Page 43 of Fierce Protector

The surgical floor is always quieter at night. No visitors and far fewer staff. I always prefer it this way, no one stopping to talk, boring me with their banal existences, or asking me for patient updates. The last thing I want to do right now is chat with anyone.

Every imbecile in the hospital is gossiping about their engagement. It’s all they can talk about. How happy they are for Doctor Mancini. What a charming man her fiancé is. Every time I’m forced to listen to another platitude of simpering congratulations, it makes me want to bury a surgical scalpel in his chest.

This ishisfault.

Stefano Tiero. The walking cliché. The criminal in the tailored suit. I knew what he was the first time I saw him. He’s a predator, hidden behind a veneer of respectability. I’m done waiting for her and I refuse to allow trash like him to keep on touching what’s mine.

He was all over her at the gala. Everylingering touch and longing gaze made my skin crawl. But it doesn’t matter. She’ll find out who she belongs to soon enough.

As I turn the corner, I come face to face with my second least favourite person. That pathetic excuse for a man who thought he was good enough formydoctor. Nurse Costello.

Another man who’s not worthy of the air she breathes. The pathetic little man-child who only got this job because his daddy was on the board. Everything about him makes my blood boil. The affable pretty boy. A vapid little prick with the intelligence of an amoeba.

I dismiss his muttered apologies, shoving the cart he’s pushing out of my way and storming off down the corridor. I try to calm myself, yet every time I think of him on a date with my Katerina, my temper flares. I can practically hear the rage thundering in my ears.

By the time I reach the doctors' lounge, I know exactly what my next step is. She doesn’t realise the depth of my devotion to her. But I’ll show her. I’ll make her see.

I’m done waiting for her to accept that she’s always been mine.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

KATERINA

THREE WEEKS LATER…

I’m jolted awake by the sharp tug of the drapes and a blinding light carving its beams through the bedroom.

“What kind of monster wakes their girlfriend up by blinding them?” I mutter, throwing my forearm over my eyes to block the offending light.

“The kind that needed to give you a present before he leaves for his meeting with his boss,” comes his smooth response.

“I’m not accepting anything from you until you apologise,” I huff. We may be in the middle of a minor disagreement. One where I’m right and he’s entirely in the wrong.

“I’m not apologising for doingmy job,micetta.” His voice is laced with an air of frustration. I push myself up and throw the full weight of my glare at him.

“I don’t want you to apologise for doing your fucking job. I want you to apologise for me not being the first person you called when you were fucking injured,” I scream at him, suddenly wide awake and bristling with the anger that lay dormant while I slept. He flinches and I’m glad because he fucking should. He should be sorry. I should have been the first damn person to know and I sure as shit shouldn’t have found out after the fact. “And because you should have come straight to the hospital to get checked out, you stubborn fucking asshole.”

The last few weeks have been absolute chaos, and yet again made my wannabe stalker seem like a cheap imitation of true danger in the grand scheme of things. Aurora was able to take down her husband. Max De Luca is dead and his organisation has been decimated but the cost was almost too high, and I could easily have lost a man that I’ve spent years waiting for.

“I was fine. It was only a concussion.”

“Are you a doctor? Did you spend years in training?”

“No, but I’ve been cracked over the head before, and I was fine.”

“You were unconscious for fuck-knows how long. And aside from that, you should have called your fucking girlfriend to tell her you were okay.” My words start to run together into an angry, garbled mess until I find myself panting and struggling to calm myself down. “You could have fucking died. And I wouldn’t have known. No one knew to tell me because as far as they’re concerned, I’m nothing to you.”

I cast my eyes up to his and catch the moment of realisation as it settles in his chest. He crosses the room and takes a seat on the bed, taking my hands in his and pulling me towards him. I pull back, too angry to be comforted, but he ignores my protests and drags me onto his lap.

I turn my head and struggle, trying to wriggle away, but he’s having none of it, gripping my hips, pinning me as I straddle his thigh.

“Stay still dammit. You’re right,” he growls, and I stop straining against his hold, letting out a frustrated breath.

“Go on,” I say, arching a brow before crossing my arms in front of me.

“We’ve done all this backwards, and I made a mistake when I didn’t tell you I was injured. In my defence, you needed to focus on saving Benedict at the time. It’s?—”

“This doesn’t sound like an apology, Tiero. This sounds like an excuse,” I interrupt.

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