Giorgio (Members From Money Season 2, #136)

Chapter 3

In retrospect he realized that he should not have taken the vehicle out. That instead of going for a drive to clear his head, he should have gone up to his very comfortable suite of rooms and sat in front of the fire.

Anything except driving slightly tipsy. He was angry and unsettled and had had the same recurring argument with his father. His picture had been in the papers again - a wild party on a friend’s yacht with drinking and carousing and as usual, he had been the one to be highlighted.

The innovative photographer had caught him with his body soaked from the water of the pool, his arms around a blonde and a brunette, women whose names he had not remembered.

The caption had not been very flattering. ‘International playboy at it again. Heir to the Russo kingdom partying like there is no tomorrow. One wonders if that’s all he intends to do.’

His father had been furious, fit to be tied. He had been reminded that the company was in delicate negotiations with a fleet of ships and that negative publicity was not needed.

As if he had courted the press. As if he needed added publicity. He was sick of it. Sick of never being able to go anywhere without having a camera trained on him. What the bloody hell was he supposed to do? Lock himself inside his room?

When he had said as much to his father, his comeback had been:

“You can always straighten your life out and join me at the company which will one day be yours!” He shouted.

So, after a very uncomfortable supper, he had retired to the main drawing room and imbibed. It was not enough for him to be falling down drunk. He could hold his liquor. But he supposed it had been enough to shoot his perception to hell. And to be honest, he had been driving too fast as usual.

He couldn’t even blame the person riding a bike at that time of night. People did it all the time to take in the spectacular view.

One minute he was taking the curve and the next, he was frantically trying to apply his brake. But it was too late. He heard the sickening crunch of metal hitting an object and saw the person flying several feet in the air before landing somewhere on the embankment.

At first, he was paralyzed with a fear so debilitating, he could not move. But then the inertia had disappeared, leaving him shaking so much it took him a few seconds to climb out of the car.

The place was isolated, the area dark and slightly ominous. And what was even more daunting and made his knees weak, was the fact that the person was not moving. Which could mean he was unable to or even worse. The even worse aspect galvanized him into action and had him rushing forward.

The helmet was askew and on closer inspection, he realized that it was a woman, and she was bruised, her left leg at an odd angle, which probably meant that it was broken. Placing the tip of his finger on her neck, he almost staggered in relief when he felt the faint pulse.

Dragging the phone from his sports jacket, he started to dial the emergency number and then stopped. He was news. Anything he did was photographed and highlighted. There had been some negative stories about him lately and aside from that, he was slightly inebriated.

The accident was his fault. Completely. He could not risk another negative publicity. In that split second, he made a decision and when he did, he brought up the number on speed dial.

His father answered instantly as if he had been expecting the call.

“I am in trouble!” His throat was so tight, he could barely force the words out.

“What is it?”

Staring down at the still form, he told his dad what happened. To his credit and to Giorgio’s relief, he did not waste time in accusations and ‘I told you so’.

“I am calling Dario,” he said, referring to their lawyer on retainer.

“I need to call an ambulance. She is still alive, but her pulse is weak and thready.”

“Dario will take care of everything. Calling an ambulance will alert the press. Hang up and as soon as Dario arrives, leave immediately.”

“No! He shook his head firmly even though he could not see it. His face was clammy with sweat and his bowels felt weak and loose. He had spent his life sailing through, insulated by his immense wealth, without a care in the world.

People considered him to be shallow even though he was highly educated, but because of his intensely good looks, he was spoilt.

For the first time in his life, he was going to do the right thing. He had started praying even before he exited the vehicle, calling on a deity he had ignored since he turned sixteen and could not be forced or coerced to attend the lavish Catholic church his family had been members of for more than a century.

He was going to change his ways and become more responsible.

“I am staying.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I am staying. It is my mess and I am not leaving.”

With a frustrated sigh, his father gave up and hung up from him.

Sitting back on his haunches, he ran his hand over the cheek that was visible to him, feeling the smoothness of the skin. And she was cold! Icy cold. His breath lodged inside his throat and his body weakened even more.

Without a thought of his own comfort, he shrugged out of the sports jacket and draped it over her. Within minutes, a car pulled up behind his, the headlights bathing them in light. The middle-aged lawyer alighted, looking as if he was just coming from a function.

Taking in the situation at a glance, he spoke.

“A private ambulance is on its way.” He said briskly, his Italian accent barely noticeable. Dario was paid to do his clients’ bidding, and he was paid an enormous amount of money to see to their comfort. And he was incredibly resourceful.

“Edoardo has been apprised of the situation and she will be transported to the private clinic,” Crouching down, he stared at the still form and checked for a pulse before looking at the younger man. “You don’t need to be here.”

“I do!” His tone booked no argument.

“Ah, here comes the ambulance. Step back and let them perform their duty.”

*****

The hours ticked by so slowly, he felt as if he was going out of his mind. The transfer to the clinic had taken only minutes and by the time they got there, Dr. Edoardo Colombo was already waiting with his nurses, and they were still working on the patient.

Not for the first time was he grateful that his dad was such a powerhouse. Everything had been taken care of discreetly and swiftly. Alfredo had even left home to be here with him, and they were both waiting in a room where refreshment was provided.

