Violent Daylight

by Caroline Angus Baker

  Canna sat in her seat and watched Giorgio across the narrow plane aisle. He barely sat still in his seat. Canna knew that feeling; it looked as if he had got high. “Dude, are you okay?”

  “Huh?” Giorgio’s head snapped in her direction. “Yes, why?”

  “You don’t seem okay.”

  “This plane needs a shower.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I just fucked two strangers and now I have to go back to the office.”

  “Your office has a shower. Wait until then. Although, I must say, you smell a bit odd. Raspberry lubricant, was it?”

  “I can’t wash it off.”

  Canna laughed. “You’re an idiot.”

  “It was your idea.”

  “You didn’t have to go along with it. I was messing with your head, but it was you that let two complete strangers take you away.”

  “Come on, have you ever had sex with a stranger?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t pay for it!” Well, not with money. “Giorgio, did you take anything?”

  “Like what? Viagra? Hell no!”

  “Not Viagra, I mean anything at all.” Canna slid forward in her seat and turned to look at her colleague. He had something in his system. “I’m not judging, I’m simply asking.”

  Giorgio shrugged. “A little heroin.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Canna swore as she stood up and rubbed her face, careful not to bump her nose stud. “They have drugs on site for clients? Forget prostitution, that’s a problem.”

  “Everyone needs a little pick-me-up now and then.”

  “How often do you use?”

  “Never! That was for fun. It felt marvellous, Catherine, you should have joined us.”

  “That shit will kill you.”

  “Great way to die, high and sandwiched between two whores.”

  Canna shut her eyes for a moment. Just being next to someone high made her want to do drugs. Every day seemed to push her closer to hurting herself. That caused pain in itself. It would be easier to give in and use drugs than to fight the yearning for sin.

  “I’m so happy right now,” Giorgio remarked. “Grazie, Catherine.”

  “What if it comes out that our brothel gives drugs to its clients? That’s illegal and shit we don’t need to be caught up in.”

  “We’re the Caraceni family. We are untouchable. Relax.”

  “I can’t, I’m not the one who’s high!”

  “Maybe you should be.”

  “It’s all fun and games until you spend three months in rehab!”

  Giorgio cleared his throat. “You?”

  “Me.”

  “Don’t worry. After a long summer on the society circuit, everyone is addicted to something. No one would hold it against you.”

  “Trust me, a lot of people do.”

  “Simple people do. I won’t.”

  Canna took a deep breath. Giorgio didn’t seem someone to keep a secret for another. “Grazie, I guess.”

  Giorgio jumped up from his seat. “What do you use?”

  “It was morphine after the car accident in Costa Smeralda.”

  “That accident was nasty, and they never found the driver.”

  Canna said nothing. Giuseppe was the driver but no one would believe that.

  “Did you get out of the hospital and didn’t stop the pill-popping?”

  “I like being high too much. I eventually went to methadone, until Giuseppe detoxed me at a place up in Aosta.”

  “Beneserre? I went there for alcohol issues a few years ago.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “But you drink now.”

  “How am I supposed to be who I am without alcohol? No party or meeting is complete without alcohol. I have to drink.”

  “I’m not supposed to take painkillers or alcohol, but every meeting has wine, every regatta has rum, every party has champagne and cigars!”

  “There is nothing wrong with getting a bit high,” Giorgio said.

  “I had pills every meal of the day. Correction, I used to.”

  “And what made you stop?”

  “A Spanish baritone.”

  “That guy in the office the other day? Ramos?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is so special about him?”

  Canna shrugged. “I don’t know. He has enough power to make me think about financing a world tour for him and his fellow singers.”

  “Great place to hide money and then turn a profit. Get the Caraceni music foundation pay for it.”

  “I would need the approval of your father Guillermo for that.”

  “How hard can that be? I’ll ask him. You just have to be gratifying to me.”

  “How gratifying?”

  Giorgio smirked. “As long as I’m still high, I’m up for some more fun.”

  Canna shook her head. “I’m not going to have sex with you, Giorgio. Not now and not ever. If Guillermo doesn’t want to fund my little music project, then I will open accounts in Austria to pay for it.”

  “Austria?”

  Canna frowned. “You don’t know about Austria?”

  Giorgio’s handsome face switched from happy to angry in an instant. “What’s in Austria?”

  “Nothing.”

  “PORCHERIA!” he screamed in a swift mood swing. Canna could well sympathise with that sensation. “BULLSHIT! Tell me!”

  “Are you concerned about the bribe to the Economic Minster of Naples? That is nothing compared to the money that Giuseppe laundered through secret accounts in Austria.”

  “How much money is there?”

  “I’m not sure, your father has control of it all now, not me. Each year, hundreds of millions of Euros are sent to Austria, as income undisclosed to the Italian tax department. It’s vaguely legal. If the money got discovered, there could be a lengthy court battle for Caraceni Industries. We could have to pay for years of tax evasion.”

  “What billionaire CEO isn’t hiding money at the moment? Maybe we should move it to Switzerland.”

  “We could be caught anywhere. It’s not about tax evasion. It’s also a problem because of where the money originated. The Caraceni financial figures don’t add up; you know that. Giuseppe’s wealth went far beyond what the companies earn.”

