Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
KATERINA
SIX WEEKS LATER…
T he next time I see Stefano Tiero, I’m going to punch him square in the face. I glance down at my clenched fists and decide that’s a terrible idea. I need to protect my hands if I want to be able to do my job. Maybe violence is not the answer, but honestly, I’m at the end of my rope. He’s at the hospital every damn day, and keeping up this charade is becoming increasingly difficult. Especially now.
Two weeks ago, I got a call I never expected to receive. Enzo was alive—barely—and I had to do everything in my power to bring him back to us. My worlds collided that day, but it didn’t matter. My only task was to save him. For Aurora. For the Bianchi Bastards. For all of us .
It took every ounce of my skill, but when he pulled through, I don’t think I’ve felt relief like it. I’ve done everything I can for Enzo throughout his recovery. Pulled every string and called in every favour to make sure that he has the best care on the most secure ward we have.
Given my position, there’s very little the hospital administration would refuse me, but by leveraging my influence for a patient so clearly involved in criminal activities, my colleagues have started asking more questions than they ever had before. Then you throw in that my ‘boyfriend’ is obviously connected with our new VIP patient, it’s getting harder and harder to keep prying eyes out of my business.
It’s like I’m being watched by everyone. There are prying eyes around every corner and it’s nearly impossible to maintain this facade of dating Stefano Tiero. This was supposed to be an easy fix to chase off an idiot with a mild infatuation, and while it’s working and the notes have stopped, I’m now sneaking around my hospital making sure that the staff see me with Stefano while simultaneously avoiding anyone connected to the Bianchi’s.
It's exhausting.
I’ll be so relieved when Enzo is discharged, and everything can go back to normal. Well, norma-lish. Fuck knows when this fake relationship is going to end and some of the nurses are getting a little too attached to Stefano.
Speak of the devil.
I glance around the hospital corridor and see a congregation of scrub nurses watching him as he makes his way towards me. I beckon him towards the nearest door so we can speak in private. I’m fed up with the perpetual audience I seem to have these days. As I open the door, I’m just about to drag Stefano inside with me when a strained cry of “Occupied” rings out from what I can only describe as a well-fucked Benedict Romano. He’s holding on to a metal shelf above his head that looks like it’s buckled under his weight, while Nico has his face buried in Benny’s neck. He’s rutting into Benny like a wild animal, holding him off the ground, legs spread with Benny’s knees hooked over his forearms.
There’s an animalistic snarl before Nico turns his head and glares at us. There’s no need for words. The “fuck off” is loud enough without them. The last thing I was expecting to see today was Nico Verardi buried to the hilt in Benny’s ass. That wasn’t on my bingo card, and it knocks the wind out of my sails.
Stefano reaches in front of me and closes the door. It doesn’t take more than a moment for me to remember that I’m pissed off at him, however now I’m pissed off and more than a little turned on. I’m not saying I want to head back into that room and join Nico and Benny—hell, no—but oh my god, seeing the absolutely feral look in Nico’s eye and the expression of bliss on Benny’s face has reminded me how dire my own sex life is. How I’d love to be railed with the same kind of reckless abandon.
It wasn’t too long ago that I thought Stefano was going to be the man to rail me, however, since that night at his place, he’s completely shut down on me. He made it clear when he sent me to bed. He’s not interested in me.
“You need to have a word with them,” I hiss. “I know Enzo needs protection while he’s recovering, but you all need to keep a lower profile around here.”
“You want me to tell Nico Verardi he can’t blow off a little steam?”
“He can blow Benny at home,” I whisper shout. It’s hard not to smile back at him when he lets out an unexpected chuckle at my words. There’s something about how Stefano’s eyes light up when he smiles that has butterflies fluttering in my belly. I shake off my symptoms of unrequited infatuation and steel myself to scold him. “It’s not fucking funny, Stefano. My colleagues are asking too many questions about my boyfriend’s friend and his many visitors, and need for round-the-clock security. It’s getting harder to explain the longer you’re all here.”
His smile drops and he nods. “Sorry Katerina, I’ll have a word with everyone. The last thing we want to do is risk your reputation, and we appreciate the strings you pulled to keep the hospital from reporting Enzo’s injuries to the authorities.”
It’s really difficult to rant at someone with conviction when they’re agreeing with you.
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 at having 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. The idea 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’s palm 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 been busted 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 hours in 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 attention front. 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.
There’s a disturbingly loud chink at the base of my glass taps down against my granite countertop. I thread the tail of the satin bow through my fingers and pull it open, using my free hand to flick the lid off the box as the ribbon falls away. I realise as I’m doing it, I must look ridiculous. Treating the box like something might jump out at me.
Nothing does.
I stare down at the contents and I’m speechless. Inside are at least two dozen long-stemmed white roses, bound together with yet more white ribbon. They’re stunning, but I’m more than a little confused. This doesn’t feel like a nice gesture. It feels oppressive in its ostentatiousness.
I search the box for a card and quickly find a small white envelope the size of a business card. I pick up the wine glass and take a larger glug before ripping it open.
Reading the message, my heart sinks, and my pulse races.
Your heart is mine, D
Well, that’s not at all unsettling. Goosebumps break out across my forearms, and I fold in on myself, rubbing my arms to try and chase away the chill. What the actual fuck? Is it a love letter? Is it a threat? Who can tell.
Grabbing my wine glass, I am ready to swallow the lot to steady my nerves when there’s a loud banging at the door. I jump halfway out of my skin at the noise and the glass slips from my grip and shatters at my feet.
Fuck.
“Katerina, open up,” comes Stefano’s strained voice through the door.
The relief that washes over me is palpable. I thought it was Danny. Is he watching me now he knows where I live?
“What was that noise? Are you alright? ”
I’m barefoot, surrounded by glass, and trapped in place. “Hang on, I smashed a glass,” I shout back, looking around for my best route to freedom. However, I’m obviously not quick enough as there’s a sudden thud against my front door from what I assume is Stefano’s shoulder as he tries to force it open. “For fuck’s sake, cut it out, you lunatic. I’m coming.”
The glass is everywhere. My only escape is over the kitchen island. Pushing the box to the side, I hop up on the counter just as the second bang hits and the hinges of my door give way. Stefano falls through, tripping on the shoes and bag I left in a heap there.
“You absolute fucking moron,” I shout as I scramble across the island and drop down on the other side. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Careful to watch out for any stray shards of glass, I pad down the hallway as Stefano rolls onto his back and reaches for his shoulder. Looks like he came down pretty hard on it, but I have zero sympathy.
“I thought I heard something.” He groans as he pokes and prods at his collarbone.
“You did. I smashed a wine glass,” I snap at him, as I kneel at his side and bat his hand out of the way, feeling his shoulder and checking for any serious damage. “Why the hell are you here anyway?”
His eyes flick to mine and I know I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.
“Stefano. Why are you here?” My tone is firm and to hammer home the point, I extend my index finger and use it to poke him hard in centre of his chest .
“I was informed that a suspicious package had been delivered to you.”
“Informed by who?” My finger pushes harder into his sternum, and he winces.
“The team I have assigned to you.”
I’m speechless at his admission and from the confused expression on his face, Stefano can’t tell if I’m furious at the invasion of privacy or flattered that he’s protecting me. I’m not sure I know myself, for that matter. He has people watching me? The thought that he’s wasting Bianchi resources should have me spitting feathers, but I’m struggling to muster any anger.
Stefano sits up and rolls his shoulder which snaps me out of my thoughts. “Come on,” I say, standing and reaching out to help him up. “You can ice your shoulder and explain yourself while I clear up.”