Page 3 of The Doctor

Paulo’s lips quirked up as he lifted his chin. It made me feel like I was a kid again, being chastised by the man who took over the Syndicate my father had given his life for. “Ever the impatient one.”

I bristled under his stare, though rather than acting upon my impulses, I tossed back my drink and set my glass down on the table next to his decanter.

“Have a seat,” Paulo told me, gesturing with his glass toward one armchair as he backed toward another. “We’re still waiting on—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to. The man we were waiting on was in the hall, his loud voice preceding him before he reached the room.

“The man of the hour,” Adalberto Vinci said, his gaze sweeping me briefly before locking on D’Angelo. “Good to see you again, Paulo.”

It wasn’t until Vinci stepped between me and the table to shake Paulo’s hand that I realized, it wasn’t only him we’d been waiting on. Daphne gave me a tight smile that lasted a half-second longer than Berto’s once-over.

“Zeno.” Vinci looked down his nose at me, and where I’d felt chastised when Paulo had basically done the same thing earlier, now I felt cast aside, like I was nothing more than the help. “Always a pleasure.”

I accepted his extended hand, thankful that the sweat that had pooled on my palms in Clara’s presence had dried up before I touched her father. “Likewise,” I responded, though it was anything but the truth.

Berto was a good twelve years older than me, and he’d always rubbed it in my face that he and Paulo had been fast friends. As if that had anything to do with anything. As if age could determine rank or the depth of friendship.

As if it made a difference in the amount of loyalty one had.

“Daphne.” Berto’s voice snapped like a whip, and his wife rushed behind my chair to Paulo’s side. She kissed his cheeks, clutched his hands like he was saving her from a thousand-foot drop, then scooted around his chair to take a seat on the couch beside her husband.

The woman could barely look at me. Nearly twenty years had passed since she’d spared me more than the slightest glance. It was something I would have loved to rub in Berto’s face if I ever stooped to his level or played his games.

The man in question crossed his legs, then stretched his arms out across the back of the couch, tugging Miss Prim-and-Proper an inch closer like he was staking his claim.

As if I’d want her.

As if either Paulo or I had any desire to take the woman he loved away from his side.

“Zeno,” Paulo said, turning his attention to me. “I’ve called you here tonight because Berto and Daphne have asked me for help with Clara.”

Outwardly, I stilled, though inside my chest, a storm raged. “What about her?”

“We need your help.” Still stretched out across the couch, the man looked like he needed nothing but a good kick in the ass. “Clara is… out of control.”

Beside him, Daphne made a pained sound and looked toward the empty fireplace.

“What do you mean, ‘out of control?’”

He heaved a heavy breath, and I swore he rolled his eyes. “Her grades are slipping. She’s more interested in partying than in studying, and we fear she’s going to ruin her life before it even gets started.”

“Then tell her to reign it in,” I offered, as if I had any right to be doling out parental advice. Me, a man who’d sworn off relationships and family in order to devote my life to Paulo and the Syndicate.

“We’ve tried. Believe me, we’ve tried.”

Daphne turned from the fireplace, and for the first time since I’d knelt between her legs in the back seat of Berto’s car, pulling a tiny baby girl from her womb nineteen years ago, she locked eyes with me for more than the briefest of seconds. “You’re the only one she listens to, Zeno. You’re the only hope we have.”

“You’ve got some connection with her. Something no one else has. And we need you to use that to get her back on track.”

“The hell are you talking about?” The words rasped out of my throat, dragging their fucking feet across the dry desert of my tongue.

“It’s true, Zeno,” Paulo said, sticking his fucking nose where it didn’t belong. “I’ve seen it myself. Clara listens to you. She looks up to you. And I believe you have what she needs to get her life back on track.”

Shaking my head, I pushed myself deeper into my chair. “No. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I believe I do, actually.” He looked down his fucking nose at me again. “Clara needs you, Zeno. She needs your guiding hand in her life. She’s expressed interest in becoming a doctor in the past, and I believe she can succeed in that if given the chance. I’d like you to mentor her. She can be your apprentice. You can help her with her studies, teach her the kinds of things she won’t learn out of a book or in a classroom. Help her reach her full potential. Show her the world she’d never see otherwise.”

Fuck.