Chapter 23 Aurelia
Aurelia
When Constantine said he would meet at the house, I wasn’t sure which house he meant. His or mine.
But when the driver pulled behind a colossal gate and we arrived at a villa I could only describe as a palace, I knew he meant his residence.
Security was stationed on the property, on either side of the enormous thirty-foot doorway, near the potted olive trees and along the solid wall that separated his private home from the rest of the bustling city.
The doctor came around the other side and helped me out of the car because I was still weak. I felt like ash was burning in my body. My muscles didn’t respond to commands the same way, and I could never really catch my breath. My lungs’ need for air was simply out of sync with what my body needed.
Security opened the double doors, and I stepped into a whole different world.
An entryway guarded by two Egyptian statues of the god Anubis.
They were enormous and flanked the short staircase that led to the next part of the house.
The expansive room had a long table in the center, which held another sculpture of the Eye of Horus.
And the walls were covered in paintings and artwork, and the floor-to-ceiling window on one side showed some kind of garden space.
I didn’t have time to take it all in because the doctor continued forward up the stairs onto the next level, which was another greeting area that branched off to several different spaces, a grand dining room to the left and a sitting area that looked like it was used frequently, despite the fact that it was lavishly decorated.
A man in a black tuxedo appeared, in his early fifties, his dark hair combed back. “His Highness just informed me of the situation.”
His Highness?
The man in the tuxedo approached me and gave a slight bow.
“I’m Elio, butler to Constantine and the caretaker of this home.
Let me guide you upstairs so you can rest. This way.
” He took the lead up a large staircase, and when I said large, I meant five people could walk side by side all the way up.
He guided me to the third level of the villa, and every floor had incredibly high ceilings.
Statues erected in hallways, artwork on the walls, vases of real flowers.
I felt like I was in the residence of royalty.
Elio escorted me to a private bedroom, one that had a king-size bed, a private living room, and its own bathroom.
Every room in this house probably had its own bathroom.
The doctor guided me to an armchair and then opened his bag to get to work. “How are you feeling?”
“Better . . . but still pretty fucking terrible.”
“The drugs they gave you are supposed to make you brain dead.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry, I was able to prevent that from happening. But you’re going to feel unwell for at least several days.” He took my heart rate and other vitals. “I’m going to give you something to put you to sleep. You’re going to need to rest so your body can fight the effects quicker.”
I wanted to talk to Constantine, but I didn’t know when he’d be back. “Okay.”
He grabbed another vial and a needle and gave me a shot. “I can help you get into bed.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve got it.” I kicked off my shoes, then moved to the bed, fully prepared to take off my dress and sleep in just my underwear.
I already felt the medication start to kick in.
He helped me pull the covers back and tucked me inside.
“Here’s your phone.” I’d lost track of it, but Con or Rocco must have taken it back from the would-be kidnappers.
The doctor set it on the nightstand. “Feel better soon.”
I was asleep before he left the room.
As I woke up, I was aware of the daylight piercing the closed curtains and my eyelids. It took me a moment to stir, to realize I felt well, that the sickly feeling of poison had dissolved from my bloodstream.
I was on my side, and when I cracked my eyes open, I came face-to-face with dark eyes.
But not the dark eyes of Constantine. There was fur and a long snout .
. . and the smell of dog. I blinked several times, watching the German shepherd study me like I was a little mouse they were about to pounce on.
Then I remembered who she was—Medusa.
“Hey, babe . . .” My voice was raspy and cracked, and my arm felt weak as I lifted it and petted the side of her cheek. “Nice to meet you.”
She dipped her head and licked my cheek.
I chuckled as I felt the streak of saliva from the swipe of her tongue.
“Settle down, baby girl.” Constantine’s voice was quiet and commanding but with a hint of affection, and it came from somewhere behind me.
Medusa hopped off the bed, and I saw her tail over the edge of the duvet as she walked around and out of sight.
When I realized he was there with me, my entire body went still. I’d been so calm just seconds ago, but now, I was rigid and on high alert. I lay there for a second before I forced myself up, forced myself against the padded headboard.
He sat in an armchair a short distance away, in the same clothes as the last time I saw him, minus the tactical vest. He was wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his knees wide apart, and his arms were sprawled across the armrests—like a king on his throne. “You all right?”
“Yeah. I feel a lot better than I did yesterday.” I was in nothing but my bra and underwear, but he’d seen me in less, so I didn’t care what was on display.
He stared me down through a veil of coldness. “Still wish I were normal?” It was a cutting jab, and I could tell he’d been sitting on that for as long as he’d sat there, maybe for hours. His eyes weren’t full of relief that I’d come out of this mostly unscathed.
Just emotionally disturbed.
Whatever hope I’d had that this event could change things between us was gone. He didn’t look at me the same. He was still mad as hell . . . clearly. So mad, I didn’t bother to apologize again. As much as I wanted Constantine, would want him the rest of my life, I knew it was done.
I was devastated . . . and defeated. “Thank you . . . for saving me.”
“It’s what I do.”
I gave a slow nod, realizing I wasn’t special, that he would have done that for any woman who called.
He was as invested in my well-being as a stranger off the street.
I pulled the covers back and got out of bed.
I retrieved the dress from the other chair and started to get dressed so I could leave.
“What are you doing?”
“I should get home.” I wanted to beg for another chance, but I respected him too much to waste his time. His mind was clearly made up, there was a queue of women ready to replace me, and whatever we’d had was dead.
Because I’d killed it.
“What’s the rush?” he asked as he watched me. “Take a second.”
I pulled the dress over my head, then slipped on the heels.
“I’m fine.” I stopped looking directly at him.
