Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
KATERINA
I t’s been a long day filled with nothing but complicated surgeries and bad outcomes. No one likes losing patients, but losing them back-to-back only compounds the failure you feel. It settles in your bones and makes you question every ounce of skill you’ve spent years honing.
The last surgery was a clusterfuck and not even the self-proclaimed cardio god was able to repair the aortic dissection the patient sprung on us. Doctor Jenkins followed me out of the OR and kept on at me about my lack of focus these days. While a part of me understands that it’s his way to blame everyone else in the room when something goes wrong, today is not the day and I am not the one.
I’d turned my back on him, telling him to lodge a complaint with the Chief of Surgery if he was truly questioning my competence. Thankfully, he didn’t try to follow me and had given up on his tirade.
I’m currently refusing to budge from under the rather limp, semi-hot spray of the changing room showers. It’s doing two-fifths of fuck-all to soothe my screaming muscles, sore from standing elbow-deep in patients for hours on end, but I needed to wash away the day.
I hadn’t felt right since last night. I should have told Stefano the moment I’d started receiving the calls, but I was so convinced that he and Nico were overreacting that I’d ignored them. No matter how much I try, I can’t shake the feeling I’ve let him and myself down.
I finally haul myself out of the cubicle and change. It’s not only the sudden shift in temperature that has me shivering. I used to feel safe at the hospital, but now it’s like I’m looking over my shoulder at every turn. Although the notes have stopped, the phone calls and now text messages aren’t slowing down. If anything, they’re getting worse. I reach for my phone and find a flurry of notifications obscuring the screen. Dozens of alerts from the same unknown number. Missed calls, voicemails, and texts. Rubbing my hand over my face, I prepare myself for the worst.
They start out almost friendly, yet they’re tainted with a manic level of delusion that turns my stomach. Apologies for his ‘unkind words’ soon turn into unhinged scoldings for ignoring him and venomous insults.
UNKNOWN:
Whores don’t deserve mercy. When I get my hands on you, I’ll flay every inch of skin he’s touched from your bones.
Bile rises in my throat, and I run to one of the stalls, unable to stop myself from emptying the contents of my stomach. When I’m quite sure I’m done and it’s safe to put some distance between myself and the toilet bowl, I drag myself up. I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirrors above the sink as I wash my hands.
There are dark circles under my eyes, and exhaustion etched into my face that all of a sudden… Pisses. Me. Off.
How fucking dare anyone treat me—Katerina Mancini—with so little respect? I’m done letting this delusional asshole get to me. Who the fuck does he think he is? It’s insane to me that the Danny, who I’ve seen comfort dying patients, is the same asshole sending such vile things to me. How did I misjudge him so badly?
I storm back across to my locker and tug on a pair of jeans and a blouse that’s somehow managed to stay relatively wrinkle-free in my bag today.
By the time I’ve dressed and made it to the parking lot, I’ve managed to work myself up into the healthy little whirlwind of rage. As I reach my car, my phone buzzes in my pocket and for a brief moment, I think it will be yet another message from my not-so-secret admirer, but a weight lifts when Stefano’s name lights up my screen.
I’m about to tell him about the latest barrage of messages when he jumps in first. “Are you on your way home? We need to talk about something.” I’m thrown because while those are never the words a woman wants to hear, there’s nothing in his tone that suggests it’s bad news.
“Okay, that doesn’t sound ominous at all. What’s wrong?”
“We need to talk to your father about what’s going on,” he says with absolute conviction.
My heart stutters at his words and even though I’m deliriously happy right now, the idea of telling my father anything about us and bursting my little bubble of bliss has me nervous. “With my stalker or between us?”
“Both,” he says after a pregnant pause.
Something in my brain short circuits. I knew we’d have to face him sooner or later I’m just baffled as to why now all of a sudden. “Why the urgency? Don’t you think we should, I don’t know, date for more than a few weeks before we start adding the metric fuck tonne of pressure that telling my dad will add? Why now?”
“Because the don took me aside today and tore me a new one. She wants us to tell your father about your stalker?—”
“Does she know about us?” I interrupt. I’m not sure how I’d feel about Aurora knowing before I’ve had a chance to tell my father.
“No, but I can’t lie to your dad and Aurora is right—your father should be aware of any threat to you,” he says softly but resolutely. I’m nodding, but I don’t know what to say. “And you’re not some dirty little secret. I won’t deny us or pretend that it’s not real. ”
I don’t say anything.
“Are you still there, Katerina?”
“Uh-huh… I’m nodding.” He gives me a moment and I take the opportunity to get into the driver’s seat and take a few deep breaths. “So, we’re telling my father?”
“We are.”
