“I hope she enjoyed it,” Claudio smiled. He didn’t consider his shows in Moscow that good. He had sung in the night, and tried to cope with Canna’s need for help after her attempted rape. How he ever managed to go on stage was a mystery.
“I think she did, though I dumped her not long after.”
“Yuri has many girlfriends,” Canna smiled.
“None as lovely as the Countess, though,” Yuri joked.
Claudio chuckled, but he already disliked the guy. A billionaire in his thirties. Old money from his family – the worst kind. At least men who worked for their money appreciated it, unlike pampered rich kids.
“Are you ladies’ man yourself, Claudio?” Yuri asked. “I’m sure you have many women these days.”
“I’m in the process of a divorce.”
“Wise indeed. No need to be tied down when you have plenty of female attention.”
“Claudio has plenty of that,” Canna said. “I had no idea that opera singers had groupies.”
“We have enthusiastic fans,” Claudio said.
“Good money in opera singing?” Yuri asked.
“Good for people like Claudio and Virtuosi,” Canna said. “You could say that I have been lucky enough to peek behind the curtain and see the magic.”
“I’m sure you have,” Yuri smiled. “The Caraceni family’s interest in the arts is well-known.”
Canna smiled, but Claudio remained blank. Yuri’s body language, it spoke for him. The Russian oil baron had designs on the late Italian Count’s young wife. Canna probably knew that.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, it’s time to do my job,” Canna said and went forward to the sail hoisted up the forestay.
“I didn’t know the Countess planned to bring a guest along on my yacht,” Yuri said to Claudio.
“Is it a problem?”
“No, of course not. We have a spot spare anyway. We can take up to 22 people. You’re welcome if the Countess thinks it’s a good idea. I assume you’re looking to invest in a yacht?”
Why else would he be there? Lie. “I’m considering it.”
“Yes, well, one cannot be a respectable businessman on the Mediterranean social circuit each summer without his own yacht. Business must be good for you.”
“Very good. We have carved out a niche in the market with our music. There are many classical crossover performers out there, but we stuck to pure opera and people love it.”
“Yes, crossover music, it’s more for those who like pop music, but want to add the little class to their listening. The more pure form of opera is for elitists who don’t want to be put in the same category as less educated listeners.”
Claudio paused. He didn’t care who listened to his music, or why they did it, as long as they enjoyed it. “We have a wide range of listeners.”
“I’m sure. You were number one in America, no? If you can win over those cultureless masses, you must have one hell of a marketing strategy.”
Claudio gritted his teeth. This guy was an asshole. Claudio had sung all over in the United States, and the audiences had been welcoming and well-versed in what they enjoyed. But it seemed easier not to argue with this guy.
“Have you known the Countess long?” Yuri asked.
“We have moved in the same circles for a few years, but we have been closer this year.”
“I only met her a few months ago. I knew her husband, but he seemed to keep the Countess tucked away somewhere. I only saw them together once at a dinner. She is an object that the Count needed to keep hidden away, and rightly so, because everyone wants their hands on that prize.”
“Canna is a private woman.”
“You’re lucky to be her friend, then. She seems to keep herself busy. I have requested her to come to Moscow several times, and she refuses.”
“I think she is busy with all her businesses.”
“I’m sure I will wear her down,” Yuri said. “All women can be bought.”
Claudio opened his mouth to object, but Yuri moved way in the direction of Canna and her sail.
“Morning, Claudio.”
Claudio turned to find young Doug on the dock, his arms full with a large box. “Hey,” Claudio replied and took the box so Doug could get on board. “You’re a bit late, aren’t you?”
Doug laughed and took his box. “Let’s hope no one notices. I’m not the only one with a hangover this morning.”
“I’m impressed by the fact everyone is feeling rough but still turned up for work so early.”
“If we don’t show up, we don’t get invited back for another regatta. Goodbye, pay cheque. You’re here early.”
Claudio shrugged. “I’m nosey, I suppose.”
Doug nodded. “Yuri has arrived now, so we have to be on our best behaviour. The boss doesn’t take any crap. However, he has his eyes on Canna most of the time.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep. I didn’t see you or Canna at the yacht club last night. Did you two… you know…?” Doug threw him a cheeky look.
“No, we didn’t have sex.”
“Sorry, I was kidding. Everyone makes jokes, but no one likes Canna in that way.”
“They don’t?”
“No way! Bedding Canna would be like bedding your sister! She is one of the boys.”
“Yuri doesn’t think so.”
Doug sniggered. “Yuri is an idiot. But he pays the bills for this regatta. Nobody wants to go back to ordinary life.”
“Seems not.”
“Hey, I Googled you. If I get a copy of your CD, could you autograph it for my mother? She loves gifts when I travel with Team Savelli.”
Claudio smiled. “Sure.”
“You never know who you’re going to meet at regattas. I’m just a regular guy, sailing on a boat steered by an Italian Countess but owned by a Russian oil billionaire. Canna started with nothing just like me. She is inspiring, strange scars and all.”
“I hadn’t thought of her like that.”
