Prognosis Baby Daddy: A hot medical romance

by Amy Andrews

  ‘I need a couple of thousand. I’m a little behind on the rent and I’ve just got the second notice from the electric company.’

  The figure didn’t even make Katya blink. Was it a new dress or a pair of shoes or a new man that had taken precedence over the rent and electricity? Katya sighed. ‘Mama...’

  ‘Please, Katya. It’s expensive with four teenagers. And if you ever bothered to come home instead of tripping around the world, you’d know that.’

  Katya gripped the telephone receiver and bit her tongue, the unfairness of her mother’s statement stinging. Like she’d been on a continuous Contiki tour! She’d been working her butt off in some of the world’s hotspots so she could support her mother and four siblings.

  She knew how expensive it was, damn it - she’d been practically supporting the entire family since she’d started work.

  ‘If it’s too much for you maybe you can ask your rich count for a loan?’

  ‘Mama!’ Katya gasped.

  Was her mother serious? She’d known the minute she’d told her mother that she knew a Count and was going to Italy to work for him in the world-famous Lucia Clinic that she’d said the wrong thing. But her mother had been persistent in wanting to know why she was leaving MedSurg and a steady source of income and Katya certainly wasn’t about to tell her about the baby.

  And, just for once, she’d wanted for her mother to be impressed. Proud even. But, as usual, her mother didn’t fail to disappoint her.

  ‘Don’t be so shocked, Katya. You always were so high and mighty.’

  ‘Well, somebody had to be, Mama.’

  As soon as the words were out, Katya regretted them. Not because they were wrong but because she knew what was coming next. Katya held the phone and listened while her mother gave her the usual hard-luck story. How hard her life had been with five children and no man about the house. How she’d done the best she could with what she had. What an ungrateful daughter she was.

  And then the real prize. ‘You think you’re better than me? Don’t forget, if it wasn’t for you, Katya, Sophia wouldn’t be so horribly disfigured.’

  No matter how many times she prepared herself for it, how many times she heard it, it still rocked her to the core. The angry little girl inside who had lost her childhood to her mother’s reproductive irresponsibility clawed and begged and screamed to retaliate. To respond with righteous indignation.

  But the guilt - the guilt her mother knew how to manipulate so well - paralysed the words, froze them in her throat, every time. She looked up and saw Ben watching her. ‘I’ll send the money, Mama,’ Katya said, her voice shaky, her hands trembling as she cast her eyes downwards again.

  ‘Good girl.’

  No ‘thank you’. No apologies for asking or pretense that this was the last time.

  ‘You know, Katya,’ Olgah continued, ‘if you played your cards right, were nice to your boss, he might...I know from the magazines he’s a terrible playboy but he might like a nice little Russian girl. We’d never have to worry about money again.’

  Olgah was so matter-of-fact that Katya felt physically ill. As an emotion so vile injected its poison through Katya’s body, she realised for the first time, that she hated her mother. There had been plenty of times growing up — home alone, trying to raise her four siblings while her mother was god knew where —when she had felt rage and fury and frustration towards her.

  But this?

  Suggesting first that she go to Ben for money and then that she ingratiate herself to ensure a lifetime of financial security for her family? This was truly corrupt, even for her mother. It became imperative to Katya right then and there that her mother never find out that the baby she was carrying was the heir to the Medici fortune.

  ‘You owe it to Sophia to at least try, Katya.’

  Katya gasped. The unfairness of her mother’s words raged inside her but the overwhelming impotence she had felt from childhood neutralised her rage, her hate. It didn’t seem to matter how far away she got from Moscow, her mother’s ability to reach across the world and tap into her childhood psyche was astounding.

  ‘Goodbye, Mama,’ Katya said, swallowing hard as a rush of bile rose in her throat.

  Katya replaced the phone, cutting off her mother’s reply. She felt dead inside. Damn her mother. Damn her to hell. When she turned she found Ben watching her.

  ‘Everything OK, cara?’ he asked softly.

