Chapter 12 Aurelia
Aurelia
When I woke up that morning, I knew it was my final day in paradise. But while I was sad that the vacation was about to end, I didn’t have to be sad that my time with Constantine was ending.
I wasn’t sure where it would lead, but at least the door was open.
He fucked me quick and hard every morning like he needed it to start his day, went to the gym, and then showered. He took me out to breakfast, and then we had lunch together next door to my hotel at Trattoria da Nino, and he ordered the catch of the day for us to share.
When the waiter brought the white fish on the platter and placed it in front of Constantine, head and everything, I wasn’t sure what we were supposed to do with it.
“Would you like me to clean it, sir?” the waiter asked.
Constantine brushed him off. “I’ve got this, man.” With his utensils, he cleaned the fish like he’d done it a hundred times, working until just the meat was on the table. He handed the plate with all the pieces we didn’t want to eat back to the waiter, and then he divided the fish between us.
“Where’d you learn that?” I asked.
“My father. When you grow up in a family of cooks, you learn the trade.”
I took a bite of my fish, and I was a bit taken aback by the taste.
“It’s all right?”
“Yeah, it’s the best fish I’ve ever had.”
He grinned. “The reason everyone comes here.”
We finished lunch and then headed back to his room.
The second we walked in the door, he came up behind me, lifted me into his arms, and then literally threw me on the bed.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you in this little dress all day.
” He tugged me to the edge, lifted up my sundress, and ripped off my thong so he could sink inside me.
“Jesus Christ.” It was like he hadn’t fucked me that morning, or the day before, or the day before that. Several times every twelve hours.
But it never seemed to be enough.
When I woke up from my nap, he was already getting ready.
But I continued to lie there because I never wanted to leave this big bed. Never wanted to leave this beautiful room and the man who occupied it.
He came out of the bathroom naked and pulled on a pair of boxers. “My family hosts a big dinner every Sunday. I want you to come.”
“What?”
He ran his fingers through his slightly damp hair as he approached the bed. “Yes.”
“Uh . . .” I sat up in bed, taking the sheets with me so my skin wouldn’t be exposed to the cold air. “I—I don’t know about that.”
“It’s not what you think. Everyone comes to these dinners—friends, family, neighbors. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are thirty or fifty people there. It’s casual.”
“But your family will be there.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” That handsome, somewhat arrogant smirk moved on to his lips as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve brought friends to these all my life. It’s not a big deal.”
“Friends . . . like me?”
He chuckled. “Well, no.”
“And you don’t think that will be a big deal?”
“They already know about you.”
“They do?”
“It’s a small town. Everyone knows each other. So yes, they already know I’ve spent the week with you. My mom has heard about it from about twenty different people.”
I felt like I was under a microscope, under the careful surveillance of cameras and intelligence officers. “Now I understand why you’ve never done this with a woman in Taormina.”
He gave a quiet laugh. “If my mother knew about all my extracurricular activities, she’d take me to an exorcist.”
“Does she know what you do for a living?”
He raised his hand and twisted it left and right, indicating his knowledge was wishy washy. “Yes, but we don’t talk about it. She chooses to pretend it’s not happening. Helps her cope.”
“You really think this is a good idea?”
“I’ve got to go. I haven’t spent as much time with them on this trip as I should have—not that I have any regrets.
” Big and burly, he sat beside me on the bed, his weight making the mattress dip, all of his muscles hard and more like stone than human flesh.
And he had this lightheartedness to his eyes, this contagious energy that drew me in.
“And I don’t want you to spend your last night in Taormina alone. ”
“I’ll be fine—”
“Sweetheart, what are you afraid of? Because I thought you remembered how tough you are.”
“Jumping off a rock is not the same as meeting an Italian mother. They’re vicious.”
He chuckled. “My mother is great, I promise you. There will be great food, wine, and people. It’s the perfect Taormina send-off. One thing my family does well is hospitality. So, just come.”
“You’re sure?” I asked, not wanting to put him in a tough spot.
“Yes.”
“I just don’t want you to be bombarded with a million questions.”
“They’ve already bombarded me. There’s really nothing new they can ask me at this point. So you may as well come and have a good time.”
“Well . . . if you’re sure.”
His hand slid into my hair at the back of my neck, and he tipped my head.
