“Canna, that’s a really depressing story.”
“Sorry. I won’t tell you how I have never had a birthday cake before either.”
“That’s awful!”
“Christmas Day baby. It happens.”
“Go and get your brush.”
Canna dashed off and returned a moment later with her brush. She sat down, and Claudio looked at the sheer amount of black hair stuck between the bristles. The tangled mess seemed to be a symbol of Canna.
“I don’t think I’ve ever brushed someone else’s hair before,” he commented as he started to comb through Canna’s curls. “Tell me if I pull your hair. How much pressure am I meant to apply?”
“You know how much pressure to apply on other areas of my body,” Canna muttered as she flicked through her phone.
“Cheeky bitch.”
Canna giggled. “You’re doing fine.”
“I told you to turn off that thing.” Claudio gestured at the iPhone with her brush.
“I have a message from Francesca. She says Gia, Giuseppe’s daughter, is mad at me for selling the Milan apartment. She is offering to take it off my hands.”
“Excellent.”
Canna started typing a reply. “I’ll give it to her for seven million Euros, but I’ll steal the two Picasso’s in the office. They will look delightful in our place in London.”
“Lives of the rich and famous.”
“You bet. Oh, there is another message. I’ve been invited to a party tonight. The Prime Minister is in town for a little soirée.”
“How charming,” Claudio responded in his best fake snob voice. “The Italian government changes so often that I don’t even know who is the Prime Minister.”
“The guy I once kicked in the balls for groping me.”
“Terrific.” Claudio’s widened his eyes as he brushed.
“Should I reply to Francesca and tell her that both me and my husband will be attending tonight?”
Claudio set the brush down on the bed. “That is one hell of a step to take.”
“Francesca can be discreet.”
“Can you trust anyone?”
“Everyone I can trust is in this room. Let’s go out tonight. You have a suit, and I have my wedding dress…”
“I guess we don’t have to tell anyone anything.”
Canna typed her reply and tossed the phone on the bed as Claudio resumed brushing.
“We will have to go outside and pass the vultures. Maybe we should; maybe we can just go about our lives and let people speculate whatever they want.”
“Could be amusing.”
The phone rang on the bed, and Canna swiped it up again. “It’s Silvio. Can’t ignore the man who is making sure I don’t go down for murder.”
Canna walked back over to the window as she took the call. She watched Claudio fiddle with the brush in his hands. “Buon pomeriggio, Silvio. Good to see you working weekends.”
“Buon pomeriggio, Catherine. I have to work, I have excellent news.”
“Do tell.”
“When you went to Helsinki on your motorbike, you got several speeding tickets in Germany and Finland. One was on the same day that Giorgio got killed. The tickets place you thousands of miles from Giorgio when he died.”
“Holy shit!’ Canna cried, and Claudio stood up in concern. “That’s fucking fantastic news!”
“Other than the huge fines you need to pay, yes it is. Now, your alibi of being with Dane Porter on the night of the murder never has to be checked out by the police. You can keep that a secret.”
Canna felt a tear run down her face, and she didn’t bother to hide it from Claudio. “You… you have no idea how great that is.”
“My understanding is that the police did contact Signore Porter in London, but now he will be told he doesn’t need to give a statement.”
“So that’s the end of it for me?”
“Almost, there will be a delay over the next 24 to 48 hours as everything is sorted. But I would advise your newspapers to get a story ready to say you are totally innocent.”
“Since that’s the truth!”
“I tell you, Catherine, it’s appealing to get someone innocent off a crime. That doesn’t happen very often in my line of work.”
“Is there any more word on the death of Yuri?”
“No, that has gone cold. They are not looking at you as the killer, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Excellent work, Silvio.”
“You can celebrate now.”
“I’m off to dinner with the Prime Minister. My new husband and I have our first official event together.” Canna poked her tongue at Claudio, who was nervous about the phone call.
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope. Claudio and I got married two days ago in Madrid.”
“So you decided to go ahead with that? Can’t say I’m surprised. Claudio seems perfectly amiable, though not cut out for this kind of life.”
“People change.”
“Please tell me that you got the financial division to write up a pre-nuptial agreement. Imagine if he tried to rip you off.”
Canna froze. A pre-nup never crossed her mind. Not for a second.
“Catherine, the silence is terrifying.”
“Maybe he could sign something post-nup?”
“For fucks sake, Catherine. I love clients who keep me in business, that doesn’t mean you need to go and constantly fuck up things.”
“Don’t worry, Silvio, everything is under control. Thank you for very much for saving my ass and just send the bill to my office. Let me know when I can leave the country. I would like to go to London with my husband.”
“As you wish, Catherine.”
Canna ended the call and squealed like a fifteen-year-old girl. Claudio watched her jump up and down and the spot. “You won’t fucking believe it! I got a speeding ticket on my motorbike and now the cops know I wasn’t in Milan when Giorgio died!”
“You mean when you were bringing the motorbike to London?”
“Um, yes.”
“That’s terrific!” Claudio’s smile beamed as he pulled her into his arms. “Is it all over?”
“Almost. In a few days, I will be officially cleared. But yes, as of right now, I’m free!”
