Francesca
I expected one of those deep-sea fishing boats. Or maybe a sleek speedboat. I wasn't expecting a gigantic 30-meter megayacht with double-decker decks and a swimming pool.
Tinted windows ran along the side, hiding the interior from prying eyes. Perfect for Mafia business, I suppose. The name on the back read, Il Destino.
Excellent. Even here I couldn't escape Ravazzani's concept of destiny.
"Is this your boat?" I asked as he helped me aboard.
—It's my father's. Don't you like it?
—What's not to like? This is a five-star floating hotel.
Giulio laughed. "Come, I'll show you around."
He spoke briefly with one of the crew members, and then we set off. Each deck was more impressive than the last. Large living spaces, lounges, lush cabanas, and a beach club poo