“Coffee?”

“What?”

His father’s voice halted his prowl around the room. He felt jerky and uncertain of himself. The hood of the car was only dented and was drivable. He had followed behind the ambulance to the clinic.

“You need fuel.” Alfredo held out a foam cup in his direction. He was concerned, even though he did not show it. His son looked pale beneath his usually healthy tan and there was a line of strain around his lips. His hair was disheveled as if he had been dragging his fingers through the thick strands constantly.

“What I need is…” He broke off as the door was pushed open and the doctor came walking in. Dragging off his skull cap, he passed a hand around the back of his neck as if to ease the strain. His demeanor caused Giorgio to stumble, his hands clenching.

Before he could ask the dreaded question, the man spoke. “She is still out of it and will probably be for the remainder of the night.

A broken leg, contusions to the upper body and an impact on the brain. We won’t know for sure how bad it is until she wakes up. We will be doing some scans to see what’s going on there, but for now she is stable.” He divided a glance between the two men. “Any idea who she is?”

“No...” Giorgio swallowed the lump in his throat. “I retrieved her phone at the scene, but nothing else. I need to see her.”

“She is unconscious…”

“I need to see her.” His deep voice was authoritative. The doctor glanced at Alfredo, who nodded.

“You go ahead, the room to the left.”

With a jerky nod, he left the room.

“Were you being straight?” Alfredo asked tersely as soon as they were alone.

“Yes.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat, Edoardo nodded and made his way to the refreshment table. “Except the part where I suspect that she might be suffering from amnesia.”

Alfredo’s heart slammed into his chest. “How bad?”

“It might be temporary.” The man poured some quality coffee into a large mug. The clinic was funded by Alfredo’s company and was a research facility as well. Edoardo owed everything to his friend and benefactor and his silence and discretion was guaranteed.

“Is there any fear of her succumbing to her injuries?” He could not bear the thought of his son paying that high a price. Right now, Dario could keep everything under wraps from the police and the press, but if God forbid and the woman died, all bets would be off.

“Early times yet, but I have every confidence she will recover.”

*****

The room was shrouded in partial darkness, with the drapes drawn. The silence was punctured by the beeping of the machines. Tubes were attached to her and her forehead was bandaged, the stark white startling against the ebony skin.

She looked so still, that at first, he wondered if she was breathing, but he noticed the rise and fall of her bosom beneath the hospital gown.

Pulling up a chair, he sat heavily, feeling as if he had aged thirty years in a little over an hour. His life had changed irrevocably and no matter the outcome of this disaster, he would never be the same.

Edoardo had assured them that she would make it, but he knew instinctually that anything could happen and the woman lying on the bed could take a turn.

Her left leg was encased in plaster and elevated. Picking up her hand, he noticed the slender fingers and how slender she was. His touch was light and gentle. He wanted to apologize for driving too fast while under the influence. And if she gets out of this alive, he was going to make it up to her.

“I am supposed to talk to you.” He began and had to clear his throat to continue. “I really don’t know what to say except I am sorry as hell. I didn’t see you, but then I rounded the corner too quickly…”

Closing his eyes briefly, he struggled with guilt and despair. “I don’t know who you are,” he stopped, remembering the phone he had shoved into the pocket of his trousers.

Taking it out, he stared at the screen saver. There was a family photo of what looked like a father and his two children. She was on the right and the man on the left bore enough of a striking resemblance to her to be a family member, possibly a brother.

And it was not an Italian number, he also recognized the series of number because he had spent some time in America. She was a visitor! Letting go of her hand, he took her thumb and pressed it down hard on the LED. It opened immediately.

Pushing away the guilt he felt for invading her privacy, he pushed away from the bed and walked over to the corner. Leaning against the wall, he stood there staring at the icons for a minute, before touching the phone icon.

The last number was someone name Julian – brother. Taking a deep breath and checking the time, he calculated the difference. It was now after ten at night in his country, which would make it way too early to be calling a stranger with bad news.

But he did not want the man to be frantic with worry. The call had to be made and he was not going to leave that job to Dario. He was going to do it himself.

Pressing the number, he waited for the phone to be answered.

On the third ring, a muffled male voice responded. “This had better be good. Do you have any idea what time it is? Jules…”

“My name is Giorgio.”

The pause was profound before the man demanded. “What the hell are you doing with my sister’s phone?”

“I am afraid there has been an accident. Your sister was injured…”

“Injured. Jesus! What happened?”

Giorgio gave him an abbreviated version of the accident, leaving out the part where he had been drinking and driving too fast. He had taken the coward’s way out, but he would deal with that aspect later on.

“What’s her prognosis? And where the hell is the doctor?”

“A broken leg, some contusions…” He hesitated, wondering how much more he should reveal. “There might be some brain damage.”

This time the pause was lengthier, and Giorgio held his breath.

“Might?”

“The doctor…”

“Why are you calling me and not some hospital personnel?”

He had been dreading the question.

“I was at the scene.”

“What the hell does that mean and who caused the accident?”

Giorgio leaned back, his head resting on the wall. Time to face the music.