Claudio felt his heart pound, a deep pain his chest. His mouth felt dry as Canna hugged him tight. He didn’t realise how much the whole accusation hurt until it dissipated. He took a deep breath. “I’m speechless.”
“Makes a nice change.”
Claudio let Canna go just enough to look at her. “I don’t know if I want to celebrate, or lie down and enjoy the relief.”
“Both?”
“You never did tell me what alibi you gave the police, or why didn’t they believe it.”
“I never gave them an alibi. They wanted me to start telling Caraceni secrets, in return for my freedom. They said if I took Caraceni down, I would be given immunity. I decided to protect the family instead. The only way out of the Caraceni family is in a body bag.”
“Giorgio is still dead.”
“The funeral is going to be tough. I don’t know if Tatiana will want me at her husband’s funeral. I didn’t kill him, but affair rumours stick. I never touched him.”
“Would you have slept with Giorgio, if you weren’t with me?”
“Maybe. We’ll never know. He already had a mistress, anyway. I do know that I would never let him brush my hair.”
“That is one of the nicest things you’ve ever said.”
Canna sighed. “It’s a sad state of affairs when the first person you announce your marriage to is your lawyer.”
“Well, we aren’t normal people anymore.”
“Silvio asked if you signed a pre-nuptial agreement. It never crossed my mind. My pre-nup with Giuseppe had 47 different clauses and took a week to go through with the lawyers. How could I have been so stupid to forget a pre-nup?”
“I forgot, too. Veena and I had one, tha
t’s how I ended up with little after my divorce.”
“We need to write up a contract for our marriage. Sorry, but we do. My mistakes could upset the companies I run.”
“Most of your private wealth is in my bank account, and in Virtuosi’s bank account.”
“That’s true, I don’t have a lot cash at the moment thanks to those transfers.”
“I’m a member of the Caraceni web of lies and money now. I guess I have to throw my morals out the window and put my hand out for cash,” Claudio joked.
“Please don’t sell your soul. One of us needs to have possession of one. Come on, let’s go out and enjoy dinner with 500 of Milan’s finest.”
~~~
The vultures and their cameras were ready the moment that Claudio and Canna stepped through the front doors of the guarded hotel. Giancarlo had suggested he take the car around the back, but Canna resisted. Claudio looked at Canna by his side as they stepped onto the footpath. It may have been dark, but the place lit up with camera flashes as they all stepped forward for a photograph of the beautiful Countess. She wore her wedding dress, the lace hugging every curve. She had a sparkle in her eyes as she smiled for the photos, along with her greedy smug grin. The flashes reflected off Canna’s diamond nose stud just a fraction.
The questions that fired toward the pair were in Italian, and Claudio couldn’t understand the rapid speech. He kept his hand on Canna’s back, and he felt her lean into him. She didn’t want him to move an inch away. Her expression hid a fear. As Giancarlo cleared a path with not-so subtle pushes at the paparazzi, Canna leaned over and spoke into Claudio’s ear. “They want to know why you’re here with me.”
“What do you want to tell them?” he whispered back.
“Tell me what to do.”
“I want to you tell the whole world the truth.”
Canna turned and looked at Giancarlo, who held the door to the Mercedes open for her. She turned back to the cameras. “Mio marito e io stiamo andando a visitare il premier.”
“Marito?” one asked. Claudio knew that word – husband. Canna had called him husband.
“Si, Claudio Ramos Ibáñez è mio marito. Naturalmente, egli è qui per accompagnare e sostenere me attraverso questo tempo terribile con la morte di Giorgio Savelli.”
Claudio tried to understand the language. She said something about how it was natural for her husband to support her while mourning the death of Giorgio.
“Da quanto tempo siete sposati?” another asked.
“What did he say?’” Claudio asked Canna.
“He wants to know how long we’ve been married.”
“Tell them we’re newlyweds. That’s all they need to know.”
“Siamo novelli sposi,” Canna said to the crowd who continued to hang their mouths open in amazement.
The pair got into the car, and Giancarlo pulled the vehicle away from the curb as Canna laughed. “That was fun,” she commented, without bothering to look out the back window.
“How long before Milan knows all about this?” Claudio mused.
“I give it five minutes. Those pricks will be online in no time.”
“I can’t believe this!” Giancarlo cried.
“What?” Canna slid forward in her seat to talk to her bodyguard.
“You got married, and you didn’t tell me? How could you? Are you serious? How did this happen?”
“How did it happen? The usual way – I fell in love, slipped wads of money to the registry office in Madrid and BOOM! Married.”
Claudio watched the expression of the giant Italian in the rear-view mirror. He had seen Giancarlo angry before, but now he seemed much worse. Not just angry, but heartbroken and vengeful.
“Sorry, we haven’t told anyone yet. Until now.” Canna patted her bodyguard’s shoulder and sat back in her seat.
“And now you’re just going to roll up at il premier’s dinner party and show off your new husband. You’re only invited thanks to the identity of your last husband.”
“Wow, Giancarlo, that was mean,” she replied.
“And out of line,” Claudio quipped.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Giancarlo yelled back at him.
