‘I don’t normally eat breakfast,’ she said, with a wave of her hand.
Those green eyes connected with his. Wow. His breath caught somewhere at the back of his throat.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Hasn’t anyone told you it’s the most important meal of the day?’
He liked her. She was sassy. In a good way. He’d had that feeling last night when they’d talked on the phone.
She rolled her eyes, but stood up when he gestured to the door.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘Let’s start the way we mean to continue. Let me take you for a traditional Italian breakfast.’
* * *
This was all going so wrong. All the way over on her comfortable flight she’d thought about that smooth voice on the phone. She hadn’t let herself do an internet search for Giovanni Lombardi because she was hoping her fears wouldn’t be answered. But here he was in the flesh. Mr Italian Gorgeousness. Ugh.
His broad shoulders and tailored suit, along with those dark flashing brown eyes and his easy manner, made him a combination of every Italian dreamboat she’d ever seen on screen. Even down to the short moustache and beard that didn’t really resemble a beard. More like four or five days of deliberate not shaving. Italian men knew how to wear facial hair in such a sexy way...
This was so not what she needed right now. This was a career-making case. The last thing she wanted was any distractions.
She gulped. This was verging on a disaster for her, and her brain didn’t normally have such thoughts. Less than twenty-four hours ago she’d been sitting at her friend’s wedding with Louis by her side. They might have parted ways amicably, but in her head she’d believed she wouldn’t even contemplate looking at another guy for months—at least not deliberately.
This surgery was far too important to allow herself to be distracted by anything—least of all thoughts about men. Long-term relationships had never been on her agenda. The example of her parents had planted that seed in her head a long time ago. Her mother had been a brilliant physicist. Her father an esteemed professor of history. Neither of them had seemed interested in parenting.
She wasn’t quite sure how she and her brother had actually got into this world. It was as if academia had told her parents they should have a couple of kids, and so they’d dutifully ticked that box. But with an entire childhood of being pushed towards perfection, control and study, she’d never really learned to play, let alone love. Whilst other friends had considered marriage and a family, Autumn had never contemplated that for herself. She hadn’t allowed herself to.
Her career focus was all-consuming. The last thing she wanted was a husband and children. It had always been clear to her that her parents had never achieved a balance between career and family life. She didn’t want to be the same. So a husband and children were off the table, and every single thing about Giovanni Lombardi was sending her into panic mode.
She hadn’t been joking when she’d said he’d had her at hello. That voice just sent electricity dancing over her skin. How could she do this job without a) looking at him, or b) listening to him? Switching off her senses seemed to be the only way to go, because he just oozed magnetism in a way it would be hard to ignore.
She couldn’t remember ever having a reaction to a man like this.
And that was entirely the problem.
She stood, following him as he gestured with his hand that they were to leave his office. Her brain tried to stay entirely focused on work. The hospital seemed impressive. On the outside, it looked like any grand old Italian building. But the inside was more akin to some kind of spaceship. The credentials she’d read on the website certainly showed that St Nicolino’s had all the facilities she could need for this surgery and this case.
Giovanni tried to make small talk as they walked the long corridors. She was hoping he would take her to the impersonal hospital canteen—but, no, he ushered her out through the main door and into a large four-by-four. Her eyes noticed the child booster seat in the back.
Moments later the car stopped outside a small café on the outskirts of Rome. The traffic had been heavy, but Giovanni had woven the large vehicle down narrow streets that had made her hold her breath.
Before she had a chance to think, he was out of the car and opening up the door for her. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘My favourite place for breakfast.’
Autumn was interested. It wasn’t flash, or chic. It looked exactly what it was: a small business in amongst a hundred others.
He put his fingers to his lips. ‘Best coffee and best maritozzo in Rome.’
He kissed his fingers and blew into the air and she laughed out loud. ‘Best what?’
He guided her inside, towards a glass cabinet stocked with food. ‘Or, if you prefer, you can have a croissant, a bombolone, or biscottate.’
She was here for four months. She didn’t doubt she’d try them all. ‘I’ll have what you’re having,’ she said. It seemed the simplest solution.
He nodded, and spoke in rapid Italian to the woman behind the counter. Listening to him talk his own language was magical. It took her a few moments to realise he was speaking to her again, asking her how she preferred her coffee.
A few minutes later they were sitting at a table outside. ‘Your bags?’ asked Giovanni. ‘You have others?’
Autumn wrinkled her brow. ‘I dropped them at my hotel on my way to the hospital.’
She could almost see his sigh of relief. He seemed to settle back into the slightly uncomfortable metal chair. She tried to hide her smile as she looked at the food on the table in front of her. Had he really thought she’d arrived with no luggage?
‘You didn’t want to catch a few hours’ sleep or freshen up before coming to the hospital?’ he asked, and then he seemed to realise how those words might sound and gave a slightly unnerved laugh. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.’
Autumn looked down at her old but still presentable clothes. They weren’t rumpled. She gave him a direct stare. ‘I showered on the plane and changed before I disembarked.’
There. Let him think that one over.
She could see the question form in his brain, but it never left his lips. What kind of plane has a shower?