  “I know all this. I’m the co-chairman and I want the money. I will get you kicked out of this company, Catherine.”

  “Giuseppe thought you would try that, you and your father together. To protect me from you, Giuseppe made his will water-tight.”

  “You don’t deserve anything. You were his whore.”

  “I was his wife,” Canna spat back. They stood right in front of one another, and the large man didn’t intimidate her. “You of all people know the difference between wives and whores since you have both.”

  Giorgio shoved Canna hard against the chest, and she fell backwards onto the gold carpet. Before she could get up, Giorgio crawled over her, his whole weight hard against her.

  “Get off me!”

  “Not until you listen to me,” Giorgio hissed through gritted teeth. He had his hands around her wrists as he held her arms above her head. Her body fought under his, but he had the advantage of size. “I don’t like difficult women.”

  “You like broken and weak women. You couldn’t handle a strong woman with a brain.”

  “Do you want me to show you what I can do, you little bitch?” His words came out the same way a snake spat its venom. With his strength, he was able to hold both of her arms in one hand while the other went in search of the hem of her skirt.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me!” she swore. Too late, his hand had already made its way up the inside of her thigh. “BASTARDO!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Giorgio released her arms and clamped his hand over her mouth. She punched him in the face, but the combination of drugs and his strength meant he barely noticed. “Don’t you say another word,” he sneered.

  The door throug
h to the cockpit opened, and the hostess stood there with a shocked face. “Signora Medici?” she asked. “Is there a problem?”

  Giorgio let Canna’s mouth go. Canna took a few deep breaths and watched Giorgio, who leaned away. “I’m fine,” she said as she caught her breath. “It’s nothing.”

  The hostess knew better. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Leave us,” Giorgio said as he stood up and straightened his suit. “You work for us. You’re not here to listen to our business conversations.”

  The woman nodded and closed the door. Canna could see the woman’s eyes. She seemed worried; she wasn’t alone.

  “I can’t talk to you about anything while you’re emotional,” Canna said as she scrambled to her feet.

  “I’m emotional?”

  “You’re violent and irrational. Don’t make me hurt you, Giorgio.”

  “I just had you on your back. A few more inches and I would have been known how wet you are between your thighs…”

  “Don’t start, I’m not your whore.”

  “Yes you are. Do you think you’re any better than those two girls you bought for me this morning? At least they are upfront about how low they’re prepared to go.”

  Canna turned and swiped a bottle of wine from the table. Giorgio’s reflexes seemed to have slowed because when she whacked him over the head, he didn’t even put up a fight. His towering frame slumped to the floor in a heap and didn’t move.

  “Oops,” Canna said, and put the bottle down again. She knelt down over him and could see him breathing. Good sign. There didn’t appear to be any blood. “Still alive, how helpful,” she muttered. She turned and sat down in her chair.

  The door to the cockpit opened again. “Signora Medici?” the woman asked. She glanced down at Giorgio’s body on the carpet.

  “Signore Savelli needed a nap,” Canna explained.

  “A wise decision,” the woman smiled and shut the door.

  Canna chuckled to herself, but a worry entered her mind. Did he act that way because of the uncommon combination of heroin and testosterone, or would he have been violent towards her anyway? Canna had to see Giorgio at work every day. Claudio couldn’t hear about this.

  Canna’s phone rang, and she jumped. Damn in-flight communication system. At least it could distract her from the body on the floor. “Good afternoon, Yuri.”

  “Hello, Countess. How are you?”

  “It’s been a rough day. I had to bash someone over the head.”

  Yuri laughed. “You’re hilarious.”

  Yes. We can pretend I’m lying. “What can I do for you?”

  “I have a client for Savelli Marine. He wants to build the world’s largest single masted yacht. He wants a yacht that is 250 feet long.”

  “Shit,” Canna exhaled. “I’m not sure we could build that.”

  “Wouldn’t it be the greatest way to promote Savelli Marine after the poor year that the business has suffered? Your name is in the news for giving prostitutes to government ministers. You need some good publicity.”

  “That will die down, don’t worry. I have been in Naples today. I’m on my way back to Milan. Everything is legal.” Except for the heroin. “Who is this guy? Does he want a yacht 250 feet long because the current largest yacht is 247 feet long?”

  “He is Adam Drugal and is heir to one of the largest electricity companies in Russia. He wants to spend a €200 million on a yacht.”

  “That makes your superyacht look like a baby.”

  “I shall have to upgrade. I met Adam at a business leaders meeting a few years ago. Countess, it’s a monumental deal. I know you prefer building racing yachts, but with cruising superyachts like this waiting to be built, can we afford to say no? Imagine the commission you will receive. Ten percent commission of €200 million is massive.”

  “You will get the commission, not me.”

  “Adam wants to deal with Contessa di Caraceni, not me. He wants to meet us to discuss the project. Come on, think of all the glorious money.”

  “I can handle it, I suppose. We could meet.”

  “Can you come to us? Tomorrow, or the day after perhaps?”

  “Are you at home in Moscow?”