  Katya could see the concern in the depths of his eyes. She knew he had gleaned enough from the one-sided Russian conversation to know that it hadn’t been a happy family reunion. His kindness was unbearable when she felt so raw inside.

  She shook her head. ‘Mothers.’ She gave him a half-smile. He chuckled and Katya knew he was waiting for her to elaborate. To say more. But...she couldn’t.

  If she’d needed to escape the theatre before the phone call, it was an absolute necessity now. ‘See you after lunch,’ she said and fled the room not waiting for a response.

  Ben kicked at the aged paving stones of the Piazza Duomo. He scanned the outdoor cafés thronged with locals and tourists alike in the glorious sunshine, hoping to see Katya sitting at one of them. Gabriella had told him she was coming here and it was only the lunch-break so she couldn’t have got too far. Katya had covered well but he could tell that the phone call from her mother had upset her. He couldn’t explain why he felt the need, but he wanted to check if she was OK. He remembered the look they’d exchanged in Lupi’s doorway that morning, like she could see all was not well with him, and he wanted her to know that he was sensitive to her emotional state as well.

  He decided to do a circuit. The day was nice, the sun beating down, and it felt good to be outdoors. He dodged some young boys kicking a soccer ball around the massive square, his mind preoccupied with Katya’s phone call.

  It was obvious that Katya had been arguing with her mother and even more obvious from her tone and her body language that she hadn’t been happy about talking to her mother in the first place.

  But she had.

  And that was something Ben understood all too well. Doing something against your will for the sake of family.

  Family responsibility.

  The Duomo’s bell marked the hour with its deep chiming and brought him out of his thoughts. His eyes scanned the crowds and inside the different ceramic and tourist shops that bordered the square. Just as he was about to give up, he saw her inside the cameo shop.

  He entered, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim light. Katya was talking to a shop assistant, her back bent over the glass-topped counter, a cameo laid out on black velvet before her. She was wearing a gypsy-style skirt and a form-fitting short-sleeved T-shirt that emphasised the petiteness of her frame and the bony ridge of her spine.

  Giovanna, the shop assistant, raised her eyes to his and instantly straightened. There weren’t too many locals in Ravello who didn’t know Count Medici on sight! He held his finger up to his mouth in a shushing motion and smiled.

  She returned the smile and Ben saw the invitation in her eyes and wished he didn’t feel complete disinterest. Fuck’s sake ...What the hell was the matter with him? Giovanna was a very attractive woman and he hadn’t been with anyone since before he’d met Katya.

  ‘It’s so beautiful,’ Katya sighed, unaware of Ben’s presence. ‘My grandmother had one very similar to this.’

  Katya touched the chalky-white surface of the burnished orange cameo. It depicted a curly haired woman in profile, with bare shoulders and a strange, sad kind of smile. She remembered stroking her grandmother’s as a child. There weren’t that many memories that she recalled fondly but her grandmother starred in every one.

  Looking at the beautiful oval cameo and recalling the wonderful times it evoked was like a soothing balm after the vileness of her mother’s phone call. She remembered being held to the old woman’s ample bosom, the cameo sitting snugly in her grandmother’s cleavage, and she remembered feeling safe there. Feeling loved.


  She’d been seven when her grandmother had passed away and she still recalled how devastated she’d been. Almost as devastated as the day Olgah had taken the cameo and pawned it. Katya had begged her mother not to, had clung to Olgah’s leg as she’d tried to get out the door. But it hadn’t stopped her. Katya remembered to this day how bleak and impotent she had felt as her mother had shut the door in her face.

  If only she still had the cameo today, she knew what she’d do with it. She would leave it here with Ben, as a parting gift for her child. Something to connect the baby with its mother. And maybe her child could draw comfort from it over the years, as she would have done. Know, hopefully, that Katya loved him or her.

  Loved her child enough to give it the best life possible.

  Ben could see Katya in profile and watched the flicker of emotions play across her face. His breath caught. He’d never seen her look so vulnerable. He could see fondness and happiness and regret mingling in her slight Mona Lisa smile. She looked wistful and sad and very, very young.