“I did.”

He waited as the man became silent.

“How?” The voice was clipped and unfriendly.

“I rounded the corner…”

“Which translated to - you were driving too fast and could not control the vehicle.”

“She came out of nowhere…”

“Don’t bullshit me Mr. … What did you say your name was again?”

“Giorgio Russo.”

Silence again, this time longer.

“Of the Russo kingdom.” The other man’s voice was suddenly filled with understanding. “And being the rich asshole you are, this is being kept hushed up. Where the hell is my sister being kept?”

“At a private clinic and I assure you she is getting the best care possible…”

“Oh, I am sure. With you people, money is no problem. I suppose you are waiting until she wakes up to ascertain how much damage before you quote a number?”

Giorgio stiffened in anger and had to remind himself that the man was entitled to his insults. This was new for him.

He was accustomed to people kowtowing to him, bending over backwards to please him. He was the son of Alfredo Russo, from a lengthy line of important people in society. He was Italian royalty, but right now, none of that mattered one bit.

“I understand…”

“You don’t understand shit! I might be a lowly American lawyer, but I know the goddamn law and if my sister suffers from any lasting consequences, I will make certain you and your lofty family feel the effect of my wrath.”

Giorgio closed his eyes and took a breath. “I am sure you want to come and check on her yourself. We will make the jet available…”

“I am due in court and cannot very well hand over the case to someone else.” The frustration in the man’s voice was evident. “I need to speak to the doctor.”

“Of course. I assure you Mr….”

“Campbell.” Was the terse reply. “I was the one who persuaded my sister to take that trip. We just lost our dad almost a month ago and she… Never mind that. Get the doctor on the phone.”

*****

“Was he threatening to notify the authorities?” Giorgio was slumped in one of the armchairs in the waiting room, a brooding expression on his face.

His father had tried to persuade him to go home and get some sleep, but he wasn’t budging.

“No, but that is an incredibly angry young man. I took his details and promised to give him round the clock update.” The doctor looked from father to son. “He wants to fly into the country as soon as he is able.”

“She just lost her dad.”

The two men stared at him in consternation.

“Cristo!” Alfredo muttered, making the sign of the cross.

“I am going to suggest that you both go on home and get some rest.” The doctor suggested. “I will call if there are any changes, which I doubt will happen for the rest of the night.” He directed a glance at Giorgio. “You have my word.”

“He is right son; you look like hell.”

He nodded and pushed himself out of the chair. “Call me the minute there is anything to report.”

“Of course.”

*****

Nightmares chased him for the remainder of the night, and it was close to dawn before he succumbed to sleep.

But even though he had gotten but a few hours of shut eye, he was awake at dawn and a glance at his phone indicated that he had not received any calls. Swinging his legs off the bed, he dragged restless fingers through his hair. He had insisted on driving the vehicle home last night, much to his father’s distress.

“Don’t worry papa,” he had told the man sardonically. “I have reached my quota of accidents for the year.”

That remark had not sat well with him, and he had simply turned and walked over to his own vehicle.

They had both arrived home within minutes of each other and met in the marble foyer. To his credit and to Giorgio’s immense relief, there had been no accusations or lecture. In fact, his father had not said anything at all except that they should both retire and get some sleep.

Now sitting on the edge of the bed, he was waiting with trepidation for the phone call that would herald the awful news that he had taken another person’s life. That he had not received any late-night call was of no comfort to him.

That young woman who was visiting their country had been mowed down by him and was lying on her back with tubes attached to her and a cast on her leg. She had just lost her father, and he had compounded her problem, by taking his vehicle out and carelessly driving above the speed limit.

He deserved to be flogged within an inch of his life. What was even worse was that there wasn’t a scratch on him. The seatbelt had tethered him, only straining against his chest and his clothing had protected his flesh from the imprint. While that young woman was lying in a clinic with possible brain damage.

The car had sustained minimum damage, a mere fender bender. She had taken everything. He had hit her from behind and sent her airborne before she landed hard in the embankment, jarring her with enough force to dislodge the helmet and breaking her leg against some rocks.

His nightmare had been vicious as he kept wondering what if she lost her memory permanently or became brain dead? Would he be able to live with himself if that happened?

He was also selfishly thinking that just a few seconds could ruin a person’s life. Yesterday, he was playing polo with friends at the club and making plans for today, ones that would never be realized.

And now – now, he was mired down in despair and hopelessness. His dad’s money had ensured that this latest catastrophic incident would be kept out of the press for now.

But if she did not recover, he would be facing criminal charges and that was what was frightening him. He had spent his entire life skating through, without a care in the world. His every need and want were provided for, without him having to lift a finger.

His suite of rooms was comprised of three very large bedrooms, two and a half baths, a sitting room, a private balcony, a gym and a game room with a pool and a theater where he entertained friends, if he was in the mood.

He had household staff who picked up after him and he was careless and untidy. His closet was a work of art and was more like a department store than anything else.

He was not into wearing a lot of jewelry – an expensive smart watch and a thin gold necklace with a medium sized cross pendant which had been a gift from his mother. The thought of her caused nostalgia to course through him, the memories of her swamping him.