In The Venetian's Bed. Susan Stephens

aftermath of Jake’s accident that had propelled her work forward, so it had done some good.

      Hearing Molly chatting happily with Marianna now made Nell angry all over again on her daughter’s behalf. What kind of cold-hearted individual lost interest in his patient the moment the crisis was over? She had expected a few words at least for Molly, even perhaps some acknowledgement for herself—she wasn’t sure why or of what, just that she’d wanted something from him. But he’d simply handed them over to the care of his nursing team, written a brief letter and disappeared.

      That was years ago. She was over it now, and having Molly with her in Venice had transformed the dreaded return into fun. No one was going to spoil that for them. As far as Nell was concerned they were laying the final ghost together. And now it was almost time for the meeting to start. She had to forget Barbaro and concentrate on that.

      ‘Ready?’

      Nell smiled as Marianna asked the question. ‘As I’ll ever be. Come with me for luck, Molly?’

      ‘Can I sit in the audience when you go onto the platform?’

      ‘Of course. Marianna, could you stay with her?’ Nell was used to imposing her will these days, but never on a woman she considered to be almost a surrogate mother to them both.

      ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Marianna assured her.

      

      The first few seconds of any talk were always the worst. After that Nell always settled into her stride. Today was different. Today, as she delivered her prepared talk, Nell was conscious of two things: Molly and Marianna creeping down the steps at the side of the platform to find a seat near the front…and a man standing at the back of the room in the shadows.

      Nell felt him even before she saw him, and her heart raced in response. From that moment on, his presence was a nagging distraction. The lights had been dimmed to allow the audience’s attention to focus on the stage, but through some inner eyes she could sense his every movement—the regular movement of his chest as he drew breath, the muscle working in his jaw…She tried to tell herself that she was being ridiculous, but unless Luca Barbaro had a doppelgänger in Venice, there was no mistaking the arrant masculine figure.

      It was her worst nightmare come true. It was also her moment of triumph, Nell told herself firmly. Each time one of her volunteers went into a hospital to speak up for anxious relatives, she thought of Luca Barbaro and the offhand way he had treated them—leaving her at the mercy of a security guard while Molly was taken away, refusing to give her any information about Molly’s condition…His lack of consideration was one of the prime drivers that had led her to expand the scheme—a fact she was sure he would be delighted to learn.

      Firming her jaw, Nell continued with her speech. There would have to be a meeting with Barbaro at some point, she knew that, but she had thought it would be conducted somewhere different, somewhere private—a sterile office, neutral territory, where she would lay her case before him with the same lack of passion he had displayed the first time they met. But for this one evening this hall was her territory, and the man in the shadows was a hostile and unwanted intruder who had chosen not to sit with the rest of the audience, but to remain leaning against the door with his arms folded across his chest as if to signify the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere. And even with a roomful of people between them she could sense his animosity.

      A frisson of alarm ran down Nell’s spine when he shifted position. He was even taller than she remembered, and the heat of his stare was drilling into her…

      She had stopped talking, Nell realised; everyone was waiting for her to continue. With a quick smile of reassurance, she started to wind up her speech. She couldn’t afford to lose her concentration now that she was about to throw the meeting open to questions.

      She had made sure that invitations had been delivered to every hospital and clinic in the area, not just the staff of this hospital in which she hoped to pilot the Venice scheme. The work of her volunteers depended upon the co-operation of the staff within each establishment…and that meant every single member of staff. Nell glanced again at the figure in the shadows, wondering what it would take to get Luca Barbaro on her side.

      She listened carefully to each question, judging the mood of the audience before she spoke. She had less to do at the sharp end these days than she would have liked, but she was a good speaker, and her role was to spread the scheme, recruit and train. It was up to her to convince the audience that the successful record of her project was something they wanted to buy into.

      For about a quarter of an hour things went really well. Nell was using an interpreter and the discussion so far had been good-humoured. It augured well for her pilot scheme. She was relieved to have found an answer to every question…relieved that the man in the shadows seemed to have disappeared.

      ‘Will you personally set up your project?’

      Every fibre in her body tensed. The voice, speaking English, was unmistakable.

      ‘Yes.’ Nell took a moment before saying anything more. Her breathing had turned instantly ragged, and she knew that her voice would be trembling when she spoke again if she didn’t pull herself together. The last thing she wanted was for Luca Barbaro to know how badly he affected her.

      ‘That’s right, I will be staying in Venice while we test the pilot scheme.’ She spoke firmly, scanning the room. But he had moved. The lights had been turned up for the questions, but she couldn’t spot him. ‘I always remain on call during the start-up period.’

      The interpreter began to translate, which gave Nell the chance to search for Luca.

      ‘So you’re going to be working in the hospital, supervising the scheme?’

      Nell ground her jaw. Why couldn’t she see him? ‘No, I’ll be off site. My job is to train—’

      ‘And to pass on your dislike and mistrust of the medical profession?’

      Nell froze. She wasn’t alone in that. Quite a few members of the audience had no trouble understanding English and she could hear a low rumble of surprise. When the interpreter translated Luca’s words into Italian the rumble grew.

      Everyone was waiting to see what she had to say in reply. She kept it light and friendly, even faintly indulgent, hoping to make it seem that she was dealing with an honest mistake, rather than a troublemaker. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re wrong, Dr…’ She waited for Luca to supply his name—to come out of the shadows and face her like a man.

      He chose not to.

      Resting her hands lightly on the podium, Nell smiled ruefully at her audience. ‘I couldn’t do the work I do if I held those views, could I?’

      ‘Really?’ he demanded, and she saw him.

      Luca Barbaro had moved into the centre aisle at the front of the stage in full view of everyone. ‘I’d like to know how you expect to foster good relations between medical professionals and your organisation,’ he went on, ‘when you are so clearly suspicious and biased against—’