Remo?Why did that name sound familiar? “Brother?” My scowl tightened. “Did you just threaten me?”
“Merely a word of caution. What you read into it, is entirely up to you.” He sounded amused, like he’d enjoyed watching his brother and I go toe to toe.
“Well, he can chase all he wants,” I scoffed. “The only thing he’ll catch is an asthma inhaler.”
He chuckled. “Such sweet brevity,tesoro, you even have my cock at attention. Good thing he’s taken.”
My jaw dropped. Although my recovery was quick, I remained internally stunned. I’d never met anyone so formidably open before. “And who the hell do you think you are?”
“Lorenzo Rossi,” he said calmly.
I tried to stifle my gasp. My widening eyes probably gave my shock away. A few days ago, during a break with some of the nurses, I’d heard them talking about the gorgeous Rossi brothers and their mafia reign. Officially recognized as legit business owners, of what, I had no idea, their unofficial status in murder, drugs and other criminal activities I chose not to think about, was widely known. Apparently, while they spared no prisoners if wronged, they cared for their people, especially Lorenzo, the older one.
The rumors surrounding the other brother, Remo and said asshole, had me promising the ladies to avoid him if I ever methim. Word was, he shot first and asked no questions of the corpse he left behind.
“Till we meet again—” Lorenzo glanced at my name tag, drawing my attention again. “—Dr Ishika Sharma.” Before I could respond, he walked away after a quick nod, the man standing next to him following.
“Ishika?” The soft tap on my arm had me turning. “Are you okay?” Maria, the receptionist, smiled at me. Still recovering from the effects of the men who just walked out of here, I nodded. “Where did you learn to fight like that?” Admiration sparkled in her eyes.
Laughing, I attempted to tidy the ponytail I’d felt loosen during my little stint of bravado, but the tie snapped in my hand and thick black curls bounced around my mid-back. About to ask Maria if she had a spare, several hospital staff and patients crowded me, cheering my bravery with smiles and claps. Embarrassed, I bowed my thanks then turned to Maria, answering her question.
“I took martial arts classes some time ago. Never finished my training, though and what you saw today is all I got. So, let’s just say, I’m glad those men didn’t come with reinforcements, else.” I squeezed my neck, making a face as if someone had just strangled me and laughed at her response.
“Ishika, Dr Carlo wants to see you?” I heard Stasia calling out behind me. Nodding at her, I glanced at Maria. “You don’t have a spare tie, do you? I’ll grab one from my locker later.”
“Here, take mine.” She pulled off hers, shoving it into my open palm.
Stasia gesturing for me to hurry, had me stuffing it into my coat pocket.
twenty-seven
. . .
Ishika– 31 years old
Dr Carlo Bianchi was the Chief Medical Office of Healing Heart Medicare, a private hospital in Salerno. His father opened the hospital decades ago and it grew into a family conglomerate with several hospitals in various countries. After his passing, Dr Carlo, his five brothers and two sisters, all in the medical field, ran the hospitals. Their personable character traits were well-known, bringing medical staff from all over the world keen to work and learn under their supervision.
I was twelve when I met Dr Carlo. With an entourage of doctors, he visited several schools speaking about the benefits of a medical degree. Part of the process required interested students to write an essay on a specific field of medicine. Hopeful, I submitted mine.
Impressed with my essay, he not only became my mentor throughout my studies, but he also adopted me. So technically, I grew up with two dads. Uncle Haru, my father’s brother and Dr. Carlo. As a result, I was given opportunities to accompany him to their various hospitals, strengthening my knowledge, andafter residency, I was guaranteed a position in a hospital of my choice.
Now, I knocked on Dr Carlo’s door and poked my head around the half open gap. “You called for me.”
He looked up, smiling. “Yes, love,” he replied, his thick British accent underpinned by his Italian heritage. “Come in.”
“How can I help?” I asked, entering.
Salt and pepper-streaked hair crowning sparkling green eyes, Dr Carlo was a handsome man the nurses called a silver fox. While I didn’t see him in that light, their undisguised body language never failed to amuse me when he appeared. Their filthy comments would make hospital hygienists cringe.
“My friend.” He tipped his chin toward his meeting room. Only then did I catch a quick glimpse of his pacing visitor who seemed to be on the phone. “He suffered an injury and needs treatment,” Dr Carlo continued, bringing my gaze back to him.
I frowned, certain I was a neurologist in training. “I doubt he’d still be standing and talking on his phone if it were a brain injury,” I quipped. He could easily send the man to one of the nurses down in ER if it were that urgent and they wouldn’t question his request.
Arms resting on his desk, Dr Carlo chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “His family does a lot for several communities, mine included that warrants certain leniencies. I turn a blind eye to their lifestyle and why special treatment by my star intern is necessary.” A hint of amusement lined his words when my disbelief became apparent. “Humor me?” He gave me that fatherly smile I doted on.
Biting back the need to ask for more details, I nodded. “Sure.”
My gaze shifted to the visitor the same time he cut the call and stepped out of the room. The blood drained from my faceas I tried to maintain my composure. Dr Carlo’s ears were too respectable to hear the words burning my tongue right now.
