‘She’d be a traditional Italian wife, Stefano.’ Isabella was clearly enjoying herself. ‘She would stay at home and cook you pasta.’
‘Unfortunately for Donatella one of my requirements in a life partner is that they’re able to sustain an intelligent conversation for at least eight seconds. Sadly, she can’t. Or at least, she can’t when she’s with me.’
Isabella snorted with laughter. ‘You’re so harsh. Frankly I can’t see why she’s so crazy about you. I mean, I know you’re filthy rich and good-looking but you’re unbearable to people who aren’t as bright as you are and when you’re really bored, which usually takes far less than eight seconds by the way, you can be horribly cutting.’
Taken aback by that blunt assessment of his attributes, Stefano was about to answer when his sister made an impatient sound.
‘Anyway, it’s nonsense to say you need a woman with a brain. According to that actress of yours, you don’t waste any time talking to women.’
Stefano glanced at his watch. ‘I’m a busy man, Isabella. Was there something else you wanted to say?’
‘She gave such an embarrassing interview to all the papers. What did you ever see in her? No—don’t answer that, it’s obvious. Why are men so shallow?’
Stefano gave a deadly smile. ‘Because women wear pushup bras and we are easily distracted,’ he purred. ‘I’m so pleased you called me. Your conversation is always so…intellectual.’
‘Don’t try and intimidate me.’ But Isabella was laughing. ‘I rang you for a chat because I love you, even though you sometimes forget that you have a family and you’re basically horrible. I’ll see you at Christmas, Stefano. I’m sure Donatella is already choosing her dress.’
Stefano closed his eyes briefly. ‘Maledizione—’
‘Don’t swear in front of your sister!’
There was a sharp rap on the door and Stefano looked up with a frown, irritated by the interruption. Greg Hampton, one of the casualty officers, stood in the doorway and Stefano’s mouth tightened. Unlike Phil who had managed to impress him, this particular junior doctor’s attitude was far too casual for his liking. ‘I’ve got to go. Ciao.’ He terminated the call and dropped his phone into his pocket. ‘Sì? There is a problem?’
‘Can you check an X-ray for me before you get dragged into Resus? Everyone else is still tied up with the RTA that came in an hour ago.’
Stefano slung his coat over the back of the chair, ignored the mound of paperwork on his desk and strode towards the door. ‘Who is the patient?’
‘That’s the bad news.’ Greg pulled a face. ‘A screaming, uncooperative kid with a bruised finger. I sent her for an X-ray.’
Stefano dealt him a measuring glance, less than impressed by the younger doctor’s dismissive tone.
They arrived at the main area and Stefano automatically glanced at the computer screen on the wall. It listed every patient in the department and enabled the staff to track their progress. That one glance was enough to tell him that he was in for a busy morning despite the fact it was barely light.
His mind still half on the conversation with his sister, his gaze shifted to the smaller computer next to the screen that was displaying an X-ray of a finger. He hit a button, zoomed in closer and stared at the image. Why did his family see the need to interfere with his life? If it wasn’t his love life, it was his profession. ‘No fracture. How was the finger on examination?’
Greg shrugged. ‘I haven’t examined her yet.’
‘You sent her for X-ray without examination?’ Stefano transferred his gaze from the X-ray to the doctor and Greg frowned slightly.
‘The child was really difficult. Didn’t seem to want to be distracted by anything. Trust me—no one could have done anything with this kid, and as for the mother…’ with an exaggerated shudder, he picked up the notes ‘…she was your average nightmare. Reminded me why I didn’t do paediatrics. Caring for kids is all about the mothers, isn’t it? What’s the point of seven years’ training if I have to waste my skills on a load of hysterical women?’
‘What skills?’ Stefano spoke softly and Greg’s smile lost a fraction of its arrogance.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You told me that you don’t want to waste your skills,’ Stefano said silkily, ‘but I am still waiting to see a demonstration of these skills in which you have so much pride and which you seem so reluctant to waste in my department, Dr Hampton. They weren’t in evidence when you needed to examine the child.’
Greg cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t manage to examine the child.’
‘Precisely.’ Stefano watched with cold detachment as the less experienced doctor flushed to the roots of his hair, suddenly a great deal less sure of himself.
‘The kid was freaking out.’
‘Then it is your job to “un”-freak them,’ Stefano advised helpfully. ‘After all, what is the point of seven years of training if you cannot get close enough to your patient to carry out an examination?’
‘I ordered an X-ray,’ Greg said stiffly, and Stefano raised an eyebrow.
‘So you sent her to X-Ray with no examination and you were planning to discharge her without examination? You have good medical defence insurance, I hope? A skilled lawyer? Because if that is the way you practise medicine, you will need both.’
Greg’s face was scarlet. ‘I assumed that the X-ray would tell me what I needed to know.’
‘An X-ray is simply one part of the overall picture. Never again even consider discharging a patient without carrying out the appropriate examination. You are a doctor, not a car mechanic. The decisions you make affect people’s lives.’ Stefano let the doctor squirm for a few more moments and then he flicked off the X-ray.
‘Mr Lucarelli—’
‘One more thing.’ Stefano’s icy tone cut through the doctor’s feeble attempt to redeem himself. ‘In this department, if a mother tells you that she has a bad feeling about her child, you will listen to what she has to say with both ears open and your mouth closed. Understood?’
Greg stared at him. ‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ Stefano watched him with cool appraisal. ‘Most mothers are uncannily accurate when it comes to assessing the health of their children. Remember that. They sense things that we doctors, even with years of training, can take longer to detect. Now, given that you have been unable to examine the patient, show me where she is and I will do it for you.’
Stiff and defensive, the casualty officer led the way down the corridor and into one of the small cubicles.
Prepared to deal with a very distressed child, Stefano stopped dead in the doorway, astonished to see the little girl laughing and smiling.
Liv was kneeling on the floor, chatting away happily and the child sat listening, clearly absorbed by the conversation. Her eyes were fixed on the nurse in fascination and Stefano found himself reacting in much the same way.
From his vantage point in the doorway, his gaze was drawn to the curve of her soft mouth and suddenly he found himself comparing the sweetness of her smile to Francine’s sexy scarlet pout.
Surprised by the direction of his thoughts, Stefano wondered why he was comparing two women who were so blatantly unalike.
Francine was an actress and a model—her looks were part of her job. Whereas Liv—well, she was entirely different. She wasn’t beautiful in the conventional sense. Her mouth was too wide and she had a pronounced dimple in her left cheek when she smiled, but there was something about her face that made it