  He’d never truly realised how shuttered, how in control she was until he’d seen her like this. She looked vulnerable, uncertain for the first time since he’d known her. Like he was seeing the real Katya, the one beneath the bluster and the barbs.

  Not even on that magical night that they’d shared had he seen her like this. What had made her the Katya she was today? The practical, tough, no-nonsense façade she hid behind. What had happened to this Katya, the one bent over the cameo, to make her seem so hard? Had that phone call had something to do with it?

  Ben was intrigued as never before. Whatever the reasons, seeing her like this made him want to see more. This soft, female Katya was appealing on levels he’d never known existed. It made him want to make her happy. Put a smile on her face. Not a small sad little smile, but a big beaming one. He wanted to see her glow. And the way she was looking at that cameo, he knew just how to achieve it.

  ‘We’ll take it, thanks, Giovanna,’ Ben said, striding over to the counter and winking at the shop assistant.

  He saw Katya’s back stiffen and she turned around slowly. She gave him a look that left him in doubt he was not welcome in the shop — very different to the warm, flirty welcome Giovanna had given him.

  Why the hell did that do more for him than Giovanna’s blatantly sexual smile?

  ‘No, we won’t,’ Katya said, placing a stilling hand on Giovanna’s, not taking her gaze off Ben.

  ‘You like it.’ Ben shrugged. ‘Consider it a gift.’

  Katya shook her head. How many men had given her mother gifts? Seduced her into neglecting her children? Her mother’s words rang in her ears — if you played your cards right we’d never have to worry about money again. She felt bile rise in her again. She would not stoop to her mother’s level. She’d never taken anything from a man and she wasn’t about to start.

  ‘I don’t take gifts from men,’ she said emphatically.

  Ben blinked. She was angry with him — that was obvious. Her eyes glittered and her mouth flattened into a thin line. Not the usual reaction he got when offering to buy women jewellery. He sensed he needed to tread carefully. ‘It obviously means a lot to you,’ he said softly.

  ‘It’s eight hundred euros,’ Katya said, her voice blunt, her tone unmoved.

  ‘Money is not an issue, cara,’ he said, smiling gently, still hopeful of breaking through to her, the girl he’d caught a glimpse of. ‘Can you wrap it for me?’ he asked Giovanna.

  ‘No. Do not wrap it,’ Katya said, giving a severe look at the shop assistant. She would rather take cyanide than accept this from Ben. She was raw on the inside from her mother’s barbs and his persistence was rubbing salt into the exposed flesh.

  ‘And do not call me darling,’ she snapped, and stormed out of the shop.

  ‘Katya.’

  She heard him calling her name but she was too angry to stop. Visions of the trinkets her mother’s suitors had bought her flashed before her eyes. She remembered how exhausted she’d been each night, looking after four little ones while her mother had been out. She remembered Sophia dreadful inconsolable screams as the fire had scorched her skin. They reverberated around her head as she hurried away, they followed her now as they had haunted her for so many years.

  She could hear her breath coming in short sharp gasps as she remembered the horror of that day and the crippling panic that had gripped her as her eleven-year-old brain had struggled with the enormity of what had happened. Images she’d thought she’d conquered a long time ago bombarded her as she walked blindly through the piazza, Ben’s voice following her.

  ‘Katya.’ He caught up, grabbing her arm and halting her.

  ‘Let go of me,’ she yelled, blinking back tears she hadn’t even known had formed.

  Ben held onto her shoulders as she struggled against him. Something was really wrong, she was really upset. He’d never seen her tearful. ‘Hey, hey, what’s wrong? I’m sorry, OK? You seemed so taken with it. Don’t worry about it, it’s no big deal.’

  She moved close to him, her heart hammering, her chest heaving. ‘It is to me,’ she said, her voice steely.

  She saw the confusion and concern on his face. She could tell he was puzzled by her reaction. Hell, she was puzzled by it. One phone call from her mother and she was eleven years old again! But this was important.

  Ben was relieved that she’d stopped trying to resist but he could still feel the tension in her shoulders. His fingers gently massaged the flesh coaxing her to relax. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly.