“I’m absolutely sure.” Then he kissed me, kissed me slow and tender, a tantalizing embrace with his soft, full lips.
When he started to lean me back into the bed, I knew he wanted me again.
Not a throw-me-on-the-bed kind of want, but a gentle want, the kind that would take time neither of us had before dinner. But we made time for it anyway.
We took a taxi farther up the mountain above Taormina because there wasn’t a lot of parking in a city like this. We were dropped off outside, and I could see the terrace lit up with a stream of white lights, dozens of people already talking and drinking, music playing over the speakers.
It was a beautiful house, a grand two-story villa with unobstructed views of the sea. “Damn, the restaurant business does well,” I said as I walked to the front door with him, wearing wedged heels with my sundress and jean jacket.
“Not that well,” he said as he walked with me. “I bought this for her.”
“Oh.”
“After putting up with my bullshit all her life, she deserved it.”
“What kind of bullshit?”
“Oh, pretty much anything you can think of.” He opened the front door, that playful smirk on his lips, and he gave me a gentle smack on the ass when I stepped over the threshold.
It was a beautiful entryway with a round table in the center, an enormous vase of flowers atop it.
Other people had already placed their purses and coats on the coat hangers and one of the couches.
The smell of dinner hit us right when we walked in, and just when I thought I was too nervous to have an appetite, the hunger suddenly gnawed at my stomach.
“Beatrice, I told you to turn the arancini. Now they’re going to burn.”
“Ma, I told you I already turned it—twice.”
“Then where is it?” I assumed it was his mother who did the yelling.
Constantine chuckled to himself like he was used to this. “Feels like home.”
“Should we offer to help?” I asked.
“Antonio, where’s the grated lemon?” she yelled. “I told you to leave it here. Where is it?”
Constantine shook his head and guided me to the outdoor terrace. “I think they’ve got it handled.” He stepped through the open doors to the outdoor terrace. Quite a few people were excited to see him, or they were already drunk, because they all lifted their glasses and let out a unified cheer.
The exact same way everyone in town did whenever they saw him.
It was the first time I’d ever had social anxiety in my life.
Constantine was immediately overrun with people giving him hugs and embraces, sharing jokes and pleasantries. “Guys, this is Aurelia.” He didn’t explain further who I was, if I was a friend or something more. But how would he explain to people that I was basically a vacation fuck buddy?
They all seemed thrilled to see me, like I was automatically included in this club just by knowing Constantine.
A bunch of ice chests were scattered on the patio, so he walked over to one. “Sweetheart, what do you want to drink?”
“Water is fine.”
“We don’t have water.”
“You don’t have water?” I asked in mild surprise.
“We aren’t really water-drinking people. How about wine?”
“Sure.”
He grabbed an already uncorked bottle of white wine from a chilled bucket and poured two glasses. A group of guys came up to talk to Constantine, and I recognized one of them from the beach, Francesco.
He greeted me with a tight hug. “Aurelia is cool. She jumped off the rock with us at the beach the other day.”
Constantine introduced me to the rest of the guys, and they all seemed to be first, second, and third cousins. They talked about tennis and football, and they joked they’d heard his mother screaming from the kitchen earlier.
It was definitely casual, and I didn’t feel on display as I’d feared I would be. Looked at as an outsider. Judged for not being pretty enough for Constantine. Because, let’s face it, the guy was way out of my league.
A woman I assumed to be his mother, because her voice sounded the same, stepped onto the terrace. “Dinner is ready.”
Everyone raised their glasses and cheered.
It was definitely the most energetic and festive party I’d ever been to.
People filed into the house, and we joined the line.
His mother was in the hallway when we passed, and her eyes lit up at the sight of Constantine. It reminded me of the way my mother used to look at me, like I was the light of her life, the only thing that mattered.
“My boy.” She hugged him tightly and kissed him on the cheek several times.
“You drunk, Ma?” he asked as she continued to hold on to him. He rubbed her back as she remained buried in his chest, a foot and a half shorter than him. She had to be five feet tall, and I didn’t know how she’d pushed him and his brother out of her special place.
She pulled away without answering the question, and her eyes immediately landed on me, absorbing me with a slightly glossy stare. Analyzing me like every mother did to make sure I was good enough for her son, even though I was just fucking him at the moment. “Oh my god, Con. She’s beautiful.”
“I told you.”