Invitation to Italian

“I understand, but rest assured.”

There was a knock. His office door swung open.

He narrowed his eyes, hesitated, then focused his attention again on Iris. “Trust me. Nothing’s wrong.”

A sarcastic laugh from across the room mocked his statement. “Well, you might not be able to think of anything wrong, but believe me, I can tell you more than a thing or two!” the irate female voice announced.

Sebastiano stood up. He buttoned the middle button of his charcoal-gray suit jacket. “Mrs. Phox…Iris…excuse this unexpected interruption. I’m not sure if you’ve met one of our obstetricians?”

Iris leaned around the side of the wing chair to get a view of the intruder. “Ah, Julie, my dear, so good to see you again. I was just speaking of you this morning.”

CHAPTER THREE

“DR. ANTONELLI. I WAS unaware we had an appointment.” Sebastiano stood stiffly. He shot the cuffs of his starched white shirt and straightened his sterling silver cuff links.

If he had wanted to appear more intimidating, it would have been difficult to say just how, Julie observed. Well, he could grow four more inches, she thought with a certain amount of self-satisfaction. She was six foot one in her stocking feet. Right now she had on clogs, her usual footwear for surgery, and she topped him by a good three inches.

It was a silly sense of superiority, but she’d take it. Because frankly, Dr. Sebastiano Fonterra scared her witless.

True, the old CEO of the hospital had never been her favorite person. He hadn’t seemed to be the brightest bulb, but he had been approachable, always appearing open to suggestions even when he didn’t have the least intention of following through on those suggestions. Still, he listened.

Sebastiano Fonterra was anything but approachable. He was aloof, often arrogant and, even more maddening, sexy as hell.

There was something about that voice of his—the faint Italian accent to an otherwise flawless command of English. The vowels were more distinct. The enunciation a little crisper. He simply didn’t have the lazy lips of American speakers. Although her female colleagues didn’t normally bring up the topic of enunciation when it came to discussing them.

Still, when she’d come storming in, dressed in her operating scrubs and minus a shower, enunciation had been the furthest thing from her mind. Not that her mind was functioning all that well after having been awake for more than twenty-four hours.

Julie slowly pulled off the blue cotton cap left over from surgery. Her short dark hair was matted to her forehead.

“Dr. Antonelli, I’m waiting,” Sebastiano said again.

Sebastiano might look gorgeous and wield more than a fair share of authority at the hospital, but she refused to be intimidated.

Iris Phox was a completely different matter.

Nevertheless, this was too important for Julie to back down now. “I have something that couldn’t wait.” She took a step forward, positioning herself to the right of Iris, who was sitting in the high-backed chair and within easy spitting distance of Sebastiano. Julie leaned forward and braced her hands on his desk. Spitting from this distance would be a slam dunk.

“I’ve just come from an emergency cesarean on a patient who had seized out from eclampsia.” Through her peripheral vision, she could see Iris’s blinking stare of fascination, but Julie narrowed her eyes and focused on the man across the desk.

“The mother made it?” he asked, still standing. There was no emotion in his voice.

“Yes.”

“And the baby?”

“Underweight and with a low Apgar score, but she’ll pull through.”

“I presume this came as an emergency room admit?” Sebastiano said.

Julie nodded.

“Then you are to be commended. They were lucky that you were on call.”

“This is not about me. This is about the fact that she had never received any prenatal checkups simply because the clinic is not open long enough during the day,” Julie decried in frustration. She threw up her hands…and bumped the glass vase. Before Julie could react, it skittered off the desk and seemed to hang suspended until it fell on the rug, thumped loudly, then bounced twice more. There was an ominous clink as it landed against the metal heater vent.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.” Julie rushed to retrieve the vase. She brought it back to the desk, wincing when she noticed a visible chip in the rim. “Please, I will gladly replace it.”

“You can’t. It’s a one-of-a-kind piece.” Sebastiano spoke so quietly it was clear he was seething internally.

Julie put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no. I suppose it had sentimental value, too?” What a total screwup, she thought.

“It was a gift upon my acceptance of my position here at the hospital.”

“Oh…” Julie’s voice trailed off.

“Never mind the vase,” Iris said behind her. Julie turned.

Sebastiano glanced at Iris. “As a board member, I’m sure you’re well aware of its value.”

“I never cared for it. If it had been left to me, I never would have chosen it. Black and orange may be the colors of Grantham University, but I always found the piece somewhat garish. I’ll make sure we give you something more suitable to replace it—a simple Paul Revere-style silver bowl.”

“You’re too kind,” he said. That didn’t stop him from glaring at Julie. “But that still doesn’t eclipse Dr. Antonelli’s carelessness.”

“Let’s move on for now,” Iris ordered, ignoring the obvious tension in the room. She turned to Julie. “I’m curious as to your comment about the clinic,” she said. “I wasn’t aware there was a problem.”

“With all due respect to Dr. Antonelli, if I may?” He measured his words.

Julie crossed her arms. She tapped her fingers on her elbows. She didn’t like being preempted.

Sebastiano forged ahead. “With all due respect, the clinic is open three days a week and one evening, more than the state mandates. Moreover, the hospital maintains these hours despite the cuts in government spending.” He waited, looked at Iris, then back at Julie.

She wasn’t ready to give up yet. She raised her hand.

“Which way are you aiming this time?” he asked, jutting his chin out.

Julie paused. She knew just where she’d aim. But she didn’t. Instead, she clenched her jaw. “I realize the hospital is trying to do its part for the community—but it’s simply not good enough. Here we live in one of the richest towns in the country, and we still find expectant mothers risking death due to inadequate medical care. Do we really want it written on our tombstones that we exceeded state mandates? Wouldn’t we rather be known as the local hospital that did everything it possibly could?”

Sebastiano lowered his eyes to the blotter of his desk. He lined up his Montblanc pen exactly in the middle, parallel to the horizontal edges. “You know there are proper channels for lodging a complaint about hospital policies.” He lifted his head and focused on Julie. “An unannounced visit to my office while I am discussing business with the head of the board is not one of them.” He didn’t threaten.

He didn’t need to.

Julie wet her lips and realized that some of her fury was starting to seep away. Maybe it was all the hours with no sleep. Maybe it was the thought that she could lose her privileges at the hospital. And then maybe it was staring into Sebastiano Fonterra’s disturbing deep-brown eyes that finally took the wind out of her sails.

She had felt she was right to barge in when she did. Maybe that was the problem. Too much emotion, not enough strategy. When would she ever learn?

Julie held up her hand. “You’re right. I apologize. To you and to Mrs. Phox.”

Iris nodded in acceptance. In fact, she seemed to have an amused look on her face. “No need to apologize, dear.”