Canna came back in Claudio’s direction, her bare feet dodging the damp patches on the deck. Before she reached him, she turned around and looked at the sail hoisted in front of her. “She’s all good, gents. Let’s pack her away,” she called out.
“Good morning, madam,” Claudio said behind her as Doug went forward to help with the sail.
Canna swung around and glanced over her sunglasses. “Whoa, nope, too bright.” She pushed her sunglasses tight against her pale face.
“The pain is the punishment for last night’s sins.”
“Whatever they were.”
“You don’t remember?’
“I remember going for a swim.”
“This isn’t the place to talk.”
“Please, I’ve seen more debauchery on board a boat than anywhere else.”
“I meant your little explosion, and admitting to suffering from depression.”
Canna didn’t even look at him. “The crew breakfast is at the yacht club in twenty minutes. You are welcome to join everyone.”
“Could you eat anything?”
“Have you ever seen me eat?”
“Occasionally. I can imagine you need a blood-red steak right now.”
“You’re trying to make me sick, aren’t you?”
“You bet.”
“You think you can do a better job at making me sick than beer, rum and bobbing up and down on the sea?”
“Maybe.”
“Hey, boys,” Canna called out. “Claudio here has bet that he can make me throw up.”
“That girl has a cast-iron stomach. I hope you didn’t bet much,” Ryan called back.
“He thinks a bloody steak will do the job and make me puke.”
“Canna with blood in her teeth? Scary thought,” Doug laughed.
Canna spun around and lunged at Claudio and sunk her teeth into his neck, to the laughter of everyone on board. Claudio didn’t know what to do; her little tongue tickled his skin, and he couldn’t help but laugh. He had licked blood off her
neck before, but hopefully she wasn’t about to return the favour. Canna let go of his neck, and she burst out laughing like everyone else. “Stop being mad at me,” she whispered to him.
“Okay.” His tone suggested resignation, but he couldn’t help it, she always made him smile.
Canna tiptoed and kissed him on the lips, to the surprise of everyone else. “I promise not to suck anyone’s blood,” she said. “The hangover isn’t that bad.”
Claudio waited as Canna ran forward on the boat and help fold up the sail. He got a few glances from the others; she had given him a kiss and raised their suspicions. But none as much as Yuri’s suspicions. Yuri looked concerned.
~~~
Being a drug addict had to come in handy at some point. One thing Canna knew how to do was maintain her composure even if she felt like shit. Even on bad days, either high on pills or coming down off them, Canna managed to show up for work. A few of the crew were not so lucky, like poor Doug who threw up over the side. It was lucky that Yuri didn’t come out on the water with them. For a rich playboy, Yuri had a strong dislike for nefarious behaviour. By the time evening rolled around and the crew dispersed to enjoy free time ahead of the race start, Canna had overcome the hangover.
Canna and Claudio sat in the opulent yacht club lounge over dinner and drinks. She noted Claudio’s disapproval when she ordered wine, but sometimes more alcohol was the thing needed to recover from a party.
“You know,” Claudio said as he leaned back in his armchair, and looked out the huge windows over the marina, “we are almost being normal.”
“That’s a bit insulting,” Canna joked. “I’m not a fan of normal.”
“Sitting here, having dinner, chatting… like a normal couple.”
“We have done plenty of couple things before.”
“Such as?” Claudio squinted. There were nights hidden away in hotels, talking about drugs and abuse. The day and nights where they made their feelings about each other clear while in relationships with other people. There were nights when they lied, cheated, stole, beat the crap out of people and tore at each other with rage. But few ‘normal’ moments.
“Aha! There was that night in Madrid when went out for dinner,” Claudio said.
“You mean when we stood at your local bar and spent the bulk of the time kissing?”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t normal. That was lust that should have stayed in your apartment, like the other fourteen nights I was there.”
“I like Madrid-Canna.”
“You speak as if I have multiple personalities.”
“You do!”
Canna sniggered. “You have no faith in me.”
“Why should I? You’re weird, my unpredictable pretty piece of meat.”
“Touching, Claudio. I’m not yours.”
“I know. You’re not wearing the plastic Mickey Mouse watch I bought for you.”
Canna glanced down at her wrist; she wore her heavy sailing watch, but the £5 watch was in her bag. She always had Mickey with her. “You know I still have the watch.”
“Maybe Madrid-Canna can wear it when she comes home with me to spend some time as London-Canna.”
“Maybe she can. Don’t you like Malta-Canna?”
“Malta-Canna is testing my patience. I want to know she is all right.”
“She is all right. Like you said, it’s been a tough year.”
“Maybe Milan-Canna is pushing too hard and needs to step back from work.”
Canna paused. “You make me sound like a bad person.”
“I don’t think you’re a bad person. You have a lot going on, and I need to know you won’t go back to drugs.”
“Why would I? Do you think that I enjoyed being a drug addict? I like being rich, and I like manipulating people and getting my own way. But drugs? That wasn’t fun.”
“It’s not just drugs, I don’t want you to hurt yourself in any way.”
Claudio made it sound like her time in rehab taught her nothing about refraining from cutting herself with blades. She hadn’t cut herself in over six months. “I think you just ruined our ‘normal’ evening.”
