Chapter 47
Daddy is furious when I tell him I want to use the plane. “What did you do? It was all arranged. What can have happened, how have you fucked this up in so short a time?”
The hush of the big conservatory has always put me on edge. When I was little, I was hardly ever allowed in here with Daddy’s precious orchids. If I was summoned, it was either to be on my best behavior in front of guests, or it was so Daddy could deliver me one of his lectures.
In case all my feelings weren’t jumbled and messed up already, that’s what I feel like now. Like I’ve come to ‘explain myself,’ as he used to say.
“Daddy, I just have to get away from a little while. Not long, probably. But I really want to be a long way away.”
“You want to go to Hawaii?” I know his sulky growl. It comes like a warning.
“No.” I tell him. “Further away. I want some Mediterranean sun.”
His eyebrow raises and his head cocks. “You going to Italy?”
“Maybe, Daddy. But I’m not going to look up family history or take a tour of the relics.” That was what I called all the old Italian and Sicilian relatives, living in the shade in their big, ancient villas like cold, dusty museums.
When I was little, Daddy dragged me all over the Camorra and the islands, ‘paying respects,’ he called it. All of the family were very kind and charming, and incredibly hospitable, but we had nothing to talk about and nothing in common.
I remember Daddy being obsessed that I would misbehave and show him up. And all the Italian relatives tutted about how I was too quiet and acted like I was ‘kept in a jar.’
The life of a mafia princess in a nutshell. Whatever I do, I know I can’t win.
“No, Daddy. I just need some time away. Time to relax and recharge.”
Grouchy, he says, “The yacht is in Cyprus now. I can have it go meet you in a few days.”
“Thanks, Daddy, but no. I just need to get there and back. I have my own plans.”
Accurate. If not strictly true.
Mikey drives me to the airfield. Trusted old Mikey, driving me off into some new and unpredictable trouble. For a moment it feels like old times. But as I catch the watery shine in his eyes, I realize that it’s not the old me in the back of the car.
I nearly crack when he pulls up by the Gulfstream and holds the door open for me.
“Onward and offward, Princess?”
Federico’s ship docked in Genoa for a few days. He beamed as he shouted and ran to hug me the moment I stepped aboard. I stayed in his suite. It’s pretty tiny, but he seems to like it. In the evenings, I caught a couple of his sets.
He’s brilliant at what he does; he really is made for DJing. But the crowd on board were definitely not my crowd. I tried to dance, but I couldn’t lose myself in it. Late, after his sets were over and we had spent too long at the bar, we walked on deck in the moonlight.
Federico tried to persuade me to stay on with him and at least take the next leg of the cruise. He said a serious dose of Mediterranean sun would be bound to start curing my mood.
I was excited to see Federico and to see how well he was doing, and the time we spent was beautiful, but I kept talking about how powerful Alessio is, and how I missed big Bruno.
When I found myself telling Federico that losing Carlo may be the worst thing that ever happened to me, I decided that was too much. Whatever else, I was being a miserable guest and pissing on his party. He was better off without me. The ship was sailing the next day, and when he pleaded with me to stay on to Marseilles, I thanked him but told him no.
“I’m feeling excluded and isolated enough on my own. I don’t want to do it surrounded by people.”
Federico looked hurt and said, “It’s not only ‘people.’ You can just stay in the cabin, walk on deck, swim in the pools. I think you could do with someone to talk to.”
I told him that we would have a better time, but it would have to be another time. My state of mind made me bad company. It was a wrench for both of us, but I think deep, deep down, he may have been a little relieved.
About what I needed, he was right, and he was wrong. He did set me thinking, though. I knew what I wanted, but I couldn’t have any of that so, more than anything, I needed my own space.
None of my calls ever connected to Carlo, or to Bruno, or Alessio. Not even their voicemails responded. I just got ‘unobtainable’ messages.
When Federico’s ship sailed, I rented a convertible and drove slowly with the sun on my side, down the beautiful green and red clay and pale sand of the Ligurian coast. I stayed a week in a gorgeous terracotta BB in the middle of a town that looked like a Renaissance watercolor painting.
The BB, they called it a pensione, was owned and run by an older gentleman with the manners of an old-world aristocrat. He told me to call him Salvo, and his eyes twinkled whenever I did. Even though there were signs in the breakfast and dining rooms about the strict meal times, every time he saw me, he sat me by a window, then brought out a delicious soup, or a bowl of irresistible pasta, then salad, and always finished with a small but sinful dessert, just for me.
He knew that I wasn’t taking care of myself. It crossed my mind that I could have a perfectly excellent life if I just never left, and I let him take care of me. I’m pretty sure that would have suited Salvo just fine.
Baked in the perfect sun, stroked by the soft breezes from the azure and turquoise sea, I couldn’t appreciate any of it. I was dark, cold and empty inside. I knew what I needed to do, but just putting one foot in front of the other and keeping myself fed was as much as I could manage.
What went wrong? How can I have gotten so close to everything I ever dreamed of, and even my darkest, most secret desires, only to see it all burst into flames and go down in no time at all?
I couldn’t decide whether Jago had sabotaged everything, dripping poison into the don’s mind, to have him spread it out into Bruno and Alessio. Who knows, could he could even have got to Carlo, too?
Or maybe I just sabotaged myself. I do that pretty regularly. Too afraid they would somehow find out the truth about the Crespis, perhaps I just pulled at every loose thread I could find until it all unravelled.
There was definitely something about the raid, though, the kidnapping attempt, or whatever it was on Adrianna Bagniola. The more I turned it over, the clearer I got. I knew what I needed, and what I wanted. I just wasn’t sure how I was going to get it.