PROLOGUE
PROLOGUE
The trouble with brothers?
They know.
Before heading into the meeting, Sevandro Casadio slid open the private drawer of his desk to collect his wallet and caught sight of a wedding band.
It still startled him—as if a foreign object had been placed in his drawer…something that didn’t belong to him. Here in Dubai, aged twenty-three, it still didn’t feel real that back home in Lucca he had a wife.
He’d never worn the ring—on his wedding day his hand, thanks to a fight with his brother, had been too swollen. But Sheikh Mahir had made a comment, pointing out that the wedding had been three months ago and surely his hand was better now.
Sev had got the implication. Sheikh Mahir was very much a family man, and his relief had been evident when, a few short weeks after commencing work in Dubai, Sev had told him that he was marrying a girl from home.
‘That is excellent.’ He had smiled at Sev, the young gun who was determined to make waves in the hotel industry. ‘A stable home life is good for business.’
Sev had attended the same prestigious Milan school as the Sheikh’s son, Adal. They hadn’t particularly been friends—Sev was guarded and did not make friends easily. Still, one year he’d invited Adal to the summer festival in Lucca. In turn, Sev had been invited to spend time in Dubai.
More recently he’d approached Sheikh Mahir, telling him about a hotel in Tuscany that was about to go under and explaining his well-thought-out plan, but Mahir had been uninterested.
‘I have enough going on here…’
‘I recall you saying you were looking for investment opportunities in Italy.’
‘That was when Adal was considering living there. I wanted a project for him.’
‘This could be one,’ Sev had persisted, knowing very well Adal wouldn’t lift a finger, but sensing an in for himself. ‘Adal and I get on.’
Barely… But he would take the idle Adal off his father’s hands for the duration if that was what it took.
Sev wanted capital and, as he’d told Sheikh Mahir, ‘The owners need a quick sale—it’s too good to pass up.’
‘If it’s such a good opportunity, why did your grandfather say no?’
‘I haven’t discussed it with him,’ Sev had admitted. ‘I’d prefer to keep family and business separate.’
‘An impossible ask.’ Sheikh Mahir had sighed heavily. ‘Everything we do is for family.’ He’d paused then, and taken a long, pondering look at Sev. ‘What if I told you I had a project here? Well, it’s more Adal’s venture…’
It had taken him a moment to register that Mahir was offering him opportunities in both Italy and in Dubai, and Sevandro had embraced both. He’d flown back to Lucca to celebrate…perhaps celebrated a little too recklessly one night…
Sheikh Mahir had been correct.
The moment Sev had found out he was to be a father his priorities had changed. While work had always taken precedence there had always been plenty of time to indulge in his playboy ways. No more. He would work not just to fulfil his own ambitions but for Rosa, and the baby they had made, in a heady, brief encounter.
Everything he did now was for family.
There had been a brief honeymoon, then back to work in Dubai. Rosa did not understand why he didn’t remain in Lucca—after all the Casadio Winery was as good his.
She didn’t understand that he might want to make his own way.
And he didn’t understand the delay in announcing her pregnancy.
‘People will talk,’ Rosa said. ‘Let’s wait a few more weeks.’
But then she’d called him in Dubai and told him she was bleeding. He’d flown home immediately—but to the news that their baby was gone…
He’d grieved alone.
Rosa refused to discuss things. Her parents, with whom she was staying, stonewalled him too, calling him insensitive.
‘It was my baby too,’ he’d pointed out, and then called over their shoulders so that Rosa could hear, ‘We have an appointment with Dr Romero.’
He’d made several on his many trips home since the loss, but there had always been a reason she couldn’t attend.
His family, unaware of the baby’s existence, hadn’t noticed that Sev, always solemn and serious, was even more so on these trips. His brother Dante might have picked up on it, might have heard he was staying at a hotel, but they were no longer speaking—and anyway, Dante was back in Milan…
In Dubai the frenetic pace continued, with deadlines to be met and meetings to attend, but for now, with his marriage well into injury time, they could wait.
He didn’t just want answers—he needed them.
Certainly he wasn’t going to put on a wedding band just to appease Sheikh Mahir. Placing it back in the drawer, he looked out at the glittering view of the Persian Gulf.