  ‘I can buy my own jewellry.’

  He nodded at her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. He watched her watch him, her gaze assessing, as if she was searching for the truth in his statement. And then he felt her finally let go and her shoulders sagged against his hands.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

  Ben gave her a tender smile as piazza life careened all around them. The sun beat down, locals strolled, tourists snapped photos and shopkeepers touted for trade, but they were oblivious, locked in their own little bubble.

  He pulled her gently towards him, half expecting her to resist, but she went without argument and he tucked her against him. She felt good against him - too good - and he wished for a moment that he hadn’t done it. But instinct told him it was the right thing to do.

  Katya Petrova was a complicated woman. A deceptive woman. There were layers beneath her prickly surface that obviously ran deep. Holding her close, his heart thudding loudly in his ears, he realised he wanted to explore them. To understand what made her tick, what had made her the woman she was today. What had happened to cause such a meltdown just now? Would she let him in and why did he suddenly care so much?

  Katya breathed deeply, inhaling his scent. He smelt like man, like Ben, and she remembered vividly how good it was to be held intimately by him. It was crazy, she couldn’t buy into it, but for this moment, as her heartbeat settled down again, it was heavenly.

  Soon she would have to pull away and repair the damage she’d done with her little performance. God knew what he thought. And she was going to have to tell him about the baby. Not right now, but soon.

  She didn’t want to leave it for weeks and weeks now she’d made up her mind. He had a right to know and as soon as she told him, there wouldn’t be anything to hide from him anymore. She didn’t believe in deception, had seen way too much of it growing up, and he couldn’t accuse her of a hidden agenda once the truth was out.

  ‘We’d better get back,’ Katya said, breaking the embrace.

  They both turned towards the clinic and began to make their way in its direction.

  ‘You want to come with me to my villa this weekend?’ Ben asked. ‘We can go out on The Mermaid.’

  She looked at him. He had just handed her a golden opportunity. She nodded. ‘Yes, thanks. Sounds like fun.’

  So...tomorrow. It was set. She’d tell him about the baby tomorrow. And tonight she’d try and find the right words to delive
r the shocking news.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  KATYA was awake early, having spent a night rehearsing the words she was going to use. She had a speech prepared and she hoped it was impassioned enough for him to understand that her motives were pure. That she was doing what she was doing for the sake of their baby.

  She had no idea how he was going to react, none at all, and thinking about it, trying to second-guess it, was driving her crazy. Katya decided to get up and dressed and go and sit in the garden for a while. She doubted whether her thoughts would be any clearer, but at least she could stare at the Med rather than four walls.

  The weather was beautiful outside and Katya could see it was going to be another gorgeous September day. She had a brown sundress on with shoestring straps, and she revelled in the early kiss of the sun on her practically bare shoulders. She could so get used to living here.

  Biting into the plump flesh of a peach, Katya wandered around, trying to settle the nausea that had plagued her the minute she’d stood up. She hoped it wasn’t going to be a bad morning-sickness day. If she was going to go on Ben’s boat, the last thing she needed was a queasy stomach.

  The gardens really were magnificent. She had spent most of her lunch hours outside, eating with the other nurses who chose a different terraced level each day to spread out on and soak up some sun. A lot of their patients also ventured out into the gardens and Katya liked the continuity of it all. So different from MedSurg.

  She could hear the trickle of water and wondered if the fountains ran continuously or whether they were on timers. It felt good to be thinking inane things. Her mind had been preoccupied all night with such serious matters. Coming outside, had been a good idea.

  Even high in the hills Katya could see the sun sparkling off the sapphire-blue Med and she drew a deep breath of clean air into her lungs. The beauty was distracting and she sat on a wrought-iron garden chair and soaked it in, her eyes shut, her face tipped towards the early morning sun.

  ‘Penny for them.’

  Katya opened her eyes to find Ben looking down at her and her heart skipped a beat. He looked so fresh and rested. His hair was damp and curling over his collar at the nape. The words she’d rehearsed all night spun around in her head. ‘Good morning,’ she said, in what she hoped sounded like a normal voice.