“How can I make it up to you?”
“You can’t!” Claudio realised he had his arms in the air. He lowered them; he was getting very worked up and nasty. Canna was calm and collected.
“Is this about Yuri?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“You lied to me about that, too.”
“For your protection.”
“You just don’t get it, do you?” he screamed. “Here’s a thought to get into your stupid head. Why do you think I can’t cope with the truth? Why do you think I don’t want to know the truth? When I said I wanted to be with you, it was because I wanted to be in your life, good or wicked! I was prepared to sell my soul for you!”
Claudio stomped away and left Canna on the quiet path. He stepped inside his building, and didn’t raise a smile when he passed the doorman. As the elevator doors closed, he saw Canna enter the main door. Too late, bitch.
Claudio waited for the old and slow elevator to take him to the top. When the doors opened, there stood Canna at the top of the stairs, out of breath.
“You can’t beat me,” she panted.
“I can try.”
Claudio went inside his apartment, aware Canna came in behind him. You want a fight, bitch? You got one. “I don’t love you, Canna.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true. You just saw me kissing another woman, didn’t you? Can’t you take a hint?”
“Kissing your dead brother’s girlfriend? Classy.”
“Aren’t you mad?”
“No, shit happens.”
“I’m not giving you another chance!”
Canna sighed. “You’re exhausting.”
“I am?” Claudio squealed.
“Yes, you are! You’re so much bloody work. All the time, I feel as if I am trying to shield you from things while you go about your pretty little life.”
“What things?”
“Like my problems!”
“Like I said outside, I didn’t want to be shielded.”
“Fine! I killed Yuri. He tried to rape me while you were on stage. I tried to gouge his eye out in my defence, but failed. In desperation, I hit him with a bottle, and he died. I shut up so I wouldn’t go to prison. I shut up so Virtuosi would look innocent and untouched by the situation. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“At least it’s the truth!” Claudio swallowed hard. It was harder to hear than he expected. He imagined Canna scared and in danger from Yuri, knowing that Claudio wasn’t coming to her rescue. He no longer cared that the man was dead. Yuri deserved it.
“I didn’t kill Giorgio, and we didn’t have an affair. I knew I was about to have my name dragged through the mud, so I pushed you to one side for your safety. Only it didn’t work.”
“Photos of you and I in the Italian papers pushed DVD sales through the roof all over Europe.”
“How do the others feel about that?”
“I think they enjoy a little notoriety, but we are safe. Veena was less impressed. The story shut down quickly.”
“Caraceni control the media. The editors who ran the stories were all threatened and stopped reporting the situation.”
“Must be nice to run a whole country.”
“It’s not that much fun, especially when stuck in rehab.”
“Is that where you’ve been?”
“Clearly you don’t check your phone.”
“I don’t need to check it.”
“If you did check your phone, you would know that I’ve been at Beneserre, for a psych evaluation. I passed, by the way. I’ve been taking my bipolar meds for two weeks.”
Claudio looked at her sideways. She did look different. Calm, collected, neat and tidy. “And?”
“And the first week was fucking hard. The side effects are vicious. I was hoping you would come to my aid. You didn’t, so I got my shit together on my own.”
“What does it feel like?”
“Like the dark cloud that sits over me has blown away. It’s early, but it’s surreal.”
Claudio didn’t want to admit that he was pleased Canna had started treating her depression at last. “How great for you,” he said sarcastically.
Canna knelt down in front of him and took his hands. “What do you want me to say, Claudio? This is who I am! Things aren’t going to get any easier. I’m probably going to die young. I’m never going to be perfect and never going to be free of the Caraceni crime ring. This is all you get!”
“Terrific!” Claudio tried to pull his hands away, and ended up dragging Canna a few steps as she held on tight.
“This is all you get!” she repeated. This is all I am. This is all we will ever have! I want you to marry me as we are now! This is all we will ever be, broken and disillusioned by the world. This is it. Marry me, here, in Madrid. Now.”
“That’s not even possible!”
“Do you have all the paperwork for your divorce?”
“Yes.”
“I have everything I need to say I’m widowed.”
“Paperwork in Spain takes months, especially if a foreigner is involved.”
“Not if you know a lawyer, who knows a lawyer, who has a brother-in-law in the office where the paperwork could be completed in a day. Let’s face it; it takes a matter of minutes. Spanish ineptitude makes the job longer. Besides, I started preparing the paperwork after you proposed to me in London. We can get married tomorrow.”
“You want to cheat your way into a Spanish marriage licence, so I can marry you?” Claudio cried. “You, the woman up on murder charges in Italy. How did you even get here?”
“I got released without charge. They took my Italian passport, so I took a private plane on my New Zealand passport under my maiden name. The idiots didn’t even think of that.”
“So you illegally fled a country where you are up for murder, to come here and propose to me, so we can fraudulently get a marriage licence and get married.”
“Yes. That is about right.”
“You’re insane.”
“My psychological report to the Italian police said I’m sound of mind. I will let you into my life if you want. But you need to understand that the Savelli’s don’t let anyone go again.”
