Chapter 2 Aurelia
Aurelia
Once Constantine’s staff were back to their positions, we had someone take care of Medusa while we were out of the house so she wouldn’t be alone.
She was doing much better now, and with her walker to assist her, she was in much higher spirits.
It seemed that the immobility, not the pain, had been the source of her depression.
We got out of the cab and stepped into the village, and even though it’d only been a few months since I was last here, it felt different. Felt magical, special—and like home. I was a different person from the last time I was here, so I also felt like I was experiencing it for the first time.
Constantine took my hand and held it as we headed down Corso Umberto, the main road, and we passed the Duomo and the fountain with the horse statues on the right. It was where we’d met on our first official date, before he’d taken me into the village and introduced me to Bam Bar and La Focaccia.
I’d thought we were just a fling at the time, and now I hoped he would be my husband someday.
The street was busier than it’d been in May because the high season hadn’t started yet, but now it was late June, so there were a lot more people around window-shopping, ordering gelato, looking at the dishes and pottery from the boutique shops.
“Where are we going?” I wore a light-blue sundress and platform sandals.
I’d taken only the essentials when we’d left, so I didn’t have my full wardrobe, just my summer stuff.
The rest of it had been left behind, and I imagined Darius had someone toss it all.
But I’d brought the stuff that mattered, like keepsakes, pictures, and items that belonged to my mother.
“Daiquiri. The boys are meeting us.”
“Oh.”
“That a problem?” he asked as he looked down at me.
“Well, I can just head back if you want to hang out with your friends. I don’t want to intrude—”
“Intrude?” He came to a stop and looked at me like I’d just lost my mind. “You’re my woman, so you are one of the boys.” He continued forward again, bringing me with him. “Come on, they’ll love to see you.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. They’ve liked you since the day they met you at the beach. And if they didn’t like you, I’d punch them in the face until they changed their minds.” He gave me that handsome smirk, like maybe that was a joke . . . or maybe not.
We turned left and headed down the stairs, the white sign with the black writing visible, with the name Daiquiri printed.
We’d been there before, and they had a cute stone courtyard with bright blue and yellow chairs with decorative pillows, music over the speakers, people enjoying their vacations with big mixed drinks with colored straws and umbrellas hanging over the rim.
He found the guys seated in the corner, and when they all spotted Constantine, they gave a shout in unison.
They all stood to greet him, and a round of hugs and hand claps was exchanged.
I recognized his cousin Antonio and his friends from the beach, like Aldo, Francesco, and Gianni.
They all greeted me just as warmly, hugs all around.
We took our seats, and without taking his eyes off his friends, Constantine moved his enormous hand to the area just below my knee, his forearm the length of my thigh, being his normal possessive self. “It’s good to be back in town. What have you boys been up to?”
They talked about work. They all seemed to be in the service industry, working in family-owned restaurants, with the exception of Aldo, who was an assistant manager at one of the nicer hotels.
They shared some gossip about people in town, a couple who’d recently broken up, famous people who’d come into their restaurants recently, stuff like that.
“So, I hear you’re in town for good?” Antonio asked.
“Yeah, I heard the same,” Francesco said.
“Damn, word travels fast,” Constantine said with a slight laugh.
“Well, your ma told mine,” Antonio said. “And she blew up my phone with texts right away.”
“So, is it true?” Aldo asked.
There was a flicker in Constantine’s eyes, a momentary lapse in his happiness, a sting in his gaze. But it passed as quickly as it came. “It is.”
“Man, that’s awesome,” Francesco said. “Now we can hang out all the time. Beach club every Saturday.”
“You haven’t been to a Sunday-night dinner in a while,” Antonio said. “They’ve gotten bigger, if you can believe it.”
“I can absolutely believe it,” Constantine said with a chuckle.
“So, what changed?” Antonio asked. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
Me. He had to give up everything he loved .
. . for me. And that made me feel horrible every day.
I wanted to live a quiet life in Taormina close to his family and see a beautiful sunset every night, but I knew Constantine was destined for something greater.
The blood of emperors ran in his veins, and he should be in Rome serving his country and his people—not letting it be destroyed by the psychopath who’d killed his brother.
