Page 7 of Fierce Protector

Shaking my head, I attempt to pull myself together, but it’s difficult when every romantic thought I’ve ever had about Stefano is rampaging through my mind like a stampede of wild horses. I’m pulled out of my fantasy world by the nurses chattering and the bitch who always screws up my charts muttering ‘old enough to be her father’. I’m ready to tell her where she can shove her opinion when Stefano rests a hand on my lower back and drags my focus back to him.

“I know you weren’t expecting me, but I thought I could surprise you and take you for a coffee.” Stefano pauses and gestures towards someone behind me. “Nurse Costello here was just telling me that the cart out front has the best coffee in the hospital. Isn’t that right, Danny?”

There’s an awkward pause as I pivot to face him. “Hi, Danny.” My voice is thin and painfully awkward. I feel like a teenager who’s just been busted trying to sneak her boyfriend up to her room.

What’s worse is Danny looks devastated, like a puppy who’s lost his favourite chew toy. Why I ever agreed to go on a date with him escapes me as I look into his sad eyes. All he needs is a quivering lip, and I’ll truly feel like the villain in his story. He was never going to compare to what I want in a man. I’m ruined for anyone who’s not gruff, dominant, and able to handle my attitude. Preferably someone in a tailor-made suit and carrying a gun.

“Err… yeah. Enjoy your coffee,” he replies, his voice meek and his face crestfallen. He grabs a chart from the rack, turns, and retreats down the corridor without another word.

Great. Now I’m the bitch who humiliated him in front of all his co-workers. My hands are firmly on my hips and my toe is already tapping by the time I turn back to face Stefano. The arrogant smirk plastered across his face makes me want to slap it clean off of him.

He leans into me again, taking my elbow in his palm and steering me along the hallway. His low rumble drags itself across the shell of my ear as he whispers, “Not here, Katerina. You can unleash your vicious tongue once we’re fully caffeinated.”

Biting the inside of my cheek does nothing to stiflemy growl of frustration, but it does stop the tirade of words I want to hurl at him. I force what I’m hoping is a convincing smile, and follow along, if only to escape the shocked expressions of my colleagues. Not once in the years I’ve worked here has anyone I’ve dated visited at the hospital.

I’m aware that most of them think I’m a heartless bitch. Well, the other surgeons don’t because they’re almost all built to exude the same cold detachment necessary to carve people open on a daily basis. For male doctors, that makes them strong, stoic, and dependable. As a female surgeon, that same professionalism makes me a callous narcissist, incapable of enticing any man. At least that’s the sentiment of the hospital grapevine.

If that’s how they want to view me, so be it. I’ve never been one to get hung up on people’s opinions of me. Unless you're feeding, financing, or fucking me, why should I? Plus, it’s been a long time since I’ve needed anyone to take responsibility for any of those things. My side hustle for the Cosa Nostra pays handsomely and has wiped out the debt I amassed at med school. I’m yet to find a man who cooks better than my local takeout restaurants, and I have a drawer in my bedside table that, when paired with my rather vivid imagination, keeps me in orgasms.

Sure, I’ve dated over the years. There was the professor who thought the belly button was an erogenous zone, the stockbroker who thought the size of his portfolio offset his stunningly dull personality and the architect who had entirely too many opinions on why Bella should have picked Jacob. The problem withworking pretty much every waking hour is that you mostly only bump into people in the line getting your morning coffee, and this back catalogue of mediocrity is why I’ve bought my own coffee machine.

It doesn’t take long to navigate our way through the maze of corridors out into the afternoon sun. I look up and bathe in the warmth of it. Stefano walks us towards a bench off to the side of the courtyard and finally meets my eyes. He has the gall to smirk at my glare.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I grind out, but he simply shakes his head before pushing my shoulder lightly, encouraging me to sit down.

“Sit. First coffee, then shouting,” he says with a smile.

His words do nothing to bring my boiling rage to a simmer, but what surprises me more than the fact I obey him, is that Iwantto obey him. There’s something about the way he speaks to me that has my core clenching and my nipples peaking. A note of authority that for once, I don’t want to rebel against quite so much.

I perch myself on the bench and turn to catch the first softening rays of the setting sun. I can’t remember the last time I spent any time outside the hospital walls mid-shift. Sure, we have breaks, but I normally use them to grab a shower or catch up on charting with a snack from the cafeteria. Hospital, work, home, sleep, occasionalfamilyemergency, repeat. This is the most Vitamin D I’ve been exposed to in what feels like forever.

The changing colours in the sky lull me into a far more reasonable mood. Completely against my will. I glance back towards the kiosk and see Stefano at thecounter, adding sugar to my coffee. It shouldn’t make me happy that he knows how I take it because he’s been in my life for as long as I can remember, but our history is also why this is a terrible idea, and what’s worse is that it wasmyterrible idea.

Why did I open my big mouth? I’m a masochist, that’s why.

I only said it to shock him. To get him to drop this ridiculous interest in a situation I’m perfectly capable of handling myself. Admittedly, he was right. I do need to take it more seriously, which is why I was going to have a word with Danny today. Deal with it myself, but oh no, Stefano’s decided to entangle himself in a career I’ve managed to keep entirely separate from the family for years.

Heavy-handed, sexy-as-fuck, pig-headed, salt-n-pepper fox.

I’m so confused right now. I can’t tell if I’m angry or turned on or both.

“So let me have it, then.” His words snap me out of my trip down memory lane. He takes a seat next to me and hands me my coffee. His posture is relaxed, and that pisses me off even more.

“You can’t just waltz into my hospital and make a unilateral decision that affects my career. What the hell are you playing at? Publicly marking your territory in front of the whole damn floor. You might as well have pissed on me for how subtle you were.”

“In my defence?—”

He’s holding up a palm as if he’s trying to calm a wild animal, which only serves to wind me up further. “Thereis no defence for this, Stefano. How dare you insert yourself into my life. You have no right.”

“I think you’ll find it was your idea,” he says with a small, mischievous little shrug. This man is so fucking confusing. I can’t tell if I want to fight him or fuck him. It’s maddening.

“I wasn’t serious. And I sure as shit didn’t think you’d rock up the next day and run with it. This is ridiculous. You couldn’t—I don’t know—discuss it with me first?”

He drops his gaze to his coffee, looking oddly embarrassed all of a sudden. I swear there’s colour flushing his cheeks. I don’t think I can remember a single time where I’ve seen a sheepish expression on his face. I mouth off and he smirks. It’s our routine. We have it down pat. It catches me off guard and I find myself lost for words, letting the pause grow into an awkward silence.

“You have a point.”

“Of course I have a point. Exactly how am I supposed to explain this to my dad? What if it gets back to him?”

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