Chapter 18 Aurelia
Aurelia
I parked my motorbike outside, carried my bag that held my camera and lenses on one shoulder, and then grabbed the grocery bag. I did my best to carry it all upstairs in one go. I’d been pickpocketed before, so if I didn’t get everything, then it might not be there when I came back downstairs.
I made it into my apartment and set everything on the counter as my phone vibrated with a text message.
I’ll pick you up for dinner at seven. It was Constantine.
We had no plans tonight, so I wasn’t entirely sure that was intended for me. Maybe he meant to send that to someone else? I texted him back. Think you sent that to the wrong person.
I didn’t, sweetheart.
We didn’t have plans, so that meant he’d just decided this on his own. How do you know I don’t have plans?
Do you have plans?
Well . . . no.
Then dinner it is.
I was a bit annoyed that he just told me what was happening, but I also kinda liked it.
I liked the fact that I didn’t have to think or wonder when I’d see him again.
And if he did reach out, we didn’t have to play that long game of deciding what to do or where to go.
He picked the time, the place, and he picked me.
Truthfully, I had so many edits to get through tonight, and I should be a responsible adult and work on that.
But he was sooooo hot. Like gotta-jump-his-bones-at-the-sight-of-him hot. So, I put my groceries in the fridge and sat down to work to get as much as possible done now, before seven came around.
He picked me up in a collared shirt with his sleeves pushed to the elbows.
He wore black jeans and boots, and his head nearly touched the top of the doorframe.
His shoulders almost touched both of the walls too.
His eyes dropped down at the sight of me as he obviously checked me out—from head to toe.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He hooked his hand around the small of my back and pulled me close to kiss me.
To kiss me so good that I didn’t even want dinner. I just wanted this man spread on a cracker.
He moved his hand underneath my dress and squeezed my ass like routine before he took me by the hand. He walked with me down the stairs, and when we approached the SUV outside, he opened the back door for me and seated me inside before he joined me on the other side.
His hand went to my thigh, and the drive was spent in silence. The two guys in the front didn’t say a word. They didn’t even have the radio on, just dead silence from three enormous men all carrying guns.
I’d never been around guns, so seeing one sticking out of the driver’s side made my heart race a little faster. When I looked in the rearview mirror, I could see the shotguns propped up in the row behind me like this was a SWAT vehicle.
Constantine’s huge hand took up most of my thigh, so when he turned to look at me, I assumed it was because he could feel my quickened pulse. His eyes roamed over my face, checking for the signs of distress I tried so hard to hide. “Pull over. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise.
The guys didn’t say a word, just pulled over like he asked.
Constantine helped me out of the car and took my hand, and we walked together down the sidewalk before we crossed the street and headed down a small side road.
I was in my heels, so I wouldn’t be able to make it far, but it was still better than being in a fully armored vehicle like someone was about to launch a nuke at us.
“Let me know if your heels bother you. I’ll carry you.”
“I’m okay.”
“It’s not much farther.” He didn’t give me a hard time about the quiet scene I’d made in the car. He walked slowly to match my pace, every one of his steps two and a half of mine.
A couple minutes later, we made it to Il Gabriello, a restaurant that was constructed underneath the street.
After a steep walk down the stairs into the cavern, we were taken to a table right next to the curved rock that reached overhead.
Constantine had to be mindful of the walls because he was not built to be underground.
The second we took a seat, he ordered a bottle of wine and still water for the table. He didn’t even look at the menu, like he already knew exactly what he wanted because he’d been there before.
I was still flustered by the ride here. “I’m sorry about—”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s fine.”
I knew he wasn’t just saying that to dismiss the conversation, because he’d always been truthful with me. “I don’t know why it makes me uncomfortable.”
“Because you aren’t used to it,” he said. “I won’t put you in that situation again.”
I didn’t want to ruin the night before it even started, but he seemed to be okay with it. “You already know what you’re getting?”
“The steak with pepper sauce.”
“You really love your steak, don’t you?” I teased.
“This place makes the best steak I’ve ever had.”
“Ever?”
He nodded once. “Ever.”
“Wow, you’re really selling it.”
“Go for it. I would love to buy a woman a steak.”
“You never have?”
“Maybe my mom one time . . .”
The waiter came back with the wine and the water, and Constantine ordered for the two of us, getting each of us a steak and a side of greens and potatoes for us to share. He always took the lead so I didn’t have to say a word.
When the waiter was gone, he turned his complete focus back to me, staring at me intently like we’d never met before. Like he needed to get to know me all over, commit my features to memory, study me like he didn’t know my body underneath the black dress.
“Your mom must really hate that you live here, especially after your brother passed away.”
He didn’t flinch at the mention of his twin. “She was really upset about it, initially. She’s gotten better about it. Or at least she’s gotten better about keeping it to herself.”
“So, she does know . . . what you do?”
He nodded. “The main points, yes. But she’s asked me to spare her whatever details I can—otherwise, she’ll never sleep again.”
“She must be proud of you, though. I would be if you were my son.”
His body remained rigid, but there was a change in his gaze, a hardening of his stare. A hint of a smile crept on to his lips, just a ghost of it, and then it was gone. “I’m glad you feel that way. That’s what I’ve always wanted in a woman.”
I realized I’d shoved my foot into my mouth, made a step toward him that I hadn’t meant to make, a commitment that still seemed out of reach.
“A woman who will always stand by me. A woman who believes in what I do just as much as I do.”