He took up his phone and was about to call Dr Romero’s office to make an appointment to speak with the family doctor and find out what the hell had gone on, when Dante’s name flashed across the screen.
At first he thought his brother must be calling to apologise for what he had said about Rosa. Dante’s words had been the reason for the groom’s swollen hand on his wedding day, and the best man’s cut and blackened eyes. Unsure what to say to his brother, he let the call go.
But had Dante been right in his assessment of Rosa? Had there been a baby at all?
Dante called again and this time Sev he answered.
‘Sev.’
The moment he heard the strain in his brother’s voice, and then a sharp intake of breath, Sev knew this was about more than their fight.
Brothers know .
‘I have bad news…’ Dante started.
But his words were followed by the ache of a long pause and Sev’s back stiffened, his jaw clenched as he braced himself for whatever was to come.
‘The helicopter…’ Dante said, referring to the family helicopter that buzzed over the hills regularly. ‘It went down just after take-off. The rescuers are on their way.’
‘Who?’ Sev tried to ask, only no sound came out. ‘Who?’ he said, this time abruptly, knowing it would likely be their parents, for they used it frequently.
Sadly, he was right. ‘They were on their way to Milan to see me.’ Dante’s voice was strained as he said what he must. ‘Sev, Rosa was also on board.’
His reaction was silence, and yet there was a huge roar in his head—so much so that he swung on his chair and looked out of the window, almost expecting to see a fighter jet had gone up. But no, the sky was Dubai-blue and the ocean was glittering and azure as it had been a mere moment ago…
* * *
There were no survivors.
Both brothers were pallbearers.
Together, but apart.
Sev helped carry their father’s coffin into Lucca’s magnificent cathedral. Dante walked behind, helping to carry their mother.
They took their places in the front pew, either side of their grandfather, holding up the devastated Gio. At the cemetery they greeted the mourners, then stood side by side as their parents were buried together.
The wake was held at their property, a huge palazzo on sprawling grounds, set on Lucca’s ancient medieval walls. It was an elegant affair, with people speaking in low funeral voices—
‘Che tristeza!’
‘How sad!’
‘Such a vibrant couple…’
‘They were so happy…’
‘It’s so hard to believe just three months ago they were celebrating Sevandro and Rosa’s wedding…’
Their voices would trail off for a moment. Then…
‘How is he doing?’
No one knew.
Least of all Sev.
Sev had never been one to reveal his feelings, and wasn’t about to start on this day.
He could hear the comments, though.
‘Have you seen Dante’s scar?’
‘Hopefully this will reunite the brothers—they need each other now.’
‘Twenty-three is far too young to be a widower…’
* * *
As the last mourners left, Sev checked in on Gio, who lay pale and fragile on a vast bed, still in his funeral suit.
‘I never thought I’d say this,’ Gio sobbed as Sevandro undressed him, ‘I am glad your nonna is dead.’ He’d mourned her for as long as Sev could remember. ‘This would have been too much for her.’
‘Try and rest, Gio,’ Sev told him, dimming the sidelight. ‘Dante’s fetching your tablets and then you need to sleep.’
‘Yes…’ Gio lay back, closing his eyes on the day he’d buried his son and his daughter-in-law, but then he must have realised there was more grief to come, for he suddenly rallied, reaching for Sev’s arm and grabbing the sleeve of his black suit. ‘We’ll be there for you tomorrow.’
‘I know that,’ Sev said, looking at the thin pale fingers clutching his arm, not turning his head as Dante came in with Gio’s medicine.
‘Dante?’ Gio said, even deep in mourning attempting to heal the brothers’ rift. ‘I think you should help carry Rosa’s coffin tomorrow—’
‘No need,’ Sev interrupted. ‘It’s all taken care of.’
He stood and left Dante to say goodnight to their grandfather and walked down the long corridor, taking the stairs up to the floor that had once been his and Dante’s. Stepping into his old bedroom, he flicked open his case and started to pack, only briefly glancing up as Dante came to the door. The scar that ran through his eyebrow was an angry pink. Garish and vivid. But then so too were the memories of their fight on the eve of his and Rosa’s wedding.
‘You’re packing?’
Sevandro said nothing.
‘Are you going to stay with Rosa’s parents?’