“Giancarlo, I think you are losing sight of the facts. I am the boss!” Canna said, her voice loud and clear.
“Of course you needed to marry someone famous and important,” Giancarlo shot back. “I’m not surprised. You have zero impulse control. After all I have done for you…”
“Meaning?” Canna pushed.
“I put up with so much, and I help out, keep your secrets, let you be godmother to my daughters, and this is how you repay me? It’s bad enough that you left the country without even telling me. It’s like your little motorbike tour of Europe again.”
“My motorbike tour around Europe is no one business. Just like my flight to Madrid was no one’s business, except mine and Claudio’s. You need to remember that you’re not my keeper. Has our chat on the flight back from London a few weeks ago not sunk in yet?”
Giancarlo didn’t reply, and Claudio felt relieved. The man kept making eye contact with him in the mirror, so he decided to focus his attention on Canna instead.
The fuming Italian didn’t say a word when he pulled up outside a luxury building in the heart of Milan. Giancarlo opened the door, and Canna and Claudio got out of the car, to a red carpet arrival with staff eager to see the guests inside the private party. The handful of journalists must have received a phone call because they were ready to see Contessa di Caraceni and her new husband. Canna gave them a cheeky wave as they headed inside the restored palace, not giving them a single word.
“Wow, people love you,” Claudio said as they headed into the high-ceiling entranceway, ushered by well-dressed staff.
“Before the nation of Italy emerged in the mid-1800’s, the kingdom of Sardinia was very powerful. The Caraceni family were not only rich, but also great in power and influence. That’s where my title comes from; Giuseppe’s grandfather was the ruling Count in Sardinia and their occupied mainland territories. Nowadays, Italy is a Republic and the titles are arbitrary, but money talks.”
“What will the Prime Minister and his blue-blood friends think of me?”
“You are rich and famous. Not rich like these people, but you are my husband and we can lie and say you come from some kind of Spanish nobility.”
“Great,” Claudio scoffed as they stopped in the doorway through to the ballroom and all the guests.
“Don’t be like that! Not everyone in here is a member of the super-rich. There are regular celebrities, too.”
“Regular celebrities,” he chuckled.
“Yes, okay, it’s all about keeping up appearances, but these people aren’t all old money. Some are interesting people who have worked hard and have exciting stories to tell. People run charities and look after prominent causes.”
“Some race superyachts.”
“That’s right! My last husband might have been an asshole behind closed doors, but he was intelligent, charming and captivating.”
“Question is, how to we know who is beating their trophy wives behind closed doors and who isn’t?”
“You don’t know. Every person in every socio-economic sector has that problem.”
“We have a bigger problem anyway.”
“Don’t worry, everyone here speaks English, so you can chat with them.”
“No, bigger than that. Giancarlo Antelli.”
“Yes, his attitude is becoming a problem.”
“Why is he so mad at me for marrying you?” Claudio had to whisper in Canna’s ear as people started to notice that the recently-arrested Countess had arrived.
“I don’t know.”
“He’s in love with you. Why else would he be so angry? Why else would he punch me in the face in London?”
“No, you have it wrong. Giancarlo is solid as a rock with his wife and daughters. I’ve never got that vibe from him.”
“My goddess,”
Claudio said as he linked his arm through hers, “while you’re exceptionally bright, you do sometimes miss things right in front of you.”
“Once you say these things about someone, they can’t be taken back.”
“No, they can’t. He complains about all he’s done for you? That sounds like a threat.”
Canna watched Claudio for a moment before the conversation had to wait for later. It was time to schmooze and repair Contessa Catherine Savelli di Caraceni’s perfect image among the elite, who seemed eager to see her. The last time Claudio had a hunch, he had been right – his troublesome assistant indeed was a morphine addict. Now, he had a feeling he had just discovered the murderer of Giorgio Savelli.
CHAPTER 41
MILAN
Canna hadn’t been to a party as the Countess in a while. She had almost forgotten how fun it could be, and how boring certain people in the social circle were. After a long sober night, they stumbled back to the suite in the Principe di Savoia and Claudio fell asleep. But not so lucky for Canna – instead she sat in the next room, her feet dipped into the hot water of the Turkish bath. The name was a bit of a misnomer – it was a pool, not a bathtub. Canna sat in the dark, only the water illuminated as she splashed her feet.
Canna had stayed here before, with Dane when Virtuosi was on tour. They had swum naked together and had sex on one of the pool loungers. Canna had to call Dane. She had to find a way of keeping him quiet about the police and their phone call to him about her alibi for the night of Giorgio’s murder. He had shut up about the incident in Helsinki, for Rebecca and Claudio’s benefit, and now he wouldn’t have to make an official statement at all. Claudio couldn’t hear about that night after the wedding with Dane; he wouldn’t understand.
Canna slipped back into bed next to her sleeping husband. She was close to getting everything back on track. Just Dane needed to be silenced now.
Violent daylight had pierced the dark when Canna woke again. She rolled over in bed to see Claudio sitting at the desk by the window. He smiled when she looked over at him. “Good afternoon, wifey.”
Violent Daylight Page 40
