Saving His Little Miracle. Jennifer Taylor
in sole charge of his affairs, it was unsettling to realise how tenuous his position actually was. Hopefully, a visit to the hospital would help to put some much-needed balance back into his life.
The familiar smell of antiseptic greeted him as he stepped out of the lift and he inhaled deeply. He had missed this. Missed the smell. Missed the buzz. Missed the adrenaline rush that came from saving lives under the most difficult of circumstances. Neurosurgery was one of the most demanding specialities. It needed strong nerves and steady hands and he possessed both—or he had done until the skiing accident that had partially severed one of the major nerves in his arm.
Vincenzo flexed his fingers as he opened the scrub-room door. Although he was ninety-nine per cent certain that he had regained full use of his hand, there was still that tiny doubt, that one per cent of uncertainty. Until he was completely confident about his prowess, he wouldn’t operate. He would use the time instead to sort out this business with Lowri and the baby.
Heat flowed through him at the thought of how he would like to sort it out and he paused, wanting to be in control when he saw his team. There was no point thinking that he would prefer it if they conceived this child the old-fashioned way; Lowri would never agree. However, he knew that it was one of the reasons why he hadn’t been able to sleep. Every time he had closed his eyes his mind had conjured up pictures of them together. Although he had tried not to think about that night they had slept together, the memories had obviously lodged in his brain and all it had needed was an excuse to unleash them.
A shudder passed through him as he suddenly found himself recalling how smooth and silky her skin had felt when he had run his hands over it and how firm her breasts had been as he had caressed them...
A burst of laughter issuing from behind the partly opened door brought him back to the present and he frowned. He couldn’t remember his team laughing like that; he would definitely have discouraged them if they had. He was about to enter the room and remonstrate with them when he heard someone speaking and recognised the voice as belonging to his second in command, Jack Wallace.
‘Now, now, settle down, guys. You know our beloved leader wouldn’t appreciate it if he thought we were having fun.’ Jack’s voice changed, his American drawl replaced by the parody of an Italian accent. ‘The work we do here is far too serious to joke about.’
More laughter greeted this. Vincenzo felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him when he realised that they were laughing at him rather than at Jack’s abysmal attempt to mimic him. He let the door swing shut, stunned that he should take any notice. What did it matter if he was a figure of fun? Why should he care if people thought he was too strict? He was a damned fine surgeon and he achieved the kind of results that most surgeons could only dream about. He didn’t need their approbation or their love!
Swinging round, he made for the lift. Five minutes later he was in his car and heading back to his apartment. He parked in the underground garage then took the lift to the penthouse and let himself in. It took a mere ten minutes to pack himself a bag and that was it.
Glancing around the elegant, designer-styled rooms, he gave a dismissive shrug. There was nothing here he needed, nothing that he would miss either. They were merely things, purchased to create the right impression. He had no emotional attachment to anything in the apartment. No emotional attachment to anything in his life, in fact, and all of a sudden he hated it. Hated the apartment, hated the way he lived, although he had no idea what he planned to do about it.
Vincenzo picked up his case and left. He was going to take the first step towards changing his life and simply see where it led him.
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