I wasn’t sure if that was me, judging by the way my heart pounded. “You said you would never hire a woman because it’s not a safe environment. So, how does that work with a partner?”
“Because everyone in the Roman Republic is there to serve the Republic—including me. We understand and accept the risks. But my partner is not under the same obligation. She’s not a part of it whatsoever.”
“But based on association—”
“She is my Roman Republic. My Roman Empire. And my first job, before everything else, is to serve and protect her.” We hadn’t even gotten our food yet, and we were already in the thick of it. “I would let Rome burn to the ground before I let anything happen to you, Aurelia.”
Everything was perfect between us, but the more we discussed it, the more I was uncertain what I wanted.
Constantine was the ideal man, and I should be the one begging him to be with me.
But I wasn’t stupid. I knew a life with Constantine would be different from one with someone else.
Full of guns and danger and instability.
And while my heart went wild for this man, my mind continued to question it all.
When he spoke again, his tone was quiet. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“That I’m crazy about you but not crazy about this.” I blurted it out because I couldn’t contain it in my chest for another second. I should be more calculated in my responses, but all of this made me so uneasy that I couldn’t.
“I promise nothing would happen to you.”
“You can’t make a promise like that, Constantine.”
He suddenly looked provoked, as if I’d said the wrong thing. “Yes, I can.”
“You said you don’t like to lie, and if that’s true, then there’s no way you can say that—”
“Yes, I fucking can.”
One step forward. Twenty-five steps back. Over and over. Our relationship worked in Taormina because it was just a summer fling. Maybe we needed to go back to that. Accept that was the only thing that would work between us.
“A lot of people don’t like me. A lot of people want me dead. Me—not you.”
“And I’m the perfect target to hit you where it hurts.”
“You know how pirates have a code among thieves? We also have a code among criminals. We don’t fuck with people’s families. Period.”
“And you trust that every asshole out there is going to stick to the code?” I asked incredulously.
“I believe most would, yes. But I would never let you be in danger, regardless. Would never let you be accessible to the wrong people. If you were mine the way I want you to be, you’d be guarded better than the fucking pope.”
I didn’t want to be guarded like the fucking pope. “Has anything ever happened to your family? Your brother . . . is that why he died—”
“No. And I don’t want to talk about him.”
“I’m not asking you to.” I had no idea what could make him so distant like this. He was never evasive or closed off. An open book. So whatever happened with his brother, whose name I didn’t even know, was serious. “But has anyone ever come for your family—”
“No. My dad died because he drank too much wine and ate too many cold cuts.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
He started to calm down as we steered away from the topic of his brother. “I’ve been the emperor for five years. The four years before that were spent with Cosa Nostra and their partners in Florence.”
So in the five years he’d been doing this, no one had ever tried to hurt his family. “You don’t have anyone there to protect them in case?”
“Cosa Nostra look after them on my behalf.”
“So that’s where you were that night you left.” I’d stayed in the room while he’d left late in the night, not coming back until an hour before morning.
“Yes.”
“Do you pay them?”
“No. We built a close relationship through my years of service. And I’ve also pardoned them from the jurisdiction of the Roman Republic—and as a thank-you, they protect my family.”
“You pardon them?”
“All the criminals throughout the country pay tariffs to the Roman Republic. That’s the price they pay for the operations to continue without impediment by the police.
Sicily was part of the great unification of Italy in 1860, but because they’re technically an island, I was able to get them an exemption. ”
“So, do they traffic and—”
“No. They adhere to my laws. They just don’t pay tariffs.”
His job really was complicated and complex and . . . just a lot.
“I would do the same for you. And if it came down to it, I would fall on the sword, jump on the grenade, take the bullet, whatever it fucking took to keep you safe. My life is dedicated to my country and the people in it, but they all become second to my family—and you.”
This had become heavy so quick. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“No. This problem isn’t going away.”
“Well, I’m not sure if this is a problem I want to have.”
He winced like my words really hurt him.
“I’m not sure if I want to be guarded every hour of every day. I’m not sure if I want every car I get into to be filled with guns. I’m not sure if I want to have a husband who could literally die any day. To have children with a man who could leave them without a father. It’s just . . .”
“That’s the price you pay to be with me—and I promise I’m worth it.”
A wave of guilt washed over me. “I know you are.”
“You don’t need to decide right now. Let’s just see where it goes.”
“The longer I wait, the harder it’s going to be.”
“Sweetheart,” he said calmly. “Let’s just put a pin in it for now.”
The calmer he was, the more panicked I felt.
He didn’t understand the stakes, didn’t understand the depth of implication.
“I’m already falling in love with you, and if I let this go on much longer, I’m never going to be able to leave.
” I said it all in a single breath, needing to get it out but also regretting the fact that I let it out at all.
“So, I do need to decide . . . while I still can.” My eyes shifted away the second I finished speaking, not wanting to see his reaction to what I’d just vomited across the table.
The waiter crossed the room at that moment and placed our dishes in front of us.
Hopefully, that would be enough of an interference that we could both forget what I’d just said.
I watched him leave out of the corner of my eye.
I glanced down at my steak before I found the courage to look at Constantine.
He just sat there . . . and fucking smiled.
Smiled wider than I’d ever seen him. Like this wasn’t the most difficult conversation I’d ever had in my life.
Like my pain was his pleasure. Anyone who watched us across the room would assume I’d said something to make him laugh, judging by that goddamn smirk.
Then as if nothing had happened, he grabbed his fork and knife and cut into his steak. “Good, I’m starving.”