There was no doubting that Dante’s reputation alone was enough to ensure I was treated as a VIP patient, never mind the fear that his actual presence instilled in people.
And it was that same feared man that I now had to go home to and inform that he was about to be a daddy.
Again.
After only having known each other for approximately seven weeks.
Splendid.
I read through his texts, and they had gone from threatening to teasing, to concern, and back to threatening again – although for a completely different reason than the first lot of threats.
He wanted to know why I wasn’t answering him, why I was taking so long, and then threatened to turn up at the hospital himself and burn the place to the ground if they were upsetting me.
The man was fucking obsessed with fire.
The thought had barely had a chance to register before my phone rang, making me jump in the air.
Dante.
“I know you’ve left the hospital,” he said as soon as I pressed answer. “Why haven’t you answered me back? Where are you going?”
“I was in the middle of texting you when… Hang on… How the fuck do you know I’ve left the hospital?”
“I’m watching your tracker,” he said, his tone implying it was no big deal.
“You’re tracking me?” I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at it in horror. I twisted it around, as though I was going to find a big red sticker that said “Rachel’s tracking device” in bold letters. “You put a trackerinmy phone?”
“Of course I put a tracker in your phone,” he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “There’s no place on this earth that you could go where I wouldn’t find you. This just makes my job easier. Now answer the question: where are you going?”
“I’m not happy about this.”
“Be grateful I didn’t stick the tracker in your neck. Don’t make me ask a third time, Rachel.”
“Jesus Christ,” I huffed, rolling my eyes and resisting the urge to stamp my feet.
Very mature and motherly.
“Well?”
“I’m on my way back to the club!”
“You’re not in an Uber.”
“I realise you didn’t phrase that as a question, but I’m going to answer it, anyway. No, I am not in an Uber. I’m walking. Is that a crime?”
“It is when you’re on your own, yes.”
“I don’t need a guardian!”
“I never said you did,” he chuckled. The man actually had the fucking audacity to find this funny. “Think of it more as a bodyguard.”
“I don’t need one of those, either.”
“Debatable.” I could almosthearthe shrug he just did. I didn’t need to be able to see him.
“I could throw this phone away right now.”
“Okay.”