“I love you, Blinky. Your strange joke with biting my neck is the closest contact we have had since we got to Malta.”
“When you’re on stage, I don’t fuck with what you do. Don’t fuck me with me at work. This is my life and my job. I’m working at the moment. I’m not a woman who drops everything for a man.”
“I didn’t suspect you were.”
“I lived in the shadow of my last husband for years. There is no way in hell I will be that woman again.”
“You don’t need to be.”
Canna glanced back over her shoulder. They were more or less alone in the corner. “Do you doubt that I love you?”
“Never. Not for a second.”
“Then why are we having this conversation? Should I be worried that you will run back to your wife?”
“Of course not.”
“Then lighten up, Chachi.” Canna held his gaze across the small table between them until her phone rang. Her eyes flicked to the screen, and she smiled. Well, well, well. When she left the wedding of Virtuosi tenor Erik Vogler and music director and Holly Stafford in Corsica a month ago, he had promised to call. “Dane!”
“Hi, Canna. How are you?”
Canna grinned. At once, she could imagine Dane Porter, sitting at home in his cheerful little London townhouse, with his long legs stretched out onto the coffee table in front of the couch. He would run his big hand through his sandy brown hair and his blue eyes would sparkle. She missed Virtuosi’s English gentleman tenor. “I’m great. How the fuck are you?”
“Okay. I’m sitting here on my own. It’s cold, and I put the fire on, and it made me think of you. Where are you?”
“Malta. I have a yacht race tomorrow. I’m keen to know how Claudio copes with being at sea.”
“He’s there with you?”
“Yes, you didn’t know that?” Canna glanced up, and Claudio folded his arms over his chest.
“We have a week off work, but he didn’t say anything about seeing you.”
“Well… it’s a bit weird. Sorry.”
“No…” There was a long pause. “No, it’s okay. We broke up. You’re with him now.”
“Do you want me to be remorseful?”
“No.”
Canna held her tongue for a moment. Canna had loved Dane, in her own way, not the way he deserved to be loved. “It’s nice to hear from you.”
“I promised to call.”
“You did.”
“How are you… you know…”
“With being a recovering drug addict? You can say it. I’m okay. I’m managing for now.”
“I’m glad… is Claudio with you now?”
“No,” she lied.
“I miss you, Canna.”
Shit. “Have you been drinking?”
“A little bit. It’s a lonely evening, and you’re not here to brighten things up.”
“I never brightened things up, just messed things up. There is a difference.” Claudio frowned back at her. “Are you still seeing Rebecca? How is she?”
“She is okay. She got a job on a television show, doing makeup for car accident scenes. I haven’t seen much of her these last few weeks.”
“Good for her. She is a good makeup artist.”
“She is.”
“I guess since she travelled through America with you during your tour, you’re used to having her around a lot.”
“I guess.”
“Rebecca is in love with you, Dane. Once she finishes work, I’m sure she will make up for lost time.”
“She isn’t even in London.”
“Aww, poor baby, it sounds like you’re pining for her.” Claudio smiled at Canna’s teasing as she spoke.
“It’s you I miss.”
“I doubt that, Dane.”
“I miss you at work! Virtuosi is a mess.”
“May
be you all have burn-out. You promoted your album and sang all year.”
“Something is wrong with Henri and Lea, and they run the project.”
“Yes, Claudio told me.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong. We need you.”
“Lea is your manager, I just fetched the hot drinks and luggage.”
“Well, it’s obvious Lea can’t cope on her own. Holly is holding things together, but she is only on staff to deal with the music. If we can’t even agree on what music should be on the album, then Holly is useless.”
“Are you asking me for advice, or are you moaning?”
“Both, I guess.”
“Stop drinking and go to bed. Rest your voice. Next week things will improve. I promise.”
“How?”
“Have I ever steered you wrong, Dane?”
“Frequently!”
Canna laughed, and Claudio’s frown returned. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Take it easy for a few days, and then go back to work. It’s not worth the stress. Once Rebecca is back in town things will seem easier.”
“I think about you, not Rebecca.”
Canna swallowed hard. “You’re drunk.”
“So?”
“So, listen to yourself.”
“Sorry. I love Rebecca.”
“Good.”
“That doesn’t make the love between you and me a mistake.”
Canna licked her lips. She didn’t need Claudio knowing any of this. The last thing she wanted was to deepen the divide between Claudio and Dane. Sure, they had smoothed things over, but things could sour again. “Non siamo stati uno sbaglio,” she said in Italian, so Claudio didn’t understand.
“No, we weren’t a mistake.”
“Ma noi siamo finito.”
“Of course, we are over. Sorry, Canna. Blame the loneliness.”
“That’s okay. Everyone has ‘what-if’ moments.”
“Do you? About you and me?”
“Yes, I do. Vorrei sistemare le cose tra di noi.”
“You don’t need to fix things between us. We parted friends.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Take care of yourself, Dane. Stop drinking.”
“Whatever you say, Canna.”
“That’s the spirit I like from my subordinates.”
Dane laughed. “I will let you go. I’m sure you’re busy being important and special.”
Violent Daylight Page 6