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She's losing weight, I see, watching for what must be the thousandth time the footage recorded by the stables' security cameras this morning. Seeing Gabriella do anything other than waste away is the only reason for this.
Finding her sister has proven to be a much more difficult task than one would expect. The girl disappeared from the face of the Earth as if she had never been on it in the first place, and worse than this discovery is that this is a much more common event in Brazilian hospitals than anyone would imagine.
After almost two weeks since I told her about Raquel's disappearance, with each day without an update, Gabriella seems to retreat further into a shell that only my horses have been invited into.
She sleeps in my bed and anxiously waits for me to come home every night, hoping that I will bring her news. Gabriella uses my body with the same intensity with which I appropriate hers, and yet she moves further away with each passing day.
It's as if in two weeks she has built a dome around herself, one that I have respected, but that she begins to push beyond the limits I am capable of supporting. She is mine and not even pain has the right to steal her from me.
Forcing my way through the barriers would be my choice in any situation. However, it doesn't seem like the most efficient way to remind Gabriella that there shouldn't be any between us. Mainly because thebambinadoesn't even seem to realize what she's doing.
It's almost as if the physical distance imposed by everyday needs makes her forget that no matter how many literal miles lie between us, she's still not alone. My guess is that after a lifetime of having to deal with her own losses without anyone to share them with, Gabriella is only falling back on her old habits because she doesn't know how to deal with the pain now that she cares about feeling it.
The contracts stacked on my desk, awaiting my review for weeks, attract my attention. Gianni will probably have a stroke at any moment if I don't set a date for them to be signed, but anything concerning Eritrea has become a forbidden subject in my mind.
The last piece of advice my father gave me is presented as if he had been summoned from the depths of hell. I bristle at the realization that I may actually be becoming an indecisive leader. I let out a long exhale and look up when my office door opens without announcement.
“Ciao, Fratello”Tizziano greets, already plopping down on the chair in front of my table. I pause the video on my computer screen. “I heard you had the cameras in the stables replaced with new ones that also record audio. Any special reason?”
“Any particular reason for you to invade my office, Tizziano?”
“Boredom?” he suggests, and I sit back in my chair.
“Five seconds, Tizziano.”
“I talked to Matteo.”
“Something I should worry about?”
“Actually, he's the one who's worried.”
“I thought this was theconsigliere's natural state.”
“He said you refused yet another contact attempt from Massimo Coppeline. I know that's not my role,fratello, but generally, although I don't understand your way of thinking, I can understand your way of acting. This time, I don't understand either of them.”
“You're right about one thing, Tizziano.” My brother laughs loudly.
“You're going to say that's not my role, aren't you?”
“Precisely.” My brother's face takes on an expression rarely seen on it. “What?”
“I'm just observing.” I ignore the provocation because I understood perfectly what he meant.
“Do it out of here.”
“So, you can watch your new pay-per-view channel in privacy, right?” he asks, indicating my computer screen with his head. “I already do that; I just need a moment. Like I said, I know that's not my role, unfortunately for you, fratello, I'm worried enough to speak up anyway and I'm never worried, Vitto. Your demonstrations of force to Massimo cost us marriage alliances that we were not willing to make with the Bratva and the Camorra.”
“I didn't marry you, Tizziano.”
“That's not the point. The point is, these unplanned alliances were fair because they were intended to put old Coppeline in his place, but what was the point of making him kneel if you didn't intend to accept his prayers?”
“Are you questioning my actions, Tizziano?”
“No. I'm saying we had a plan and if it changed, it would be nice to get a memo. Nothing beyond that.”
“Noted.”
“Very well. And my head is still stuck to my neck.Mammawill be proud,” he mocks and gives me a wink before getting up. Tizziano walks to the office door, but before passing through it, he speaks over his shoulder. “And, Vitto, we really need to schedule another dinner like that.”
