Page 14 of Fierce Protector

He leans in and kisses my forehead, and I sigh. I can’t figure out if he genuinely wants to comfort me or if he’s simply putting on a show for our audience. I turn to check if we’re still being watched and my heart sinks when I clock the gaggle of nurses still looking our way.

“Well, then. See that you do. I have a consult to get to,” I say, but just as I’m about to leave, Doctor Jenkins approaches us. Fighting the urge to roll my eyes athaving to deal with him, I conjure up my best adoring girlfriend smile and lean in to kiss Stefano’s cheek. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

Stefano’s eyes close, and I let myself believe for a second that he’s savouring my closeness and not putting on a show.

I really have to stop letting my emotions trick me into thinking he wants more. This is a ruse and nothing more. Whatever I thought was happening all those weeks ago at his house were nothing more than heightened emotions after a bad day, and I’m an idiot if I keep hoping for more. I’m too old to be clinging to dreams I should have forgotten long ago.

“If it isn’t the happy couple,” Doctor Jenkins says with a sneer. There’s very little you can find appealing about Dylan Jenkins, and his perpetual look of disgust only makes him less attractive. Some doctors have a way of carrying their god complex with an air of confidence that can almost make you forgive their complete lack of personality or compassion. Doctor Jenkins has no such talent. “Anyone would think he didn’t trust you, Doctor Mancini, bearing in mind how frequently we see him here these days.”

“He’s here visiting a family friend,” I reply. My words are polite enough, but his blatant disrespect for Stefano has my hackles up and ensures my tone is laced with as much disdain as I can get away with. It makes my skin crawl that a man so obnoxious sees himself as better than Stefano Tiero. Like his overblown ego in any way compares to the power the Bianchi consigliere wields. Stefano could destroy him. Literally and figuratively. Theidea of Stefano crushing him shouldn’t turn me on, but we’ve already established my feelings for him are less than healthy.

A satisfied smile takes over me and I lean into Stefano, wrapping my hands around his waist possessively. “Seeing him every day only reminds me how lucky I am to have him.”

“Since you’re inseparable, I assume I’ll be seeing you both at the charity gala next month,” he retorts with a slight curl in his lip, doing nothing to hide his disapproval. I can’t tell if he’s judging us because of the age gap, or because he’s judged Stefano as somehow beneath him. Either way I don’t like it, and I can feel my blood starting to boil.Who does this sanctimonious prick think he is?

As if he can sense my slow burning rage, Stefano steps in. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to spend an evening with my Katerina.”

The glint in his eyes tells me that Stefano is enjoying baiting him and I revel when I catch the flare of anger bloom in Doctor Jenkins’ expression. His eyes darken as the smug expression slips from his features and is replaced by a scornful glare. He quickly recovers, his uncomfortable smile returning as he shifts his focus back to me. “How… romantic. I must say, he brings out qualities in you no one here thought you were capable of.”

Every word out of his mouth makes me want to ram my fist so far into his face he’ll be swallowing teeth. I’m about to tell him where he can shove his observations of my character when there’s a firm squeeze on my hip and the warmth of Stefano’spalm centres me.

“Anyone who claims to know a woman based on the way she presents herself in a professional setting is a fool. The only person who truly knows a woman is the one she gives her heart to.”

My eyebrows end up somewhere around my hairline at Stefano’s words and Doctor Jenkins lets out a sound like a cat choking on a hairball. My shoulders give away the giggle I’m trying to silence, which only angers him further.

“If you’ll excuse us, Doctor Jenkins,” I say, before turning and pulling Stefano away with me.

When he’s out of earshot, I mutter, “Narcissistic twat.”

“Of the highest order,” Stefano adds.

“Sorry about that. He’s not normally so blatant in his assholery.”

“Katerina, don’t apologise for the shortcomings of men.” His words once again take me aback, and I don’t miss the satisfied smirk on his face, like he enjoyed ruffling Doctor Jenkin’s feathers. I nod my agreement as he bends to kiss my cheek goodbye. “I need to head up to speak with Aurora.”

I’m trying desperately to ignore the blush flourishing across my face from the heated gazes of the nurses. I know they’re not watching me anymore though. They’re doing exactly the same as me. Watching Stefano’s fine ass as it saunters away towards the elevators.

Snapping myself out of it, I turn in time to catch them all looking and raise a judgemental brow at them. They avert their eyes when they realise they’ve beenbusted ogling ‘my man’ and scatter, waddling off like startled geese.

I can’t suppress my smile and head towards the OR for my next surgery. The sooner I’m in scrubs and focussed on scalpels and sutures, the better. I need a healthy dose of reality to combat my Stefano-related daydreams.

After four hoursin the OR and then nearly as many reviewing charts, it’s almost midnight when I pull into my driveway. I’m dead on my feet, and so distracted scrambling around in the bottom of my bag for my keys that I nearly trip over the long white box wrapped in a matching satin ribbon.

I gaze down at the box, confused, since I haven’t ordered anything and I rarely have things delivered to my home anyway because of the hours I work. I turn to open my door, throw what I’m carrying in a heap just inside, and bend to retrieve the gift. The box is ridiculously oversized, so I have to cock my hip to shut the front door and balance somewhat precariously while I kick off my shoes. I head straight for the kitchen, and lay it out on the countertop and stare down at the gift.

I don’t like the look of it at all. It’s pristine and stark and its size makes it mildly disconcerting. It screams ostentatious twat. There’s a dull ache in the pit of my stomach and it takes a moment for me to admit to myself that it’s dread.

It’s been quiet for weeks on the old unwanted attentionfront. The notes in my lockers stopped, and for the most part, swapping my shifts around has limited my contact with Danny. He got the hint—or so I thought.

I really don’t like the idea that he’s now sending me things to my house. It feels like far more of an invasion of privacy. I’m not sure exactly why, but homebody Katerina is very different from general surgeon Doctor Mancini, or mob doctor Doc Em, and she likes to hang up her work life at the door.

I take a step back from the counter and find myself talking out loud, “If I have to deal with this, there’s no way I’m doing it without wine.”

After digging out my favourite glass from the dishwasher, I head to the pantry to dig out a bottle. I settle on an Argentinian Malbec taking it back through to the kitchen.

I glare at the gift-box, wishing it would just disappear. I consider ignoring it and heading straight up to bed, but the sooner I know what this is, the sooner I can toss it in the trash.

Opening the bottle, I pour out a more than generous glass and take a long sip, savouring the bold flavour. It’s one of my favourite little rituals, especially after a stretch of back-to-back shifts. Although usually I would be curling up on my sofa under a blanket with a book by now.

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