  “Yes, but Adam lives in Paris, so we should meet there. How about we meet tomorrow and discuss what we need to do, and then the following day we meet with Adam.”

  “In Paris to discuss a superyacht… sounds like the lives of the rich and famous.”

  “That’s who we are, Countess. Are you in or out?”

  “In.” Canna glanced at Giorgio on the floor. “But I will have to get straight back to Milan. I have a directors meeting.”

  “I must admit, I have no idea what we need to pitch to Adam.”

  “I can handle that. I will be back in Milan today to prepare.”

  “So, you will join me in Paris tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  “A date, just you and I, in the world’s most romantic city.”

  “You should know that my last trip to Paris was a disaster, and I now consider the city cursed.”

  “We can erase this, Countess. You and me, together.”

  “With Adam Drugal and his bags of money.”

  “Those, too. Also, that little group, Virtuosi… do they do private parties?”

  “They do, for the right fee.”

  “Which is how much?”

  “One million Euros,” Canna bluffed. Virtuosi had never played a private party.

  “Would they perform in Moscow? It’s my birthday in a few weeks. Who do I call about that?”

  “Leave that with me. I will call and arrange it with their manager, Lea.” Who hates me. “Anything else?”

  “I suppose not. Let me know how you get on with yacht ideas. We can stay at an elegant hotel and get to know each other better. I’ll arrange everything.”

  “I’ll call you in the morning to make plans.” I won’t tell you where I’m staying. “Goodbye, Yuri.”

  Canna sighed and watched Giorgio sleep off his heroin rage on the carpet. She picked up the phone again and dialled.

  “Hey, Giancarlo.”

  “I’m already at the airport to collect you.”

  “Thank you.” She reached out with her foot and poked Giorgio in the nose with her shoe. “Can you arrange a different car for Giorgio? He is going to have a headache.”

  “Going to?”

  “Yes, going to have a headache when we arrive. He needs to go straight home to his wife while smelling like raspberry lubricant and with a bump on his head.”

  “Do I want to know what happened?”

  “I’ll tell you everything when we land. Also, I need to go to Paris tomorrow. I need you to come. I don’t want to be alone with Yuri.”

  “Of course, Canna.”

  “If I get a new yacht build deal, you and I could be spending a lot more time out at Bergamo, instead of downtown Milan.”

  “I’m good with that. See you soon.”

  Canna sat back and nudged Giorgio with her high heel again. Unconscious. What a day. One business partner got all weird and sexually violent. Another suggested a date in the city of love. Bloody hell.

  CHAPTER 13

  LONDON

  Emergency meeting at Taylor Studios. The notion sent a shiver up Claudio’s spine. None of Virtuosi had been into work for a few days, and it had been great because the group didn’t have a fun atmosphere. Claudio hoped he could avoid Veena. She had a few days left of work before she went on full-time maternity leave. There couldn’t be any worse pain than having a child with someone who hated you.

  Claudio heard his name as he went in the double doors of the building. He stopped and turned to see Henri headed in his direction. “Hey, Frenchie. Where’s Lea?”

  “She started early and came in alone. I just wanted to say sorry again, about the dinner with you and Canna last week.”

  “Stop apologising so much, you’re becoming British like your wife,” Claudio joked. “T
he English seem to apologise for everything.”

  “As opposed to Spaniards, who apologise for nothing,” Henri replied as he waved hello to Sasha at the reception desk.

  “We Spaniards don’t make mistakes.” Claudio pressed the button for the elevator and the men stood and waited.

  “The thing is,” Henri continued, “there was good reason for the way Lea reacted.”

  “You and Lea want a baby and she is mad at me for knocking up Veena?”

  “Well, there is that. Lea’s mad, and she’s jealous.”

  “Neither you or Lea would want to trade places with Veena and I.” The elevator doors opened, and the pair stepped inside.

  “We have been trying for a few months, and not even that hard,” Henri said as he pressed the button for the ninth floor. “Lea is anxious. Her biological clock started ticking… and ticking loud.”

  “Like Veena. Her clock made more noise than Big Ben.”

  Henri snorted with laughter. “Then you add Canna into the mix. Canna is still young, and you and her… you look so happy! Happiness radiates from you when you’re with Canna! Lea and I had that love not long ago, and now it’s gone. Lea is jealous of that, too.”

  “You two need to stop worrying about others so you can be happy and get pregnant. Stress won’t help, trust me. Veena and I went through years of stress, and she couldn’t get pregnant. To make matters worse, the night that I got Veena pregnant, I was thinking about Canna.”

  “That’s too much information.” Henri’s screwed his nose up as they stepped out of the elevator.

  “But it shows how, for the first time in years, I wasn’t stressed during sex. Veena got pregnant while I was dreaming of Canna.”

  “Hmm… you have a point. I want Lea to relax. Canna stopped her from doing that.”

  “How?’

  “By offering a world tour! Lea couldn’t cope with a tour, and she knows it. Veena did all the heavy lifting to make this project successful, and now that she is out of the Virtuosi project, Lea has to do all the work.”

  “But the idea of bringing bite-sized pieces of opera to the masses was an idea made up by you and Lea together. I’m sure you had dreams of Virtuosi going global!”