‘Actually,’ she said as she took a sip of her coffee—caffe macchiato, coffee with a drop of milk, ‘because you caught me at short notice, half my wardrobe was out of my reach. I might need you to get someone to direct me to a few places in Rome where I can pick up some more clothes.’
Now he looked even more surprised. ‘You don’t need someone else. I can do that.’ He waved his hand easily.
‘You shop for women’s clothes?’ she asked.
Autumn was staring at the maritozzo on the plate in front of her. It had turned out to be an Italian sweet pastry stuffed with cream and likely a million calories. There was no way she could eat that without getting it all over her.
Giovanni handed her a large cloth napkin as he tucked one into his shirt collar. He gave a careless shrug. ‘All Italian men know where to shop,’ he said simply.
She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, and then she remembered the booster seat in the car. Her eyes went automatically to his left hand. No wedding ring was there.
But, like herself, Giovanni was a surgeon. There was a good chance he didn’t wear a wedding ring. When scrubbing was a part of daily life, jewellery became a nuisance.
‘I noticed the car seat,’ she said, trying to say it as casually as possible. ‘Do you have children?’
His eyes met hers and she would have sworn she saw them light up right before her.
He beamed. ‘A daughter—Sofia. She’s five and the light of my life.’
Everything about him changed in an instant. The tone of his voice, the relaxation of his shoulders. She’d thought he’d seemed quite easy around her already, but there was a visible difference
now.
‘Tell me about her.’
Autumn knew people. She’d been a doctor for years. This was a fellow surgeon she’d have to work alongside. It was essential that she knew what was important to him, and Sofia clearly was.
‘She’s fantastic. I may be biased, but I don’t care. She’s smart, but she likes to pretend she’s not. She’s already told me that being a surgeon is too boring and she plans to be an astronaut. She’s always trying to learn something new, but...’ He paused for a second. ‘I imagine she’ll do something completely different.’
‘Why?’
Autumn was curious. She didn’t have much experience with kids. Babies, yes. But, as sad as it sounded, when babies were in the neonatal unit there was a certain element of control. They could be monitored carefully, their medication adjusted. Comfort given. Feeding regimes measured as much as possible.
Of course things did sometimes go wrong, but with babies in one place and under her guidance she generally felt she could do as much as possible for the tiny, gorgeous, helpless little people. Once they got a bit older, and could move, walk, run, eat anything they found, they generally became the biggest safety hazard around and a heart attack waiting to happen. No. The complete randomness and unpredictability of them terrified her. So, she was interested. Could a parent really predict what their child might do when it was only aged five?
‘She’s a people person. Like a moth to a flame. Sofia loves people. All kinds of people—everywhere. I’ve never gone to a place with Sofia where she hasn’t found a person to talk to. And she talks to them because she’s interested. She wants to know everything about them.’
He gave a shrug.
‘She’s too young to realise just how important that is.’ A frown creased his brow for a second. ‘She’s intuitive too. Seconds after she meets someone, she’ll tell me if she likes them or not. At first, I used to laugh it off. Because we all do that. We all form first impressions. But...’ He breathed out slowly. ‘There have been a couple of occasions when she’s been right and I’ve been wrong.’ His dark eyes met Autumn’s. ‘Let’s just say I’ve learned to pay attention.’
A car’s horn sounded right next to them and they both jumped. Autumn squeezed the pastry she’d just lifted, causing a large dollop of cream to land on the plate. A moped darted between two cars, narrowly missing a pedestrian.
The traffic here was crazy. Thank goodness she’d made the decision not to drive. But the hotel she was staying at was a little way from the hospital. She’d have to ask Giovanni about public transport.
She toyed with the idea of sweeping up the piece of cream with her finger, but decided it was too impolite. Even though she’d never eaten something like this for breakfast before, her stomach was starting to rumble in anticipation.
‘It sounds like you have a great relationship with your daughter,’ she said.
‘Of course—it’s just me and her.’
He said the words simply, and she realised he’d probably had to say them a hundred times before.
She didn’t need to ask. His wife hadn’t left him. She knew that instantly.
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Giovanni. But I’m sure Sofia has everything she needs in her obviously doting dad.’
He gave a sigh and leaned back in the chair. He glanced at the roads around them, wincing as a few more scooters seemed to take risky chances.
He lowered his voice. ‘My wife died just before Sofia’s first birthday. She was travelling to the hospital for an emergency. She was on a scooter and she was hit by a speeding driver.’
Autumn shivered. She couldn’t help it. There had already been several near misses in the time they’d sat here. And the incident he’d just described... Things like that terrified her. Random, no reason, no control. She hated everything about those elements of the world outside her control.
As a medical student she’d taken some anti-anxiety medication for a time, and seen a counsellor to help her accept that there would always be things out of her control. It had taken four years, but she’d gradually accepted that. However, as soon as the counsellor had dug a little deeper about her feelings, repressed emotions and her upbringing, Autumn had stopped attending. She’d got what she needed to be able to function well enough in life.
But hearing stories like this always made her feel slightly panicky. One person’s actions—a foot just a bit too heavy on the accelerator—had changed Giovanni and his daughter’s life for ever. She’d always wondered how people coped after something like that.
