“Give me one reason why I would even consider marrying you—”
“Well, most women start with my wallet,” he drawled softly, and she gave an incredulous laugh. In her opinion, all the money in the world wouldn’t compensate for being in a loveless marriage.
“I’m not interested in your money. Money doesn’t make a family happy,” she said. “It’s love and attention from parents that does that.”
“I agree,” he said confidently, his dark eyes fixed on her face. “And Rosa will have that. You cannot possibly be pretending that she won’t benefit from also living with her father.”
She could barely hide her frustration. “But we don’t love each other.”
He frowned impatiently. “I admire you professionally and I appreciate your deep love for Rosa. Mutual understanding is all we need. I don’t need you to love me.”
She looked at him helplessly. “And if I say no?”
SARAH MORGAN trained as a nurse and has since worked in a variety of health-related jobs. Married to a gorgeous businessman who still makes her knees knock, she spends most of her time trying to keep up with their two little boys, but manages to sneak off occasionally to indulge her passion for writing romance. Sarah loves outdoor life and is an enthusiastic skier and walker. Whatever she is doing, her head is always full of new characters, and she is addicted to happy endings.
The Italian Doctor’s Wife
Sarah Morgan
Mediterranean Doctors
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
PROLOGUE
DOMENICO SANTINI slammed open the door of the exclusive clinic, his sensual mouth set in a grim line. Every muscle in his body was tense, every nerve ending responding to the anger that simmered inside his powerful frame.
He strode across the elegant reception area towards his brother’s consulting room, totally oblivious to the rapt female attention which followed his progress.
Under strict instructions to allow no one to see the boss without an appointment, the receptionist half rose to her feet and then sat down again, her knees weak as she recognised the visitor. Even the threat of losing her job wouldn’t have given her the courage to try and stop Domenico Santini.
And he knew it.
The self-assured stride, the arrogant tilt of that dark head and the bored, slightly disdainful look on his sinfully handsome face were the mark of a man who knew that his authority wouldn’t be challenged.
He moved through the foyer with the lethal grace of a jungle cat, and the receptionist stared, feasting her eyes on the luxuriant black hair, the smouldering dark eyes and the muscular, athletic body.
The newspapers and gossip magazines didn’t do the man justice.
He was staggeringly good-looking.
Ferociously intelligent, monumentally rich and wickedly handsome, Domenico Santini was every woman’s fantasy.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ her fellow receptionist drawled softly, following the direction of her gaze. ‘He’s way out of your league.’
‘He’s stunning.’
‘He’s also dangerous,’ her friend muttered. ‘He’s a very famous heart surgeon, did you know that? Children’s heart surgeon. What a joke! The man must have broken as many hearts as he’s mended in his time. He only has to snap those clever fingers and women leap into his bed. Lucky them.’
It was a woman who was on Nico’s mind as he opened the door of his brother’s consulting room, pausing only long enough to check that he wasn’t with a patient.
‘I need to talk to you—’ His tone was curt and he spoke in Italian as the brothers always did when they were alone together.
Carlo Santini leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes watchful. ‘So—talk.’
Two years younger than Nico and generally considered to be the more approachable of the two brothers, he waved a hand towards a chair, but Nico ignored the gesture and instead opened his briefcase and retrieved a slim file which he tossed onto his brother’s desk.
‘Read that.’
Carlo stared at him for a long moment and then lowered his eyes to the file, opening it slowly and perusing the contents.
While he read, Nico paced across the room, his broad shoulders tense as he stared out of the window across the expensively manicured grounds of his brother’s clinic. Occasionally he glanced over his shoulder, his expression impatient as he waited for his brother to finish digesting the contents of the file.
‘So?’ Finally Carlo lowered the file. ‘This girl had donor insemination in my clinic.’ His tone was noticeably cool. ‘I don’t know why you have a file on her, but if you’ve come to me for more information then you’re going to be disappointed. You’re my brother and I love you, but I won’t discuss my patients with you.’
‘This isn’t a clinic matter, it’s a family matter.’ Nico’s black brows met in a frown. He’d expected Carlo to react to the name in the file but he’d forgotten just how many women trooped through his brother’s world-famous infertility clinic every year. ‘And I’m not asking you to break patient confidentiality. Look at the name again.’
‘Harrington. Abby Harrington—it doesn’t ring any bells.’ Carlo peered more closely at the photo. ‘I’ve definitely never seen her before. She’s gorgeous. There’s no way I would have forgotten a face and a body like that.’
‘Then let me jog your memory,’ Nico’s expression darkened. ‘She was Lucia’s friend at school. Remember the shy little mouse who we thought might have a stabilising influence on our dizzy sister?’
Carlo’s eyes narrowed. ‘Vaguely. What about her?’
‘And do you remember what happened two years ago?’ Nico’s tone was lethally soft. ‘Lucia came to me with a sob story about a friend who couldn’t have children.’
Carlo frowned.
