savelli. I will open the new yard as Medici Marine.”
“Catchy name.”
“Thanks. Christophe is here for the racing to Hobart, and we did a deal on the factory he owns there. The golf course next to the factory resisted having a boatyard next door, so I bought that too, to shut them up. Christophe owns the other factories in the area. That’s how I met Abigail.”
“Your new best friend.”
“Abigail is a recovering alcoholic and former Valium addict. Christophe helped her through her addiction, and they are a delightful couple, if not twenty years apart in age. They are what I hoped we would be one day.”
“Which is?”
“Solid when disaster strikes. But we are weak.”
“To be fair, our enemies have been very strong, like the whole Caraceni family.”
“The family has decided to let me walk away.”
“How did that happen?”
“Half a billion Euros was the cost of buying me out. That was my worth in the company. But I agreed to walk away with nothing in return for my safety, and your safety. They will leave us alone, knowing I will keep my mouth shut, and they keep their money. Giuseppe’s brother, Guillermo, has let me go, and I believe him when he says I’m safe, as long as I stay away from Italy. If I ever blab about what I know about the Caraceni’s, you and I will each get a bullet.”
“Can you stay away from Italy?”
“What am I going to go back for, to clear my good name? That ship has sailed.”
“Nice pun.”
“Thank you.”
The sound of music filled the air; the dancing at the yacht club had begun. Canna and Claudio just sat in silence, eyes on each other.
“I saw your Royal performance on YouTube this morning. You did a tremendous job. I thought Henri was going to cry!”
“He’s disappointed that the Virtuosi project is dead.”
“Why is it dead?”
“Why? I quit, that’s why. I won’t work with Dane. He won’t work with me. Henri and Erik don’t want to work with us.”
“And it’s my fault.”
“No, Dane and I need to take the blame for our own behaviour.”
“You can’t leave Virtuosi.”
“I can. Don’t worry; you will get your investment money back. It’s not like I won’t ever get another job.”
“True, but it won’t be like Virtuosi.”
Claudio just shrugged. “Henri and Lea asked me to stay on, but I don’t know. I want to be with you.”
“Would that make you happy?”
“Short-term? Yes. Long-term? Not sure. You gave up half a billion Euros to escape your life, so this is the least I can do.”
“I’m not saying I will take you back if you leave Virtuosi. I never said anything like that.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m sick of talking, Claudio. Now I just want to live my life.”
Claudio glanced over his shoulder back towards the yacht club. “Do you want to dance?”
“Dance?”
“Yeah. You said you didn’t want to talk, so let’s dance instead.”
Claudio jumped off the boat and put his hand out for Canna. She took the kind gesture with a smile, but Claudio wouldn’t let go once they started walking down the dock together.
“You’re holding on very tight,” she commented.
“What’s the problem? Scared someone will see us?”
“No.”
“Does anyone here know you’re married?”
“Sure they do. I told everyone that I got married a few weeks ago.”
“And they didn’t think it’s odd you were alone here?”
“No, not at all. Lots of people are away from their loved ones at this time of year, just to do this race. It’s the best and most dangerous in the world. Even finishing is a prize in itself.”
“So you all gather each year to try and kill yourselves?”
“Pretty much.”
They stepped off the dock and back into the crowd on the yacht club balcony. As they moved through the party towards the dancers, Claudio noticed the French redhead throwing him an evil look. “Your addict friend is trying kill me.”
Canna glanced over to see Abigail looking at the pair. “Don’t mind Abi. She is just like me, broken, loud, and distrusting.”
“Does she have a mouth like a hurricane, too?”
“You bet! Christophe loves her anyway.”
“I spoke to him a moment ago while I was waiting to go on stage. Seems perfectly normal.”
“You normal guys love girls like me and Abi. They will be my neighbours in Bonifacio.”
Claudio took his wife in his arms as they began to dance slowly in each other’s arms. “Can I move to Corsica?” he whispered in her ear.
“What about Casamiro?”
“I can arrange something. I’m a part-time father and need to balance that as we go along. There is no immediate solution to me and Veena.”
“And work? Virtuosi? Pembridge Crescent?”
“I can’t be there without you, Blinky.”
Canna closed her eyes as she pressed her cheek against Claudio’s. “We keep promising to start over together. It all comes to nothing.”
“We have to stop pushing against each other.”
“I don’t know if it will work.”
“Can’t we try?”
Canna took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “I thought we had been trying.”
“We need to make a commitment to be together all the time.”
Canna giggled. “I’m leaving tomorrow, without you.”
Claudio pulled his face from hers and watched her smile. “Will it be crazy like in Valletta when we went sailing?”
“Much crazier. About 400,000 people will line the shoreline, a dozen helicopters will follow, ferries carry spectators and we all jostle for the $10,000 prize for getting out of Sydney harbour first. I will win. Christophe says his boat Vainqueur will beat Vincitore, but there is no chance, we are ten feet longer than them.”
“His boat is named Vainqueur and yours is Vincitore?”
“Yep, ‘Winner’ in French and Italian. One of us will win this year, and I bet Italy is going all the way! We both have an Australian television presenter on board tomorrow to do live reports as we race from the harbour. Once we leave the harbour, they have to jump overboard and get picked up by a camera boat.”
