The Don's Doctor

Taffy

Vincent's POV

Renzo bolts into the nursery carrying the thermometer that Chiara told him to get. Federico is doddering behind every one else as usual. Viviana’s eyes are protruding a little as she stares at Chiara who is examining her son. Wailing of discomfort puts everyone on edge as my nephew kicks his chubby legs, balls up his fists, and screams with such gusto that his skin is flushed. The only interruption to the sobbing is the barking cough that would interrupt him frequently.

“His temperature is a little high,” Chiara concludes, before looking at her father.

It is a shock to see her defer to him. We have come to rely on her as the expert in all things medical, but her father will obviously have more insight into childhood fevers, since he is a GP. Expertly, he lifts Valentino into his arms and walks around the room with him upright. This seems to calm him a little and we all watch in wonder.

“I think it is croup, but nothing too serious so far, he’s coping with it well. It will be better when he is upright, and lots of cuddling from mum for now. Someone will have to stay with him through the night to monitor him. We will need to get some syrup for the temperature though,” Federico concludes.

Renzo stands up to return to the onsite mini theater, but Chiara is quick to save his legs.

“We don’t have anything suitable for children’s illnesses here, it’s only prepared for adult trauma. I can get everything we need from a pharmacy if someone will take me.”

I have been both applauding and berating myself since I declared my feelings for her. The countermoves by Barone are becoming more vicious, and my focus is set on his agenda. I know that without stealing moments alone with her, I will never be able to work on the connection that I desperately want. Before anyone else could offer, I rush her down to the garage, and I am driving us to the shops.

The women I had dated in the past had been enamoured by designer shoes, fashion labels and elite experiences, but watching Chiara in the supermarket is another marker of how she is different to anyone I had ever met before. Darting to the medicine aisle, she loads up the basket with the essentials we will need for Valentino through the night. Accomplishing her mission, she heads to the checkout, but her eyes are fixed on the signs above her head.

“Is there something you want while we are here?” I ask her.

She looks a little guilty, for a moment, and I realise that she is in a rush to get back. Eventually, temptation wins her over, and she indicates she will be two minutes, before dashing to get some peanut butter bars, and bags of salt water taffy, and finally clutches a hot water bottle to her belly.

“I know I’m Italian, but I’m a sucker for American comforts too.” She exclaims.

I open the taffy and throw it in my mouth. The look of shock on her face made me want to take a picture. Staring at my mouth and the way my Adam’s apple bobs up and down as I swallow has her biting the corner of her mouth as if she is imagining all the other things I could do to her with it. The thought makes me feel hot beneath my shirt as well.

“I’m the same, I have a secret stash in my desk draw.” I smile at her.

“I can’t believe you just ate one before you bought the bag. You better have some in your desk, because you owe me one now.” She says semi-seriously, it is all I could do not to laugh at her indignation at my very petty crime.

Clearly, she is pretending she disproves of my behaviour rather than admitting her fundamental desire to have me to herself.

After we have bagged up our items, I quickly give the cashier the dollars, much to Chiara’s dismay. In the car we set off back to our house, sharing her essential supplies that I am determined to keep topped up for her going forward.

“This is a lovely car.” She compliments, but I know she is really asking me about how I can afford it.

“Thank-you, this was the first car I bought myself from my first pay check that I received from my first job after graduation.” Her head whips around so quickly, I’m surprised it’s still attached.

“You heard me correctly.” I tease her. “I’m an architect. My dad never wanted to leave me with the family business in the state it was in. He wanted us to be a legitimate business corporation. The idea was that our name would be everywhere, because I had built everything. Of course, that’s not how it turned out.”

It was sad to think of the plans we had, and the promises that couldn’t be kept. Chiara places her hand on top of mine, which is on the shift, and holds on tightly. I am absorbing the support she is offering me.

“Want to see what she can really do?” I ask, before pushing my foot down on the gas, and revelling in the thrill of the speed.

Enjoying the danger of breaking the rules, she throws her head back, and whoops with excitement. It is a vision I am determined to remember, even when all my other recollections are dim.

Blue and red lights illuminate the road, and I can see we are being pulled over. It must be a new officer who doesn’t know me, because there is no reason for him to be patrolling so close to my house, and in all my years this is the first time I have ever been stopped. I already have the fifty dollar bundle in my hand, ready for the bribe. The click of his boots on the tarmac is the first thing we hear before he gently taps on the window. Unexpectedly, he isn’t a new face, in fact, he is one that I remember distinctly.

“Good evening, Officer Miller.” I address him.

“Mr Benedetti, may I have your licence, please?”

I allow him to shuffle through my documents, smiling internally. We hadn’t got off to the best start the first time we met, and I am sure he is going to hold that against me. It isn’t that I don’t like him. In many ways, I respect him. He is a testament of decency, a duty-led man. Unfortunately, in a world where I need to get things done, his righteousness could be a real obstacle.

“Is there a reason you were going so fast tonight?” He questions, as I check through my details to ensure they have all been returned.

“My nephew isn’t well, he’s only a baby and my sister is really concerned about him. I’m rushing home to deliver the medicine. Obviously, it is an urgent matter.” I explain, hoping that appealing to his compassion might make this show end more quickly.

“I didn’t realise that your sister had a son. How old is he?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but he is coming up to his first birthday. Why are you hoping to buy him a present?” I answer, sarcastically.

“I hope he recovers soon. Slow down, for your own safety as well as this young lady’s.” He advises me, before walking back to his own vehicle.

“How did you know him?” Chiara asks, with a strange look on her face.

“Miller and I first met when he was sent to liaise with my family after the murder of my parents. I remember that I had offered him money to say that he had done all that was necessary and to leave us alone, but he refused. He loitered around for ages before he got the hint that we wouldn’t be sharing any of our leads with him.” I summarise, while reaching over to put my documents in the glove compartment.

Accidently, I brush her thigh as I righted myself, and heard a little gasp escape her. She couldn’t look at me after that, and I found her shyness even more endearing.