Sevandro made a slight hissing noise, one that said, When hell freezes over —or at least it did to the brother who had once known him so well.
‘So where?’
Sev gritted his teeth and snapped the case closed.
‘Don’t stay at a hotel tonight…’
Sev had been staying at hotels a lot since his marriage, but he wasn’t about to discuss that with Dante now and, picking up his case, he left.
‘Sevandro.’ His brother bounded down the stairs behind him, then beat him to the vast doors. ‘Please…’ He attempted to halt him. ‘What I said on the eve of your wedding—’
‘Not now,’ Sev cut in. No, he didn’t want to hear it on the eve of Rosa’s funeral. ‘Just—’
He could not complete his sentence. Since the news had hit—since the roar like a fighter jet had faded—he’d been numb. Completely numb and unable to place a label on a single feeling. He didn’t know if it was grief, or anger, or even guilt because he’d never loved his wife. It was as if a fog had descended and wrapped around him, seeping into his veins, sedating all emotion. And that was how he’d got on the plane home. That was how he’d dealt with his family, as well as Rosa’s, and yet now the fog seemed to lift for a moment, a brief surge of something hitting him—and it was something he could finally label.
Protectiveness.
A surge of protection towards Rosa.
Tomorrow he would lay his young wife to rest in the ground. However bad the private hell of their marriage had been, tomorrow he would do the right thing by her. He looked at his brother and thought of all Dante had once said about Rosa and knew there would be no reconciliation tonight.
‘We’ll keep things polite for the sake of Gio, but don’t even think about carrying her coffin tomorrow,’ Sev warned him. ‘Or I’ll put a matching scar over the other eye.’
* * *
Rosa’s service was held in the church they had been married in. Out of town, it was nestled in the foothills of Lucca, close to both families’ wineries. Sev, along with Rosa’s father and her cousins, carried the coffin. Watching her being lowered into the ground all he could hear was their final row, when once again she’d refused to see a doctor or answer any of the many questions he had.
‘Please don’t leave me, Sevandro,’ she’d sobbed. ‘What will people think?’
Her wake was held at the smaller De Santis Winery, and Sev felt a hypocrite as he accepted the handshakes and condolences. Rosa’s parents, who had known he was on the edge of ending the marriage, seemed to have forgotten all about that—they sobbed and spoke of the happy couple and how in love they had been.
It was hardly the place to correct them.
Stepping outside, he walked away from the rather dilapidated cellar door, where the mourners were gathered, and found a secluded spot. But there was no solace there. The wreckage of the helicopter was still in the hills ahead of him.
Dante came and joined him, leaning on a fence. ‘How are you holding up?’
Sev didn’t answer, because he didn’t know himself.
‘It’s pretty grim in there.’
‘Well, what did you expect?’ Sev responded, not turning his head, just staring at the wreckage. But then he had a question for his brother. ‘Why were they going to Milan?’
‘Rosa was attending Fashion Week.’
‘I know that.’ He’d found out that Rosa had asked his mother to secure her an invitation—clearly, she had recovered quickly from their final row. ‘But our parents weren’t attending—they were going to have lunch with you. Why?’
‘To talk about us,’ Dante admitted. ‘You and I. They wanted to know why we’d fallen out.’ He could feel his brother’s eyes on him. ‘Sev, I should never have said what I did that night. I don’t know if studying law has made me cynical, but at the time I really thought Rosa might be just saying she was pregnant.’
Rosa had been saying exactly that.
‘Sev,’ Dante continued with urgency. ‘I was worried she might be trying to trap you into marriage. Clearly, I was wrong.’
Sev did think of correcting Dante—telling him that very possibly he’d been right. Dr Romero had been there at the funeral, and Sev had even thought of making another appointment to see him, getting the answers to the questions he’d been coming around to asking before the news of the accident had come in.
For what purpose, though?
While he might have married Rosa out of duty, it didn’t end just because she’d died… There was the scent of soil in his nostrils, the memory of her last words—how she’d cared what others might think.
So he did not reveal to his brother the hell his marriage had been. Instead he pushed up from the wall he had been leaning on to head back to the wake and accept the handshakes and condolences and honour other people’s memory of Rosa.
‘Leave it,’ he said to his brother.
‘Sev…’
‘Let her rest.’
It was all he could do for Rosa now.