‘You must miss her.’ It seemed the most obvious thing to say, and she didn’t want him to see the tiny shake of her hands.
He gave a sad smile, his eyes looking a little darker than before. ‘I’m sad that she’s lost her part in Sofia’s life. They were so alike. I think Anna would have got great joy from watching her grow every day. I also think they might have argued constantly...’
The smile grew warmer. He could obviously see them both in his head. But then he lifted his gaze again.
‘But we can’t live in the past. I have a duty to help Sofia live every day to the full. We talk about Anna, and I show her pictures, but I make sure her life is full of joy.’
Autumn could feel herself blinking back tears. Wow. This was the last thing she’d expected. But part of her was glad. She was glad she hadn’t made a blunder and asked Giovanni about his wife. She was also glad that Giovanni was in a position where he felt as if he could share. He seemed sad, but not grief-stricken. A tiny, selfish part of her knew that meant he would be able to focus completely on their case.
As she watched Giovanni, he started to eat his pastry. He had the cloth napkin perfectly placed to catch any errant blobs of cream. It appeared he was an expert at maritozzo-eating. She took a few nervous bites herself, the burst of sweetness on her lips giving her an instant sugar rush.
She laughed. ‘This can so not become a habit. Between the coffee and the sugar this morning, I will probably be jittery all day. Not to mention the pounds I could gain.’
He seemed back to his easy self, and the momentary shadows she’d seen flicker across his eyes had now vanished.
She glanced over at him, talking more before she thought. ‘There’s no way you do this every day!’
There wasn’t a pick of fat on him. He was lean, but in a muscular kind of way. It was visible through his suit jacket, and the wicked smile he gave her in response made heat rush to her cheeks.
‘Oh, sorry. That didn’t quite come out how it should have.’
But now there was a cheeky glint in his eye, and she had to admit that she liked it.
‘Maybe it came out exactly like it should have.’ Giovanni glanced at his watch. ‘Perhaps we should get back and I can give you the tour. Then we can get down to work.’
Autumn dabbed at the edge of her mouth with the napkin, praying she wasn’t going back to her new place of work with cream on her face.
They jumped back in the car and Giovanni wove his way back to St Nicolino’s.
Walking through the hospital with Giovanni was an enlightening experience. Everyone stopped to talk to him. She smiled as she remembered what he’d said about his daughter. Did he really not realise where she got her ‘people person’ traits from?
Giovanni reminded her of a paediatrician she’d worked with when she was a student. Dr Blair had remembered the name of every patient he’d ever seen. He’d been a wonderful mentor, and she’d lost hours of her life waiting while random strangers stopped him in the street, thanking him for looking after a relative years before. He’d remembered every case.
Walking with Giovanni was like walking the streets of her home town back in Scotland with Dr Blair.
She’d heard a mixture of languages around her. She had been slightly worried, coming to Italy. Italian wasn’t exactly a second language for her, although she could get by. But since se
tting foot in this hospital she had found most of the staff spoke English to her. It was a relief, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t still make an effort to speak Italian.
St Nicolino’s was a state-of-the-art hospital, and the sprawling tour wasn’t for the faint-hearted. She saw the wards and ICU, and the operating theatre complex, where Giovanni reassured her that her surgical privileges had been put in place for her. Then they toured the X-ray department, and met the sonogram and radiology staff. He showed her the changing facilities, the offices, where he introduced her to the admin assistants, then the overnight rooms and canteen facilities.
Then he led her down a quieter corridor and threw open the door to a wide room. ‘This is where we’ll spend most of our time.’
She blinked for a moment, trying to take in the sight in front of her. It was clearly a training room—a room where doctors at all stages of their career could practise and hone their clinical skills. She’d been in many rooms like this over the course of her career. But none had been quite like this one.
This room was full of tiny 3D-printed mannequins. Perfectly made tiny babies, all anatomically correct, and all at various points in surgery.
She frowned as she turned to Giovanni. ‘You practise every surgery?’
Cost. That was the first thing that flew into her head. She’d often asked for a specific 3D mannequin to be built, to allow her to practise a surgery that she hadn’t performed before. She knew exactly how much each of them would cost. But right now, the fact that here she’d have the chance to practice surgeries again and again was making her smile from ear to ear.
She’d methodically ticked off all the people she’d met and the places she’d been today on a list in her head. There were still a few key staff and facilities she’d have to discover. But this room... There was a real danger this would distract her completely.
Giovanni nodded. ‘We have our own design team and 3D printing capabilities. They have already made mannequins of the Bianchi twins that Lizzy and Leon can practise on. The truth is, we don’t know exactly when we might have to operate on these babies. We have to be prepared at any point in time. And, as you’ll know, size plays a huge factor in these surgeries. Of course,’ he continued, ‘I hope we have many more weeks to prepare. But our team are performing weekly sonograms, and every time they do another, our modellers make us 3D mannequins of the twins. Sometimes multiple mannequins. The surgery that you and I will perform will be very different from the surgery Leon and Lizzy will likely have to do.’
Reawakened by the Italian Surgeon Page 3