“I don’t care. It can’t be all bad, can it?”
“Most of time it’s awesome,” Canna smiled. “Claudio, I fucking love you. Shit, I’m even taking anti-depressants so I can pretend to be normal. I’ll wear an apron and cook you meals for when you come home from the recording studio in London. I’ll babysit Veena’s child, little cutie that he is. I will do what you want. If you don’t want to be spared on details like how I killed a Russian oil billionaire or why I’m jealous that you had a baby with someone else, then fine! I will share.”
Claudio just shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you will marry me tomorrow. Trust me, I can make it happen.”
“By tomorrow something else will have gone wrong!”
“Probably.”
“Why did you have to be the woman for me?”
Canna shrugged as she stood up again. “Don’t know. Just am.”
“We can’t be like this. We can’t go for weeks without knowing where the other is and what’s going on between us. It’s not normal.”
“Then marry me tomorrow and never leave me again.”
“With our illegal wedding licence?”
“It will be legal. Completely legal, just acquired in a back-door cash-in-hand fashion.”
“I can’t guarantee you’ll show up.”
“I’ll show up and even wear a white dress if you like.”
“I had a wife, I had a whole life already. Why did I have to meet you?”
“I’m here now, Claudio, telling the truth, and I’m offering everything. Do you want it or not?”
Claudio didn’t have any words left; he burst into tears. The stress was too much. Canna pulled him into her arms and he rested his head on hers. She caused all the pain, and she was the only thing that could mak
e it go away.
Canna looked up at him and ran her hands over the tears on his cheeks. “This is the last day for this, I hope you realise that fact.”
“Last day for what?”
“Tomorrow, you’re going to be married to Canna Medici. We won’t be having an affair. You’ll be my husband, and everyone will know about us. The whole world. We may have a private wedding, but it won’t be a secret relationship. We won’t be playing games, we won’t be spending time apart, and we won’t be keeping secrets.”
Claudio smiled. “Then can I spend one more night with my mistress?”
“Not until you accept my proposal. It’s the last proposal that will go between us.”
“How many have there been so far?” Claudio asked as he held her in his arms, her hands warm on his cheeks.
“That’s two from me, and at least two from you. We’re done.”
“Yes, we’re done. I’ll marry you tomorrow.”
“And we are going on a honeymoon in Australia. We will leave once you are free of your Virtuosi engagements, and be back before you spend Three Kings Day with Casamiro.”
“You thought of everything.”
“Now, let’s stop standing in the dark and start with the make-up sex. We’ll be busy with the wedding day sex tomorrow, so let’s get the angry rushed love out of the way now.”
“I admire your confidence.”
“Sono infatuata di te. Senza di te, io non sono niente.”
“Which means?”
“Which means you need to learn fucking Italian. No, it means ‘I am infatuated with you. Without you, I am nothing’. That’s the truth.”
“How do I say ‘without you, life is a living hell’?”
“Senza di te, la vita è un inferno. And one more Italian lesson for you - voglio fare l'amore con te.”
“Which is?’
“I want to make love to you.”
“Helpful phrase.”
“Sí, señor.”
CHAPTER 39
MADRID
Claudio woke up on his wedding day, to find the sun shining. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he put an arm out to find the bed empty. He rolled over to find a note on the pillow. Canna had left him a letter.
Had to go back to my hotel to get my bag. I need my medication.
Sorry, it couldn’t wait.
I still love you
Claudio laughed to himself. Canna felt the need to remind him that she loved him, as if he didn’t believe her yet. Was she going to pull together a wedding for them today? He hoped so; God, his whole body ached at the thought of it not coming true. Finally, Claudio Ramos was going to get the girl, tie down his stupid drug addict mistress. Imagine the look of shock on everyone’s faces when they found out! Veena wouldn’t be impressed. His parents would be mortified. He toyed with the idea of calling them, to warn them that he was getting married. After all, they lived not far away, they could attend. But he could already hear Melina’s voice whining about how he was making a colossal mistake. He could hear Yago tell him to do as his mother told him. No, they could wait for the news. No one could spoil today.
After a quick shower and a cup of coffee, Claudio stood in his kitchen and waited. Until Canna returned, Claudio wasn’t going to take anything for granted. The doorbell gave immense relief.
“Fuck, I’m glad you’re up,” Canna said as she came in the door. She had a suitcase in one hand and carried something on a coat-hanger, covered in a long protective bag in the other. “I forgot to steal your keys to get back inside!”
“I’ll give you a key of your own,” Claudio said and kissed her cheek. “Everything okay?”
“Good.” Canna dropped her suitcase and gave him a thumbs-up. “I took my pills on time, so my crazy is suppressed for another day.”
“How long do you need to take the pills?”
“At this point, it will be forever. If they make me well, then I will just have to do it. I don’t give a shit if there is a stigma against people who have meds for mental health issues. They are helping me.”
“People who have issues with that fact need to look at themselves, not those who are mentally ill.”
