And then Bash charges Dario, and no one gets there in time, and they’re a pile of elbows and left hooks on the floor of the plane. A flight attendant screams and drops a plate of tapas on the floor. Rocco and I dive in and get the two of them separated after a struggle. Then Rocco punches his dad himself, and we all gasp. Dario stumbles backward, holding his split lip.
“You fucking drug women? Who the fuck are you?” Rocco spits out.
“I didn’t drug her!” Dario insists. “Markus! Markus did it.”
“Markus?” I repeat as my brain scrambles to figure out who the fuck that is.
“Uncle Markus?” Rocco’s scowl deepens.
“Yes,” Dario confesses and yanks his pocket square out of the pocket of his blazer to mop up the blood leaking from his lip. “He spent that summer with us. It was right after his divorce, and he was full of money and lord knows we needed it. Bash, you were wining and dining him and begging him to invest. You would have given him the world at that point. Mirabella needed the cash.”
“I wouldn’t have given him my daughter,” Bash barks.
“And I wouldn’t either!” Dario replies heatedly. He heaves a deep breath. “I didn’t know he was drugging anyone until I found him trying to drag a barely conscious Frankie into one of the bedrooms on the yacht. I kicked him off the boat immediately.”
I glance at Frankie, and I can see this is all news to her just like the rest of us. I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to research the hell out of the GHB – gamma-hydroxy acid - and exactly what can happen when you’re slipped it. Frankie could have been just conscious enough to walk and maybe even mumble some words, but she wouldn’t necessarily remember a thing when it wore off.
Frustrated, Dario throws his bloody pocket square he’s been moping his bloody face with onto the floor. “I saved her. I didn’t hurt her. I told Antonio to put her in a bathroom to sleep it off so it didn’t ruin the party.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Rocco,” Dario addresses his son like he just had an outburst about something as trivial as a curfew, instead of his father covering up an attempted rape. “Do you think Mirabella or our family would have survived a drug scandal at that point? It was our boat, our party, and my fucking brother. We had to keep the police out of it. And she would have been fine if that idiot hadn’t left her on her back.”
“Because I fucking know what do to in that situation?” Antonio is on the verge of tears now. “I was barely fucking twenty-one. I was drunk. I had no clue what to do.”
“You call the fucking cops yourself asshole,” Rocco yells at him. “Is this why my father loves you so damn much even though you barely perform out there?”
“Fuck you!”
“It is, isn’t it?” Rocco looks horrified. “You gave him a spot on the team for his silence.”
Dario doesn’t deny it. Frankie takes a breath that makes her shudder. “I need air.”
She starts for the door, which is still open since we’re delayed. Bash moves to follow, but Adelaide grabs his arm. “Let Billy.”
I rush off the plane after her.
The rain is coming down sideways in thick sheets. Neither of us have any protection, and we’re both soaked in seconds. But I don’t care and neither does she. I reach her and pull her into a hug. She clings to me. “How the hell did you know?”
“That I loved you? Well, that’s a long story,” I tell her, raising my voice to be heard over the storm.
“That’s not what I meant,” she replies sternly but when she lifts her head she’s smiling ever so slightly at me. “What happened to me.”
I explained everything Ava told me. “Where is this Markus asshole now?” I want to know. “Can we have him arrested?”
“He died about six years ago now,” Frankie tells me and she frowns and shakes her head. “Aneurysm. I went to the funeral with my dad and everything. I should have spit on his grave.”
“We can add that to our to-do list when the season ends,” I reply and kiss her forehead. It feels like a bold move. Because I’ve laid my heart out there, but she hasn’t done the same.
She hugs me tighter though. “So, Nick picked a hell of a week to take vacation.”
I let out a whoop of laughter.
Then suddenly Dario and Antonio are storming by us, toward the airport. Clara yells our name from the stairs, waving us back to the plane as her umbrella flips inside out in the wind. Frankie breaks our hug but takes my hand in hers as we run back to the plane.
Inside, the flight attendants are cleaning up the spilled tapas. Rocco is pacing. Clara has opened up my carryon and is pulling out a change of clothes for me. Adelaide is holding Bash’s face in her hands, whispering something to him, but she lets go as we enter.
Bash turns to his daughter and pulls her into his arms, ignoring the fact she’s dripping wet. “Ma louloutte, I have so much to say and so much I need to know.”
