A Million Different Ways (Horn Duet 1)

My knees turned liquid, strength deserting me. “Does it say who specifically sent the money?”

The woman typed something into her computer. “It came from a personal account…Sebastian Horn.” Her eyes widened, then her gaze returned to me with a newfound alertness. Suddenly, she smiled. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss Sava?” she asked sweetly.

Wow, that was a rude awakening. I went from annoying nuisance, to Miss Sava in the span of time it took her to read a name. She handed me the cash I had requested. “No, thank you,” I answered, absently.

I walked back to the Mercedes on autopilot, still processing the information. A hundred thousand euros. Impossible man. And sighed. I knew what was coming next––another argument. Knowing him well enough by now, he would rather burn it than let me return it. I stepped into the Mercedes and texted him.

‘Do you have a moment to talk?’ Bling.

‘Always, for you.’ Bling.

My heart beat rapidly as I dialed his number. “Darling.”

“Umm, I like the sound of that.”

“You won’t like the sound of this. I just went to my bank.”

Silence. Here we go, I thought.

“There will be no discussion about this. I want you to go shopping. Tell them I’ll call with my credit card if it’s not enough,” he said in his most ‘your Highness’ voice.

Not enough??? “Sebastian, I…”

“I don’t give a shit if you burn it in a bonfire. It’s yours. Don’t push me. I’ll talk to you after your appointment.”

CLICK. He even hung up angry.

Well, just as expected. Bear looked into the rear view mirror and smirked. I had forgotten that he could hear everything. How embarrassing.

“Dropped call,” I lied, my cheeks as pink as an English rose no doubt. He responded with a short nod and smiled.

* * *

I sat in the waiting room with my nose buried in an Italian translation of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ I had borrowed from the library. I liked reading in different languages. It kept my language skills sharp and I found it entertaining how different cultures translated the subtle nuances in the classics.

I quick inventory of the room spoke volumes about Dr. Maria Rossetti. The oak floor was old but scrubbed clean, the walls were freshly painted but unadorned, and the reception area modest. The patients, old and young, were poor. With the list of commendations and awards this woman received, she could have easily set up a slick, expensive office off the Rue du Rhone. Instead, she had chosen to use her considerable talents to help the most needy.

A baby’s hysterical shrieks drew my attention to the far end of the waiting room. The child looked to be around two. Her face was ruddy, tear streaked, and a single tooth was visible in her wailing mouth as she bounced on her exasperated mother’s lap. Her mother was young, no older than eighteen, too young. She was losing her patience with the baby, seemed close to tears herself. I heard the mother pleading with the child in a language I couldn’t understand. Portuguese, I think. I was about to go over to them and offer some assistance when a nurse appeared in the doorway and called my name. I followed her to an examination room where she left me to change into a gown.

Dr. Rossetti knocked before entering. A handsome woman with thick lips, wavy mahogany hair, and hazel eyes that tilted up at the ends, she wore her age with grace. Early fifties, I estimated.

“Miss Sava, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Maria Rossetti.” She smiled pleasantly while she studied my chart. “Sei Albanese?” she asked in Italian.

“Yes, I’m Albanian,” I replied, in the same language.

“Your Italian is impeccable. You sound like a real Milanese.”

“I lived there for six years. I studied medicine at University of Milan.”

Her shapely, dark eyebrows rose. “Did you graduate?”

“With honors.”

“Congratulations.” She smiled warmly as she put on a pair of surgical gloves. “Are we doing a full physical today?”

“Yes. I’m interested in getting on birth control, but I’ve also been feeling tired and weak lately.”

“Let’s weigh you first.”

I was surprised to learn that I had gained six pounds. I knew the rawboned look was gone. However, six pounds for me was like a normal human gaining twice that amount. She took my temperature, my blood pressure, and ran other diagnostic tests before she pulled blood. I was getting dressed, zipping up my skirt, when she stepped back into the examination room.

“Here’s a prescription for the pill,” she said, handing it to me. “Don’t start taking it until I call you with the lab results, just to be safe. It shouldn’t take more than a day.”

“Of course, and the lethargy?”

“Doesn’t seem to be bacterial, but I’ll get a better idea once we get the test results. It could be a degree of anemia.” I nodded. I had considered that as well. “Where are you doing your residency?”