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"Whatever the reason, doctors cannot use the hospital as their own personal stores," she snaps.
"What was the cost of the kit?" he asks, an air of menace in his voice. "I'll pay it. I don't give a damn."
"That's not what this is about," the woman says, her voice starting to shake slightly. "Again, doctors are not authorized to give away the hospital's supplies."
Constantino scoffs. "You all have a pretty fucked up sense of what's right and wrong. And they call me the crazy one."
"Do you want a copy of the letter, Doctor Moretti?" the administrator asks me, trying to get around Constantino who doesn't move an inch to let her pass.
"No, thank you," I sigh, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.
"It will be added to your file," Linda says, rushing herself out of the room and away from Constantino, who is currently growling at her like a feral animal.
He turns to me, and I look at him with my hands up. "Please don't do anything stupid. It's just office politics."
"You don't work in an office," he gruffs.
"Worse. I work in a hospital." I glance at the clock, realizing I'm just a few minutes from my shift ending. How did time pass so fast?
"That woman's a straight up bitch," he says, and I nod, unable to disagree.
"Well, good thing you're not working here anymore," Constantino says, catching me off guard.
"Excuse me?" I ask, my voice shaky. "What exactly do you mean?"
"I've already decided. You're going to be the family doctor. Things are about to get pretty violent for us. We'll need someone on call and in house at all times."
"Absolutely not," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Constantino chuckles, the deep sound filling the entire room. I try, and fail, to fight the shivers it causes in me.
"It's cute that you think you have a choice."
"I do have a choice," I say, my voice firm. "You're not going to intimidate me. Especially not with what I know."
My words hang in the air like a ticking time bomb, and I brace myself for the explosion. Constantino's casual demeanor shifts to one of suppressed rage in a heartbeat, his green eyes darkening as they bore into mine. He moves with lightningspeed, pinning me against the wall, his breath hot against my face.
"I thought we had an understanding, Doctor. I'm not one to be threatened," he snarls, his anger palpable.
I grit my teeth, digging deep down for my courage. "Neither am I," I say, trying to sound braver than I feel. "I'm not going to become a mob doctor."
He runs his tongue over his teeth before biting down in irritation. "I don't take kindly to people telling me no," he growls.
"Then go cry to your mommy about it," I taunt, pushing my luck.
He takes a step back and looks at me, his expression softening just a little. "Can't. She's dead."
"Oh," I say, instantly regretting my words. "I'm sorry."
He shrugs, dismissing my apology. "Doesn't matter." His gaze narrows in on me again.
"I'm still not quitting my job," I say defiantly.
"Why are you sticking around for a job that treats you like shit?" he asks, walking over to the counter and opening the cupboard.
"Because some of us need to work for a living," I retort, watching as he starts taking things out that he shouldn't be touching.
"Newsflash, I'm offering you new employment," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
I walk over and slam the cabinet shut, my heart pounding in my chest. "I don't want to risk going to prison over it."
