The Italian Doctor's Mistress. Catherine Spencer
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just like her mother.
To have come so close to personal tragedy again was more than he could handle, and in an effort to divert himself from the unthinkable, he seized on a triviality. “What the devil are you talking about, man?” he demanded, filled with sudden, irrational fury. “My daughter has no American woman friend.”
The officer consulted his notes again. “She and the woman were seen talking together, Doctor, and gave every appearance of knowing one another. Two witnesses saw your daughter cross the street and greet her. In any event, there’s no doubt that even if she’s a stranger, you owe the girl’s life to this person.”
“Then I shall make a point of thanking her, provided she has a good reason for luring my child into danger in the first place—something I highly doubt she can justify.” Jamming his hands in his pockets to hide their trembling, he turned to leave.
“One more thing, Dr. Rossi. At the very least, the driver of the car will stand accused of speeding and reckless endangerment, but he could well be facing other penalties.”
“You can depend on it,” Carlo told him curtly. “If you don’t press charges, I most certainly will.”
“I daresay the American agrees with you. For that reason, I’d like to speak with her before I leave.”
“I have no idea if she’s up to answering questions, but I’ll find out.”
Still shaking inside, he took a moment to compose himself before returning to the Emergency Unit. A windowed alcove to one side of the bank of elevators gave him the privacy he sought and hid him from view of anyone passing back and forth in the main hall. Certainly the two young nurses leaving for a coffee break were unaware that the subject of their gossip overheard their every word.
“Couldn’t believe what I was seeing and hearing!” one of them said breathlessly. “I mean, I know the boss is famous for keeping his cool in the face of just about anything anyone throws at him, but to be so unmoved when it’s his own daughter lying there! I feel sorry for her, poor little thing. My God, can you imagine having a father like that?”
“Are you kidding? He intimidates the living daylights out of me at the best of times, but I’ve always respected him. Put him on a pedestal, the way everybody else around here does. What we witnessed just now, though—that business about the socks being dirty—well, it was creepy! I bet if he were cut open, we’d find ice water in his veins! I feel…I don’t know…betrayed, somehow.”
“Most people do when the people they idolize turn out to have feet of clay,” Carlo said, stepping forward just as the elevator doors swished open. “That’s why it’s a mistake to turn ordinary men into gods. Enjoy your coffee break, ladies.”
He didn’t wait for their stammered apologies, or pay attention to their horrified, red-faced embarrassment. He had enough to contend with. His professional demeanor rigidly in place once more, he swept past them and back into the Emergency Unit just as Anita was wheeled in from Radiology.
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