‘Every day for the past two weeks!’ His sister exploded into Italian. ‘Where have you been? You don’t call—you don’t come home! Have you forgotten your family? Don’t we matter to you any more? You don’t have a heart, Stefano!’
‘That’s the sort of comment I expect from my girlfriend, not my little sister.’ Stefano sprang from the car, his long, black, cashmere coat swirling around his strong legs as he strode across the consultants’ car park. Knowing exactly which buttons to press to annoy her, he smiled wickedly. ‘Why are you at home? You should be taking your children to school.’
Ever predictable, Isabella bristled with indignation. ‘I dropped them at school and now I’m on the way to the office. Remember the family business, Stefano? The business you turned your back on? Well I am here, keeping our father happy while you stroke your ego by playing doctors and dating actresses with bodies as thin as spaghetti and brains as soft as ravioli.’
Already bored with the conversation, Stefano pushed his way through the swing doors that led to the emergency department. ‘Are you ringing me to nag me about my choice of career or my choice of women?’
‘I’m ringing you because despite your many faults, you’re still my brother and like all men you need reminding about family responsibility. When did you last call Papa?’
Stefano strode along the corridor, oblivious to the sideways glances he received from the female nurses. ‘I don’t have any news.’
‘News? What is “news”?’ Isabella didn’t bother hiding her exasperation. ‘He just wants to hear your voice, Stefano!’
‘Talking about nothing because you enjoy the sound of your own voice is more of a girl thing than a man thing,’ Stefano drawled. ‘And I’ve been busy. I’m working.’
‘Well, find the time to call. And make sure you come home for Christmas. We’ll all be in Cortina from the twenty-third of December.’
Stefano was well able to picture the scene: a noisy group of family and old friends descending on the enormous family chalet in the exclusive mountain resort of Cortina D’Ampezzo, in the Italian Dolomites.
‘Isabella—’
‘I know you’re busy, but this is family time, Stefano. Be there.’
‘I will be there, but I don’t know when or for how long.’ Or how much of his well-meaning, interfering family he’d be able to stand.
‘All the cousins will be there—’ it was Isabella’s turn to tease ‘—including the lovely Donatella. She’s still single, Stefano.’
‘Fortunately for both of us, my taste in women doesn’t run to children,’ Stefano said wryly and Isabella giggled.
‘She’s twenty-one, Stefano, hardly a child. And she’s been trying to remind you of that fact for a few years now. Surely you haven’t forgotten last Christmas? The push-up bra and the low-cut top? I thought Papa was going to have a stroke. Anyway, she wants to sit by you for Christmas Eve dinner.’
‘Donatella finds me so intimidating that she can barely speak in my company,’ Stefano reminded her in an acid tone. ‘If you throw her in my way at Christmas it would be cruel to both of us. Isabella, drop this subject.’
‘She’d be a traditional Italian wife, Stefano.’ Isabella was clearly enjoying herself. ‘She would stay at home and cook you pasta.’
‘Unfortunately for Donatella one of my requirements in a life partner is that they’re able to sustain an intelligent conversation for at least eight seconds. Sadly, she can’t. Or at least, she can’t when she’s with me.’
Isabella snorted with laughter. ‘You’re so harsh. Frankly I can’t see why she’s so crazy about you. I mean, I know you’re filthy rich and good-looking but you’re unbearable to people who aren’t as bright as you are and when you’re really bored, which usually takes far less than eight seconds by the way, you can be horribly cutting.’
Taken aback by that blunt assessment of his attributes, Stefano was about to answer when his sister made an impatient sound.
‘Anyway, it’s nonsense to say you need a woman with a brain. According to that actress of yours, you don’t waste any time talking to women.’
Stefano glanced at his watch. ‘I’m a busy man, Isabella. Was there something else you wanted to say?’
‘She gave such an embarrassing interview to all the papers. What did you ever see in her? No—don’t answer that, it’s obvious. Why are men so shallow?’
Stefano gave a deadly smile. ‘Because women wear pushup bras and we are easily distracted,’ he purred. ‘I’m so pleased you called me. Your conversation is always so…intellectual.’
‘Don’t try and intimidate me.’ But Isabella was laughing. ‘I rang you for a chat because I love you, even though you sometimes forget that you have a family and you’re basically horrible. I’ll see you at Christmas, Stefano. I’m sure Donatella is already choosing her dress.’
Stefano closed his eyes briefly. ‘Maledizione—’
‘Don’t swear in front of your sister!’
There was a sharp rap on the door and Stefano looked up with a frown, irritated by the interruption. Greg Hampton, one of the casualty officers, stood in the doorway and Stefano’s mouth tightened. Unlike Phil who had managed to impress him, this particular junior doctor’s attitude was far too casual for his liking. ‘I’ve got to go. Ciao.’ He terminated the call and dropped his phone into his pocket. ‘Sì? There is a problem?’
‘Can you check an X-ray for me before you get dragged into Resus? Everyone else is still tied up with the RTA that came in an hour ago.’