“That sounds crazy!”
“It’s a bit dangerous, but they wear lifejackets and get picked up quite quickly. Hey, you could come along, and I could toss you over the side!”
“I don’t know if I could do that!”
“You are prepared to take a leap of faith with me, but not off a boat? Dude, it’s much safer in the open ocean!”
Claudio laughed, and Canna joined him. “Why should I do something that crazy?”
“If you do, I will do something crazy; a New Year’s resolution to promise not to leave your side for a single day next year.”
“What if you’re sailing?”
“I’ll stay on shore, or you can come sailing.”
“What if I am with Casamiro?”
“Then I will puree warm apple and change nappies.”
“What if…”
“You’re back with Virtuosi?”
“I doubt that will happen.”
“Claudio, go back, and I’ll come with you. Dane can get fucked. Virtuosi could work with three, or we will find someone new.”
“Are we calling a truce?”
“You and me? I hope so.”
“I guess we need to sneak off if I want to give you a kiss, Little Miss. Private.”
Canna took his mouth with hers and gave him a slow, tender kiss. With her arms wrapped around him, Claudio had nowhere to go and became submerged in her affection. The moment had everything their wounded souls craved and needed. For the first time, Canna let Claudio feel the innocence in her. She was the young barefoot sailor girl, not the mob wife or billionaire, and he wasn’t the polished opera star or struggling part-time father. The pair were just two souls madly in love when all the other crap had been stripped away. With every kiss, Canna’s love for Claudio felt like the most precious possession he could receive, without the sensation of being tied down or contained. It wasn’t just a physical intimacy.
“Okay,” Claudio said when Canna let him go. “You still kiss like a crazy person, and in public now.”
“No one cares who we are or what we’re doing,” Canna replied with a gentle smile. “We are free.”
“I can’t believe I have just got here, and you’re leaving tomorrow.”
“The race record is just under two days. I plan on getting that record thanks to the rough weather we’re expecting. You should fly down to Hobart and meet us there. It’s a grand entrance on Constitution Dock, a big celebration for being the first boat up the Derwent River into Hobart. It will be my greatest success.”
“Confident much?”
“I may be hopeless at everything else, but I can sail a yacht.”
“Can we be happy now?”
“Let’s be happy on Constitution Dock in Hobart. After the race, I will never leave you again. I promise.”
CHAPTER 47
SYDNEY
Claudio woke early on that already hot morning. As the sun rose on Boxing Day, as he heard Australians call December 26, Canna had left. Claudio had kicked the covers off the bed in the night while he slept naked in bed with Canna. They had made love and fallen asleep with the window still open. Claudio climbed from the large bed and stood at the window, the three-storey house giving him a grand view. On the lower floors, he heard banging, and he assumed it was the other crew members getting ready to race. Sydney harbour glistened in front of him; the opera house and harbour bridge in the distance, the yacht club marina nearby. New Beach Road filled with cars, media crews and sailors heading to the boats.
Claudio turned away from the warm sunshine and looked around; a note sat on the desk across the room.
The skipper’s briefing got rescheduled due to weather changes. I will be ba
ck soon to get dressed and packed. I have to leave the dock by 10am.
Claudio glanced at the clock. 07:30. Any number of tasks would need to be completed before Team Medici went to sea. He had to prepare to be dumped in the mouth of the world’s biggest natural harbour. Claudio’s heart raced at the thought.
Canna came storming into the bedroom as Claudio got out of the shower. “Hey, good, you’re up,” she said as she moved around the room. “I have a security pass for you. The deck has been closed already so crews can get ready without the public getting in the way. We need to get to the boat as soon as possible. You can stay here tonight, and fly to Hobart tomorrow. Can you arrange all that yourself?”
“Sure. Good morning, by the way.”
Canna paused and smiled. She skipped over and kissed him. “Good morning, husband. I apologise. The skipper’s briefing didn’t go well, and the media are all over it now.”
“Why?”
“It looks like a beautiful Aussie day outside right now, but not out in the open ocean, or further south. That’s where we’re all heading. A storm is brewing, and they’re nervous to send us to sea. Last time it happened, six people died, and 100 boats retired. It’s going take every ounce of courage I have to get my nineteen crew safely to shore in Hobart.”
“Okay, I’m already terrified.”
Canna paused and rubbed her face. She bumped her stud and her wriggled her nose to put the piercing back in place. “I’m scared, Claudio.”
“Can you just pull out of the race?”
“I can; it has only cost me a million Euros so far to do this race!”
“Wow, okay. What do the other skippers say?”
“The guys are all happy to go ahead, and all their wives and children are upset.”
“I’m upset.”
“I want this trophy, but I’m not prepared to risk anyone’s life to get it. We will start, but if I don’t think we can cope, then we will turn back. Delay your flight to Hobart until tomorrow afternoon. The first twelve hours are looking okay, but after that, and when we are deep in Bass Strait, in open waters, they have predicted hurricane winds and sixty foot waves.”
Violent Daylight Page 46