It takes me a few moments for me to notice I’m nodding again, not speaking. “You get this is ridiculous? This relationship is happening all out of order. You’ve moved into my house without even taking me on a real date yet and now we’re telling my father before we’ve even had the ‘where is this going’ conversation. Not to mention the weeks of kissing me in the corridors, pretending you were mine, before that.” My words run together in a frenzied jumble. My thoughts are disjointed and scattered from having this conversation over the phone and not face to face. If he were here, he would have dragged me into his lap and be kissing my frown away by now.
When we’re together and it’s just us, everything feels right and like it’s happening just as it should be, how it’s always meant to be. Maybe I’ve been foolish, but now we have to tell people and they’re going to ask questions I simply don’t have answers to because we’ve never talked about our future, and that will be the first thing my father asks us. I’ve known Stefano my whole life and loved him for as long as I can remember, but it’s not like I can say that out loud. We’ve been dating for a few weeks, not the years it feels like.
“Breathe, baby girl. I can hear your mind whirring from here.” The rumble of his gentle tenor washes over me and settles over my body like a weighted blanket, making me feel treasured. “Come home, now.”
We say goodbye, and I do as I’m told. I forget about the messages and the fear that was racing through me only a few minutes ago and instead, I’m swept away by the loving and fierce protection that I’ve only ever felt with Stefano.
Wholeheartedly and without reservation, I drive straight back home… to him.
The moment I turn the handle on the front door. Stefano is wrenching it open and pulling me into his arms. I let out a startled cry before dropping everything on the doormat and jumping into his arms.
He kicks the door closed before he turns, pinning me against the hallway wall and I let his embrace soothe all my worries.
“I need to make something clear. I don’t care that we’re doing everything in the wrong order. Now that you’re mine, I can’t see there ever being a future that doesn’t revolve around how I feel for you.”
I gasp. “You can’t possibly mean that.” It’s everything I want to hear, but after waiting and wanting him for so long, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to let me believe them.
“Dammit, woman, don’t try and tell me how I’m feeling and actually listen to what I’m saying. I’m trying to tell you I love you.” His arms tighten around me, like a physical plea, begging me to hear him .
Rolling my eyes, I reply, “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been dating for a matter of weeks. You can’t say things like that and expect me to take you seriously.” My heart thunders, pounding so hard it feels like it’s trying to beat out of my chest.
“For the love of God. Are you really this obstinate? I fucking love you. I’ve loved you since the moment you first kissed me. I just never thought I’d be fortunate enough to get to kiss you again, let alone have a future with you. Now it’s all I can think about, and I’ll be damned if I allow you to carry on for one moment, not knowing how I feel about you.”
Stefano’s breath escapes in great heaving exhalations, blowing the fine hairs that frame my face in ragged huffs. It takes a few seconds for his words to permeate my defences, but little by little my expression shifts as my head catches up with my heart. The corners of my mouth tip up slowly until it blooms into a broad smile.
“Well, what’s a girl expected to say in response to that?” I say, with nothing but happiness lighting me up from the inside.
“I don’t need you to say anything in return. Yes, it’s fast, but we’ve wasted so many years not saying anything, Katerina. I’m forty-eight, and I’ll be damned if I waste one more second without you.”
He leans into me, letting his hips take the weight of our embrace, freeing one hand to roam along my curves and up my body until he wraps his hand around my throat. The noise it pulls from me is wanton and desperate and only escalates when he flexes his fingers and tightens his grip, demanding my lips meet his. Our tongues collide in a clash of passion and possession.
We burn ourselves out, coming back up for air and locking gazes. “Stop measuring what we have in terms of weeks because we both know that’s a false equivalency. What we feel has been growing for years, Katerina. I don’t care if you can’t say it yet, but I can. I love you.”
“I—” I start, but Stefano presses a finger to my lips to stop me from saying something I know in my bones I’m not ready to say yet. The first time I say it, I want to feel it in my soul.
“Say it when you mean it, micetta .”
“There’s very little more irritating than a man who tells you how to feel. Even if he’s right.”
“Wait a minute. Did you just admit that I might be right about something?” he teases, kissing my cheek and touching his forehead to mine.
“Don’t let it go to your head, vecchietto .”
I unfurl my legs and he releases his hold, letting me slide down to the floor. Stefano brushes the curtain of waves back from my face and kisses me softly. “Go get changed into something more comfortable. I’ll start on dinner.”
I cup his face, raking my fingertips through his sinfully tempting scruff. I smile when he leans into my touch. It’s such a small gesture but I can’t deny the feeling of pure happiness that overtakes me with every intimate touch we share.
“Give me five minutes,” I say before reaching up on tiptoes and kissing the tip of his cheek. I kick off my shoes and head towards the stairs taking a moment to look back. Stefano is half smiling, half rolling his eyes as he tidies up the bundle of chaos discarded haphazardly by the door.
“A hurricane would leave less debris in its wake,” he mutters with an adoring smile that has me floating as I head upstairs to change.