Canna nodded. “I really appreciate that.”
“There is no shame in suffering a mental illness, Canna. Depression is a real illness. All injuries and conditions are treated, and one that is brain related is no different.”
“I knew I fell in love with the right dickhead.”
Claudio snorted. “What’s in the bag?”
Canna unzipped the long bag. “Ta-da! A wedding dress! Well, a dress that’s white. Close enough. I saw it in a store window just down the street. I banged my fist on the glass until they opened the shop early.”
Claudio closed his eyes and imagined Canna pounding on the entrance of a designer store on Calle Serrano. When they saw her black platinum credit card, all would have been forgiven.
“It’s hard to dress appropriately for how fucking cold Madrid is today!”
“It’s December, Blinky. It happens. I bet Milan is cold, too.”
“Colder than a witch’s tit,” Canna commented as she went and dumped the dress over the back of the leather couch in the living room. There was snow in Aosta! I don’t do snow.”
“It snows in London sometimes.”
“I know. But I will have you to keep me warm. Okay, dude, here’s the plan. We’re getting married at the registry office at midday. The guy who does it speaks Spanish, so you’re going to have to guide me through it. But we can take all our paperwork, and they do the ceremony thing, and we’re married.”
“Romantic.”
“Nothing says romance like Spanish bureaucracy. But I called a guy, he’s a wedding photographer. He can take some photos of us done up in our best afterwards.”
“Our best? I can’t marry you in jeans?”
Canna paused. “Only jeans? Because if you’re topless, then yes, by all means.”
Claudio didn’t reply. He didn’t want to say anything, but he could see the effects of her medication. Canna still had a lightning wit, quick temper and foul mouth, but she seemed different. Happy. Canna Medici seemed happy, despite all that had gone on in Milan. Canna was coping for the first time.
“What are you staring at, man?”
“Nothing. We’re really getting married today.”
“Yep. Now, I have a list of paperwork we need. Bloody Spanish and their love of paperwork! It’s going to be a shit-fight, I just know it. But, as with anything, cash donations tend to solve problems. I spoke to my buddy last night, and he has already got his friend at the office organised. We have to deal with him, Bartolo Someone-Something. But we need to go in there with everything prepared.”
“What about the ceremony? I assume it is just the bit where we stand in front of the judge and sign the papers.”
“Is this based on past marriage experience? Yes, we’re not having a wedding, just getting married. If you also want to say something loving and meaningful, just make up some shit when we get there.”
Claudio laughed as Canna went to put her dress in the bedroom. She came back a moment later with a serious face.
“What happened?” he asked. “Change your mind already? I will wear a suit, I promise.”
“Skip the tie, go casual. I can see you tidy on stage any night of the year.”
“You’re the boss, Blinky.”
Canna took a deep breath. “Can we just talk about something first?”
“Okay.”
“If we get married, the Italian media will get hold of it. I will be the Countess-Widow-Whore who married a guy weeks after killing her last lover.”
“But none of that is true.”
“No, it’s not, but nevertheless, it will involve you.”
“It’s tabloid smut. It will die away again.”
“Also, once people hear we got married in Madrid, the cops will know I left Italy when I was advised not to leave the country. I might get arrested.”
&n
bsp; Claudio frowned. “Okay, that’s bad.”
“It should be fine. Silvio’s ready, just in case. I’m not under arrest or on bail, so… but still, the chance exists. I’m happy to take the chance.”
Claudio shrugged. “If you’re sure, then I agree with you.”
“One more thing. You’ve obviously realised that the Caraceni’s aren’t compassionate people.”
“Your murderous rapist husband taught me that.”
“At some stage, I should be able to wriggle out of my involvement in the company. But if I piss them off, they will come after me. Look at what happened to Giorgio. He’s not the first. If you’re married to me, special to me, that makes you a target. It makes Veena and Casamiro a target by association. I know I’m talking about the extreme end of the scale, but you need to be aware of this before you marry me.”
“This sounds like a mafia movie.”
“Where do you think directors get their inspiration?”
“Do these things really happen in real life?”
“Bribery, corruption, scandal, murder? Yeah, they do. The average person has nothing to fear because they have nothing to lose. When you have everything, the risk of falling off your pedestal can drive you to do crazy things.”
Claudio shrugged again. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to marry me.”
“Fuck them.”
Canna grinned. “That’s the spirit. I’m not under threat at the moment and I don’t think there is a conspiracy. I suspect the answer to Giorgio’s death is simpler than everyone claims. The killer may get away with it, but it will be dealt with, Caraceni style.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“You’re getting the hang of this lifestyle already. I just had to say this before we get married. We aren’t starting with a clean slate; more crazy stuff is bound to come out.”
“I’m ready for anything.”
“Terrific. Let’s get married.”
~~~
Claudio sat in his pale grey suit and fiddled with his white shirt collar. Canna was taking her sweet time. “Blinky, what are you doing in there?” he called to the bedroom.
Violent Daylight Page 38
