Righello

“You coming?” Raffaele asked in pure frustration. He was sick to death of asking that question.

“No,” came the short reply before his brother made a hasty exit to avoid the questions.

Raffaele passed a hand over his face, watching the door shut before grabbing his coat. His brother had been irritating him, his behaviour pathetic and childish. But he knew there was nothing he could do but watch his brother burn himself out. That was the only way he would then stop and deal with his pain, because he sure wasn’t dealing with it at that moment.

Raffaele made the journey that had become familiar. Every day he entered the same building. “Any change?” he asked when he passed the reception desk, a small flutter of hope awakening in his heart.

“No, sir, sorry,” came the same reply as yesterday, and the day before that. It had been the same reply every day. He pursed his lips but made his way down the wood-panelled corridor.

Anyone would think he was in a high-end hotel, it looked like it. But it didn’t smell like it, the smell of latex and sterilisation that the private hospital tried to hide with floral scents gave his location away.

His hand went through his waxed hair as he reached the room, the woman looking as if she was sleeping peacefully. A small twitch brought his lips into the tiniest smile. “Hey, little one, how we doing today?” he asked as if he’d get a response.

He sat down, leaning back in the chair to prop his feet up on the bed next to her. “I tried to get him to come, I know you’d like to see him. I’ll keep trying for you.” He settled back, shifting to get comfortable. “He does care, he misses you. He’s grieving, so he’s doing what he does best; being a complete cuntface.” Raffaele sighed. “He’s working even more, you know? I’m not one hundred percent sure he’s sleeping. Works about eighteen hours a day, then you know what he’s like with working out. He’ll be better when you wake up.” He nudged her leg gently with his foot as if that would rouse her.

“Mr Sovrano, I’ve told you before, this is not your living room, feet down.” A greying nurse waltzed in, her motherly air evident without her confident scold.

He sighed and dropped his feet. “She won’t mind.” Raffaele nodded to Ali.

“Maybe, but I do!” she snapped, “Want anything, dear?” her tone softened.

“Nah it’s OK, thanks, Jackie.” Nurse Jackie smiled warmly and started checking charts and the monitor. “Hate to think she’ll wake up alone,” he muttered to her.

“She won’t be, how’s her fiancé getting on?”

“Being a dick, hasn’t come to visit her once, working himself to a heart attack,” he muttered gloomily.

“These things affect everyone differently. He’ll come round.”

“It’s been weeks,” Raffaele palmed his eyes, seeing stars. “I think he’s beyond coming round now,” he mumbled.

“He’s grieving, Mr Sovrano, sometimes it takes longer than a few weeks, sometimes it can take months. He’ll work it out, if he needs help we’ve offered bereavement counselling,” she reminded him kindly.

“He won’t take it, Jackie, he’s too proud. She needs to wake up.” Jackie made a noise of agreement.

Raffaele spoke to Ali’s unconscious form for an hour. He wished she’d just wake, have that cheeky smile flash at him while she called him some ridiculous name.

“Morning,” came a tight voice from the doorway.

Raffaele glanced up, recognising a man he didn’t much want to see at that moment. He took a breath, psyching himself up to deal with the visitor. “Hello Matteo, how are you?” he replied just as tightly.

“Fine, how’s she?” His jaw was tight as he sat in the other chair.

“The same.” Raffaele straightened as a silence fell on the room, just the beeping of machines telling them their common ally was alive. Matteo sadly looking to his niece he’d known about for a matter of months, a flash of warmth crossed his face. Love. Familial love.

Raffaele sighed, “Any news on your end?” he asked, switching to Italian.

“We’re in discussions, we want Ali to have access to us. Father has agreed an alliance is possible. The lack of trust is what’s holding us back.”

“I can understand that, but a union is the best for both families, your father agreed once. I don’t see what the problem would be,” Raffaele stated confidently, they’d been in discussions for almost two weeks, Raffaele was confident the alliance would go through. He had to be confident… no one else was.

“That alliance was through marriage,” Matteo reminded him.

“As will this one.” Raffaele’s dark eyes connected with Matteo’s which narrowed suspiciously.

“You?”

“No, my elder brother.”

Matteo leant back in his armchair. “I don’t think Valentino is good for her, do you?”

Raffaele swallowed, licking his lips. “Not Val,” he paused. Was this really a good idea? “I’m giving you this information as a security for our alliance, yes?”

“What information?” Matteo asked sceptically. Of course, Raffaele understood his hesitancy, he wouldn’t wish for Ali to enter a marriage with Valentino either, to Matteo, there was no one else.

Raffaele mulled over the risk of the information he was about to divulge, it was a risk, but it was a risk he had calculated a hundred times since he told Matteo that Ali was in the hospital. “I have three brothers; Gabriele-”

“He’s dead,” Matteo interrupted, Raffaele glared at him for interrupting.

“I’m well aware of that,” he snapped. “No, I don’t mean him, my other siblings are Valentino, and Lorenzo.”

“Lorenzo?” Matteo repeated the name, confused. Raffaele nodded curtly.

“Lorenzo was to marry Ali; they’re engaged. He isn’t aware I’m speaking to you, he isn’t aware I’m divulging his identity. This alliance will happen, Matteo.” Raffaele’s tone laced with warning, there wasn’t an option in his mind, the families had been divided for too long, to expand and grow they had to work together.

“Who is this man then?”

Raffaele stared him dead in the eyes. “The true boss of London.”