The Mafia Princess and The Billionaire Twins

Chapter Three – Elliott

Chapter Three – Elliott

I take the cup of hot coffee to my lips and let out a frustrated sigh as once again my pager beeps. Seriously, there is no rest for the wicked. Tonight is hectic in A&E, thanks to my twin brother and his band playing at the football stadium. Girls are being transported by ambulance, most of them having passed out at the gig, others suffering small injuries from various missiles that have been launched by the crowd, others partaking of too many recreational pleasures. However, I am not sure if I am making the situation worse. The last young lady I treated ended up falling off her bed in shock, when I walked into the room. She was gasping, hardly able to breathe, thinking I was a mirage and that her doctor was the object of her fantasy’s, my twin brother.

“Dr Masters, we have another ambulance coming in from the stadium, courtesy of your brother,” Janice, one of the older and more judgemental nursing staff tells me, giving me a look of disapproval, as if it was somehow my fault.

Still, I don’t have this to put up with for much longer. The letter I received yesterday weighs heavily on my mind.

I place my coffee cup down, and follow Janice to the newest patient I have to treat, and brace myself for the inevitable conversation that will take place.

Janice pulls back the blue curtain, and it is a woman that greets me, not a teenage girl like I half expected. This girl is in her mid to late twenties, her short black pixie-cut hair is styled into spikes, and her eyes are swollen. The normal whites of them are now red, the smell of alcohol wafts from her, as she bends her head over and begins to empty the contents of her stomach all over Janice’s uniform, much to the nurses' annoyance and dismay.

“This is Cara Makin. She was at the concert, and has been brought in with a suspected overdose,” Janice said. The judgement in her voice is clear for anyone to hear.

“Miss Makin,” I said, stepping forward.

“Mrs, I married the f*****g bastard,” the woman slurred at me, then blinked up at me, her face breaking into a wide smile.

“Wow, that was some good stuff, I am still tripping! My doctor is Jaxon from the band,” she declared.

I ignored the comment, not wanting to indulge the patient. I love my brother, but when he is playing in the city where I work, it causes me more than the odd headache with his confused fans.

“Mrs, Makin, I am Dr Masters, now can you tell me exactly what you took this evening?” I asked, as I laid her back and Janice rushed out of the room, to change, sending in one of the other nurses to cover for her.

“Cara, call me Cara, you sexy beast,” She winked.

I swallowed the wave of disgust I felt, not that I am a saint, but drugs are not something I would find attractive in a girl, plus I don’t need to ‘go there’ with a married woman, there are plenty of willing single ladies I can get my hands on who are not my patients to satisfy my needs.

“What drugs did you take this evening, Mrs Makin,” I asked, emphasising Mrs.

“Just some mushrooms, oh and a couple of E’s, and f**k tons of alcohol. Do not judge, it was a concert, plus I need s**t to get through my day after marrying that lazy arsehole.” The patient declared.

That was not something I needed to know about, nor did I want to. Her eyes began to roll back into her head, and her body convulsed.

Shit.

I pressed the crash button at the side of the bed and quickly laid her flat. The monitors were going crazy.

“She is going into cardiac arrest.” I shouted, as a team of my colleagues rushed into the room, and I gave them a quick brief about her condition and what she had told me.

After some intensive treatment, the woman stabilized and her husband was called, who was making his way to Sunderland from the village of Wylam in Northumberland. I walked back into my small room, and picked up the now cold coffee, and took a sip, scrunching up my face. No doubt I would get another call soon enough, so a cold milky latte would have to do for now.

My mind wanders back to the letter, from Doctor Eva Dovizioso, with an offer of employment to head up her A&E department in the small Sicilian hospital I visited four years ago. That was back when I saw her, the Mafia princess herself, who was sexy as sin with a glint in her eye. Both my brother and I wanted the girl, but the opportunity never arose, and after he performed at her 17th birthday party, we never saw her again, after waiting for a year, hoping to meet her when she was an adult.

The hospital was small, understaffed, and the work the Mafia Don’s wife was doing was amazing. They were making a difference on that small island, and ignoring the fact that the gunshot wounds that were awaiting treatment when I visited were more than likely due to her husband, I really felt I wanted to work there, and truly make a difference.

Six months ago, I received an email out of the blue, asking me if I would go for an interview, now that I had the relative experience, as Dr Dovizioso was looking to begin her retirement and devote more of her time to the family. Quite which family she was referring to, the biological one, or the mafia one, I did not know, or did I want to know, truth be told. I had flown out there a month ago for an interview with her, and yesterday the offer arrived. It was a handsome salary, with a start date in 4 weeks, just enough time for me to work out my notice here at the Royal. Just one thing held me back. My twin. He had just returned from a world tour, and in twelve months I had only seen him a handful of times. He was planning on taking a three-month break before heading back into the recording studio with his band, and we had plans to spend every moment we could together.

I wondered if he would come with me for a month or so, but I knew I would be working hard, probably even longer hours than I work now. But this was a dream come true for me. Not just the job but the thought of seeing her again, Sarah-Sofia Dovizioso.

The question I had asked myself and my brother over the past four years invaded my thoughts once more. Was she the one? She was wild and free, she was not your typical girl, even at the tender age of 17. She had sin deep inside her, and lived outside the rules. Would she embrace my deepest, darkest fantasy, or would she find my needs and those of my twin brother disgusting? Those were questions I could not answer. Plus, would her father let me and Jaxon live if he found out just what we wanted from his daughter?

A knock at the door disturbed my thoughts, as a nurse walked into the room, smiling at me.

“Sorry, but the husband of Mrs Makin has arrived and is asking questions,” she told me, and I placed my cold coffee back down, and straightening my white coat went out to meet him.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I reached my parent's house. Normally I stayed in the old penthouse apartment at the top of the Masters building, just up from the east end of the city. But my brother was home and I wanted to spend family time. I had three days off shift, and wanted to see my family before I hit the sack. Jaxon and I had a lot to discuss. As I walked through the door, the smell of bacon and eggs greeted me.

“Hi Elliott, breakfast is almost ready,” my mother smiled, her big hazel eyes filled with happiness at having both her boys home again.

My niece and nephew were busy jumping on top of my dad, as they played fighting with him, and he laughed with joy. Memories of my childhood flashed back, a time when my brother and I would attack him as we rough housed with him.

“Is Jaxon here?” I asked.

“Yes, in his room,” Mam smiled, knowing he would be the person I wanted to see the most.

I took the stairs two at a time, and hammered on my twin's door.

“Oi, you, get up,” I playfully growled at my brother.

“f**k off, I am tired,” Jaxon groaned.

“You are tired, thanks to you melting the knickers of half the women in Sunderland, I had a hectic night!” I rebuked him.

Jaxon chuckled, then sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes.

“Good to see you bro,” He grinned at me, and we embraced.

I took a seat in the chair next to his bed, then looked at him.

“What is it?” he asked.

I looked over to see if anyone was around who might overhear us. This conversation was personal, and I did not want our parents to know before I made my final decision. Seeing the coast was clear, I looked at my brother, then in our secret language we had made up as kids, I told him about my letter.

Jaxon looked at me wide-eyed, then a small smile spread on his face.

“Guess we are both going to Sicily,” he grinned, the excitement swirling in his eyes.

“Guess we both are,” I smirked back at him. Maybe, just maybe, our dreams will come true, and the thought excited me, and I could tell my twin brother as well.