Chapter 4 BURNT ROSES

Riccardo

I was going out of my mind that I couldn't find Cello Clare, the one I had a terrible fixation on. But he was after her. So, I shall wait patiently.

In the absence of anything better to do, I sat on the armchair in front of the fireplace and stared at the artificial fire. Cello Clare obsessed me.

Aida had already left and phoned me. She had arrived safely.

All I could do was to enjoy a glass of whiskey on ice and plan my next move. And I didn't mean the deal of the century. That business was my cousin's. I stood up and approached the huge painting above the fireplace.

My parents smiled down at me, but I knew for sure that they couldn't be proud of me. Until this age, I couldn't do anything meaningful with my life and their death made me more confused.

My cousin was no better off. But we had the business and the money and that made us respected and feared all over Sicily. Then I heard a shy knock on the office door.

"Come on in, Pietro!" I said demandingly, and the door opened even more hesitantly. Pietro had been the gardener here at the manor for over twenty years. Only those many years had saved him from death.

"I brought... the roses... sir..." he said fearfully, and it only took one glare to understand that he had to leave them on the table and get the hell out.

I watched them for a long time. Red as blood and perfumed like the scent of a lusty woman.

That was when I took out the lighter and lit one of them, watching it burn to ashes, dying before my eyes.

I was so damn pleased to see its petals burn and fall off the bulb. Then I lit another one, and the feeling was even more exhilarating. Like I had the power of life and death.

The third one, however, I did not allow to burn entirely but only the edge of the petals. Half red and half black. Roses on fire.

Suddenly, I let out a hysterical laugh until my cousin walked into the office, perhaps brought on by the smell or even my outbursts.

"What the hell are you doing, Rick?"

"Killing them!" I replied, keeping my fanatical grin on my face.

"Killing roses..." he repeated as he approached. "You okay, bro?"

"Never better. Take a closer look at this rose. What do you see?" I asked him, waving the half-dead burnt flower in his face.

"Just a burnt flower and an odd cousin. Are you sure you are, ok? You don't seem so" He was being overly concerned. I walked around the table and ended up standing right in front of him.

"Take a second look!" I insisted in an even more persuasive tone. "Okay, I'll help you a little. This burnt flower, as you call it, is my next victim," I explained as I lasciviously stroked the burnt velvet petals.

"Oh, I see. And who might that be?"

"Cello Clare!" I said as I relaxed, squeezing the fragile flower in my fist. When I opened my hand, the burnt part had fallen off and the still red part remained beautifully carved.

"Okay, you'll have to explain it better than that. Another one of your...conquests?" Fabrizio asked, emphasizing the last word, knowing the problem I was facing.

"That's the problem, that this time something happened inside me and not only was I like a volcano ready to erupt, but I lost her too." I said, only in my voice there was no longer regret but dismay. That woman had to be mine at all costs.

"Oh well, I know when you have a problem, you fix it, right?" I narrowed my eyes, staring at him.

"Cello Clare will have no escape. I already know where she lives, what she eats for every meal, what time she sleeps, what toothpaste she uses." I spoke with a foolish pride, feeling the fire moving inside me.

"It's really intriguing to hear you talk like that, bro, just tell exactly what you did? Knowing you, I'm sure you didn't use the most orthodox methods."

"Exactly! Not in so far away England, London to be exact, is my prey. My men have already been on her trail and found out all there is to know. There was only one thing left for me to do, bring Clare to me!" I roared with satisfaction that at last, after so many days, Clare would finally fall into my hands.

"Hey, and what makes you think that from the moment you have her, probably for the first and last time, you won't kick her out like you have with all the others so far?" Fabrizio asked me and it stirred a storm in my soul. If indeed I had one.

"I think that time will come soon enough, so I'll see in due course. That probably may depend on how obedient she is."

"You're hopeless! And to think I'm seen as the black sheep of the family," Fabrizio continued, bringing with him glimpses of his dark past. This made me even more furious.

"I think it's in your best interest not to venture into that field, cousin. It's mined, and you took care to lay there your own mines."

And with that line, I shut him up. I knew very well that he didn't have a past he was proud of and I had played a big part in covering up that past. Many people suffered at the time, but I was only interested in Fabrizio's welfare and not being held responsible. That was one reason he had been gone for so long.

"Ok, ok, no need to pick on me"

It was clear that my cosuin didn't like and maybe didn't care for the crap he had done in the past. The truth was, neither did I. So far, no one came forward to hold us accountable.

"You got lucky, you bastard," I shouted over my shoulder as I poured myself another glass of whiskey. "So, until I get Cello Clare here, tell me how we're doing on the other deal? Clarissa what?"

"Clarissa Ward. Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of her, but you can look her up on the internet to see what she looks like."

I didn't wait for another invitation and opened my laptop. The moment I associated her name with a face, I was simply speechless. She looked so familiar. Those eyes. No, it wasn't possible. This woman is a high-class journalist, and that was an art enchantment.

"Are you sure is her?" I asked Fabrizio, pointing insistently at this woman's face.

"I am positive. Why? Is there something wrong?"

Everything was wrong. The voice inside my head screamed at me. Instead, I gathered my nerves and anxieties that I still found to be unexplainable and put on my most successful poker face.

"It's okay. What do you know about her? Besides what you've already told me, I mean. And about that meeting with that pianist, I assume there will be plenty of security there. We'll need a well thought out plan," I concluded, falling into thought and also getting annoyed when I had no control over certain areas or countries.

"Let's take them one at a time," Fabrizio began with a frown on his face. "Clarissa Ward is 25 years old and since the age of 18, when she could support herself, she got a job at Devilish INK. She has risen quickly and grown just as fast in the eyes of her colleagues and boss. In her 8 years in the editorial office, she never made a single mistake. She is very calculated and decides only after weighing them carefully. About her family, I could not find out anything. It's as if she has no mother, no father, and no relatives."

"Oh well, maybe it is better that she is alone," I voiced my thoughts, rubbing my chin. "So, when is she leaving for Paris?"

"In three days. Enough time to get ready and get us there." Only Fabrizio didn't seem to understand the plans.

"You got it all wrong, my dear restless cousin. It's you who leaves for Paris and only you. But I guess you already knew that, right?" I added more gas to the fire.

It amused me terribly to see my cousin's shocked face. He'd forgotten to even shut his mouth.

"I thought you were making a joke at first," he finally said, dropping his hands to his sides in surrender.

"I don't make jokes about that. If you have anything else to add, now is the time. If you don't, you can step out. I've got other plans to make," I ordered, taking the last sip of my drink and putting my hands in my pants pockets.

"There's more, really..."

"More?" I curiously asked Fabrizio.

"Clarissa Ward is hiding a big secret, but it's so closely guarded that she wouldn't tell you even under torture."