Constantine paused for a heavy moment, like he actually considered telling them the truth.
But instead, he issued a vague answer that was true but also empty.
“It was time to move on.” He glanced at his hand on my thigh before he gave me a gentle pat.
“There are more important things in life than work.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.” We walked down the street and turned slightly to the right, moving uphill as we ventured deeper into town. “I’ve thought about this granita every single day since we were here. I can’t believe they don’t have it in Rome.”
He smirked. “If I’d known you wanted it that bad, I would have asked my chef to make it.”
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be the same.”
“He’s from Sicily, so I’m sure it would be.”
“You tell me this now . . .”
His hand moved to my ass, and he gave me a playful smack. “Well, now we can come here every morning to make up for your losses.”
“Works for me. Can’t wait until we can bring Medusa with us.”
“She’ll love it here.”
We walked up to the restaurant and stood in line underneath the sign, and just like the last time we’d come here, the waiter knew who Constantine was and got us a table outside.
They made small talk about family, and Constantine told him he was back in town for the foreseeable future.
The waiter left the menus for us to decide what we wanted.
“God, I have anxiety.” I looked at the flavors on the menu, then saw what they had written on the sign next to the kitchen.
“Over granita?” Constantine asked with a smirk.
“I’ve wanted this so long, I don’t know what to do.”
He turned to see what the flavors were for the day. “Their special is mulberry. I would get two scoops of that. It’s pretty good, and they don’t make it often. Probably because it’s in season.”
“Yeah?”
He continued to smirk. “You act like you’re about to make a deal with some suits.”
“That’s exactly how I feel.”
When the waiter came back over, Constantine ordered for the both of us. He got the same thing I did and handed over the menus.
I took in the scene, the beautifully painted tables made of volcanic rock, the bright sun in the center of their logo, the people who passed in front of the restaurant with their bags of souvenirs or sandwiches tucked in waxed paper.
Constantine watched me. “You love it here.”
I turned to meet his stare. “I do. It’s where I fell in love with you.”
A little smile moved onto his lips. “That quick?”
“Oh, one hundred percent,” I said with a chuckle, relieved that I could get all these big feelings off my chest. Relieved I didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t the man I wanted the rest of my life.
“Because you sure played hard to get a lot,” he teased.
“I didn’t want to jump from one relationship to the next. I wanted to do it right, because I knew you were the real deal. And I guess I never thought it would go anywhere at the time because, you know, you’re hotter than the fucking sun, and I’m nothing special.”
“Nothing special . . .” His smirk continued. “Sweetheart, if only you were in my head the first time I saw you. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you again at the bar of the hotel. Felt like I won the lottery.”
Psh, I was the one who won the fucking lottery. “You’re sweet.”
The waiter arrived with our glass bowls of granita and the basket that contained two brioche rolls. He placed a bottle of water for us to share and two cups before he walked off to help the other tables.
“Here we go.” Constantine handed me a spoon so I could take the first bite.
I spooned the granita out, then smeared it on a piece of the brioche before I popped it into my mouth. “Oh god.” I added more granita to the bread and proceeded to eat it piece by piece, and it got better with every bite. “It’s sooooo good.”
Constantine continued to watch me. “Not gonna lie, this is turning me on a bit.”
“I’ll happily eat granita off your dick.”
This was one of those moments where he would usually smirk, but he continued his hard stare, made it slightly sharper. “You’ve got yourself a deal, sweetheart.”
With the exception of Medusa still being hurt and needing her medications, that week felt like a vacation.
Constantine took me out all the time, showed me spots we hadn’t seen the first time we were there.
That night, we got ready for dinner and returned to the hotel where we’d met for dinner at their Michelin-star restaurant, Principe Cerami.
We were given a table outside on the terrace with unobstructed views of the sea.
By the time we were seated, the sun had already set so we couldn’t see the water for more than ten minutes before it was gone.
Then the city lights along the coastline became our view.
Constantine ordered the six-course meal so he could try everything, but I stuck to the à la carte menu and ordered the artisanal spaghetti with tomatoes and salty ricotta cheese. Constantine chose the wine without needing to look at the menu.