Page 6 of Fierce Protector

“The fuck you will,” I growl, my hand shooting out and gripping her jaw tightly. “If you think I’m lettinganyone else handle this little weasel, you have another thing coming, Katerina.”

“You’re too easy, Stefano,” she says with a wicked grin, and I’m so far beyond screwed.

I release my grip and drop my hand, closing my eyes tightly.Thou shalt not discipline your best friend’s bratty daughter.“And you’re too tempting, Katerina. There’s only so far you can push me before I break.” I may have walked away from this temptation before, but I don’t know if I can keep doing it. My thoughts oscillate between right and wrong, and for the first time, I wonder if my friendship with her father is worth the sacrifice I keep making by not making Katerina mine.

She taps her palm on my cheek before saying, “I’m counting on it.”

I turn away from her, desperate to get out of this house, stalking out of the front door, slamming it as I go. My heart races, doing nothing to ease the yearning ache that’s been caged there for so long.

Katerina Mancini doesn’t realise what she’s started.

CHAPTER FOUR

KATERINA

I’m not entirely sure what line we just crossed, but I know we crossed one and I pushed us over it. I did not have ‘suggest fake dating to my dad’s oldest friend’ on my bingo card for this year.Shit. What have I done?

I’ve wanted this man for longer than I care to admit, and he’s never shown the slightest hint of attraction sincethatnight. In return, I’ve done a spectacular job of avoiding him for the past few years. The last time we spent more than thirty minutes in each other’s company was at Aurora’s wedding, and look how that ended.

I close my eyes tight, trying to block out the memories of my spectacularly poor life choices that evening. Just a few of the many reasons I avoid Stefano… and kamikaze shooters. In my defence, he kissed me back… before rejecting me, leaving me devastated and fleeing the scene of my humiliation. That’s a hangover I’m still recovering from four years later, and just his presence is bringing every detail of that ravenous kiss flooding back.

A kiss he’s never even mentioned since. He’s made it perfectly clear that I’m nothing more than Dante’s daughter. A member of the family. An obligation.

So why the fuck was he acting like a possessive alphahole from the minute he stepped through my front door tonight? His behaviour is like an earthquake, shifting the ground beneath my feet, making it impossible to know what’s real.

Technically, this is all his fault. As soon as I felt his hands on me, something in my physiology rewrote itself, and I knew I’d do anything to keep his eyes on mine. He looked like he wanted to devour me. The heat of his gaze, his touch, his overwhelming presence, sent flurries of goosebumps roaming across my skin. It was as torturous as it was hot as hell.

I wander back towards the kitchen and tidy away our glasses into the dishwasher, pausing to enjoy the scent of the amber liquid in his glass. It’s an oaky aged malt with undertones of ginger that warm my nose as I inhale the remnants. It’s been in my drinks cabinet for years. I maintain it’s for when my dad visits, but deep down I’ve always known it’s a lie. It’s as much Stefano’s favourite as it is my father’s. However, keeping a $400 bottle of whiskey stocked for a man who, until now, had never stepped foot in my house would be crazy.

I grab my glass, pour myself a finger of it and head up the stairs.

When I reach my bedroom, I put my drink down and strip, tossing my clothes at the hamper and missing. Ileave them where they fall and wonder if Stefano was here would he straighten them up like he did my hallway? I didn’t miss that he’d put away my shoes and hung up my bag. It should irk me that he felt the need to tidymythings inmyhouse, but it doesn’t.

I’ve never wanted or needed anyone to take care of me, but when I think about Stefano taking care of me, it wouldn’t be something I minded.At all.

Sitting at my dresser, I start my skincare routine. I’m not one to waste my time with endless lotions and potions, but as a woman in my thirties, not using the basics is foolish. Not to mention, these are the few moments each day where I get to look after myself. This and when I manage to grab some time in my home gym. What with my shifts at the hospital and my second job patching up the Cosa Nostra’s stab wounds and bullet holes, it feels like I don’t get a moment to myself these days.

When I’m finished with the face cream, I take a swig of my drink, enjoying the sensation as the whiskey warms me from the inside out. Then, reaching for the rose quartz gua sha, I revel in the contrasting temperature as I run its cool surface over my skin, massaging out the tension of the day. I have no idea what I’m doing or if there’s any benefit to it, but I just enjoy how it feels, and it’s become part of my nightly ritual.

I have to be back at the hospital in eight hours, so I set the four hideously loud alarms I’ll need to coax me out of my pit in the morning before crawling under the covers. I down the dregs of the whiskey and wonder if itwould taste even better on Stefano’s lips. My heart sinks a little, knowing I’ll never find out.

It’s been a long shift,and while Danny’s persistent attentions worked out great for my patients—he’s a phenomenal nurse—he’s been tapdancing on my last fucking nerve as he seems to be everywhere, constantly needing my input on charts or approvals for fuck-knows-what.

Thank God I have residents I can offload him onto. In order to get some peace, I’ve set them a challenge. Whoever keeps Danny out of my hair for the longest, gets to scrub in on the next massive abdominal trauma. It’s not like it’s a huge sacrifice on my part. All of them are perfectly capable—I wouldn’t have them on my service if they weren’t—but at least this way, I’m killing two birds with one stone. Danny and my residents have been AWOL for the last hour.

There’s a series of aggressive beeps from my pager that have me rummaging around in the deep pocket of my doctor’s coat till I find it. Glancing at the screen, it seems I’ve been summoned to the nurse’s station on four.

Fuck. I knew my luck would run out sooner or later.

It doesn’t take more than five minutes to make my way back up to the surgical floor. I’m approaching the nurse’s station when an arm wraps around my waist and turns me towards a tall, warm body. My hackles rise, ready to give whoever has the audacity to touch me apiece of my mind, only to notice the arm in question is wrapped in a bespoke charcoal grey suit. I’m overwhelmed with a rich scent of oud and bergamot, which has me relaxing into his hold. I know who it is before our eyes meet.

Stefano.

“Sorry, darling, I just couldn’t wait to see you.” His lips are pressed to mine before I can register his words. The kiss is soft and delicate, his lips muffling but not silencing my squeal of surprise, and there’s no concealing the satisfied moan that slips out from my lips. My mind is clouded with need and ignites every feeling I’ve long suppressed for this man.

In the second it takes for reality to sink in, he steals the weight of his lips from mine. I almost stamp my foot in annoyance. Not because he kissed me, but because I didn’t have time to enjoy it. What’s more, I’m speechless. Which is very unlike me.

“I… uh…” Words aren’t wording right now.

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