It was the last time I would ever see him, and I couldn’t look at him.
I didn’t want the memory, didn’t want to carry that sad image in my head for the rest of my life.
“Thank you . . . again.” I moved for the door, a little wobbly in my heels.
He blocked my path—like a broken tree that had fallen across the road in a storm.
I felt myself take a harsh breath, not out of fear, but out of some misguided hope.
“Sit.” He nodded to the other armchair.
The room was more like a suite in a hotel room than an actual bedroom. Basically an apartment within a villa. With my exit barred by the humongous mountain, I was forced to take a step back and comply with the demand.
I sat and crossed my legs, painfully aware that I looked like I’d been hit by a car.
My makeup must have been a complete mess.
My knees were all scraped up from trying to get free of Pierre and his cronies.
I looked at the rumpled bed where I’d slept all night and then at the floor, where Medusa lay with her chin resting on her paws.
I looked at anything but him.
He stared at the side of my face for minutes, like he expected me to be the one to speak. “I’m the one who’s angry, but you can’t get out of here fast enough.”
“Yes, because you still hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Whatever. You know what I mean. You want nothing to do with me, and I’ve blown up your phone for the last ten days and never got a reply.
Your message is pretty clear, and I don’t want to waste more of your time.
” I still wouldn’t look at him, because it felt like a goodbye.
A goodbye from my eyes to his. “I thought maybe there was a chance something had changed because . . . I could have died, but it’s clear nothing has changed. ”
“I shouldn’t have made that last jab,” he said. “It just slipped out.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“No, it was pretty fucked up, considering everything you’ve just been through.”
I stared at a painting across the room, some kind of colored sketch of the Roman Forum.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
Sweetheart. I never thought he’d call me that again. Hope blossomed in my chest, and I turned to him.
All the anger and resentment left his eyes.
“This time apart has given me some perspective on the whole thing. And I fucked up too. I broke down your door with my toxic masculinity and set the place on fire. If I’d never done that, I’m sure you and Enzo would have finished an unremarkable conversation, he would have left, and that would have been the end of it.
But I went in there like a psychopath . . . and provoked you.”
I did not expect to hear him take accountability for anything. “I still shouldn’t have said that—”
“Yeah, it still bothers me. But you did say previously that you would be proud if I were your son, so I don’t think you fully meant what you said.
Just partially. But partially is still enough to wound me.
Now that you’ve had firsthand experience with what I do, I’m sure you can figure out why I felt that way. ”
I gave a nod. “Yeah.”
He sat there, arms relaxed on the armrests, knees wide apart.
His eyes moved elsewhere for several heartbeats before he spoke again.
“I’ve had a rough time since I walked away.
When I’m angry like that, it’s usually pretty easy for me to forget the person ever existed.
But I spent a lot of time on the couch with Medusa, and she could tell I was hurt.
She kept looking at me like I had an injury that she couldn’t find. ”
My heart ached in pain but also ballooned in hope. Hope that I would get this man back.
“Something about me that you may have already figured out—I don’t do second chances. If someone betrays you once, they’ll betray you twice. But because I’m also at fault here, I don’t think that applies to us.”
My heart raced like I was at a full sprint rather than seated in a cushioned chair.
“And even if that weren’t the case, my feelings for you haven’t changed.”
It was happening. Really happening.
“But I need some time to get to where we were before. Because I’ve been all in since the day we met, and I’m tired of the constant back-and-forth, tired of you being unsure if you can handle everything my life entails. So take some time to think about it—”
“I don’t need to think about it, Constantine.”
His entire body went still as he stared at me.
“I’m in.”
“You are?”
“Yes. For better or worse. Whatever comes our way.”
He studied me for a while longer. “Just so we’re clear, this is it.
I will die in the line of duty, or I’ll be lucky enough to live long enough to retire.
I will never step down from this position, regardless of the threat it brings to either of us.
If I ever marry, it will be to a woman who understands that this is bigger than both of us.
I will never walk away from this, not for her or any children we may have.
So if you think that, in time, my priorities will change, they won’t.
If you think if we ever have kids I’ll walk away, I won’t.
I’ve been delicate and patient with you these last few weeks, because goddamn, I’ve never wanted a woman more.
But that leniency is over. You’re either in this with me fully—or you walk away now. ”
That speech should have scared me off, but I knew a life without Constantine was far worse. “I’m ready to be tough.”
His stare remained hard, but a hint of a smile moved onto his lips. “Attagirl.”
I couldn’t keep my distance for another moment.
I launched out of the chair and into his lap, my arms circling his neck as I brought my mouth to his lips and kissed him.
Kissed him like I only had in my dreams. I felt his hard chest against mine like a wall of bricks, and I was reminded that this was real. Not wishful thinking. Not a fantasy.
He slid one hand into the back of my hair while his other hand went to my ass. He tugged up the dress, then grabbed one of my cheeks and squeezed it hard before he gave it a hard smack and let the dress fall back into place. He was on his feet a moment later, carrying me with him to the bed.
Oh my god, I couldn’t believe this was real.
He set me down on the edge, then yanked his shirt over his head.
“Oh yes . . .” It was like he was already inside me.
He smirked as he worked his jeans. “Missed me, sweetheart?”
“Uh-huh.” I practically drooled at the sight of him.
When he was naked, he slipped off my heels, then yanked my dress to my waist before he grabbed my thong and pulled it free.
I hadn’t shaved in over a week because I hadn’t expected anyone to see me naked. My dark hair was everywhere, an unmanicured mess. The heat left my lungs as the embarrassment filled me like a balloon.
He grabbed the tops of my thighs, then tugged my ass to the edge of the bed.
“Sweetheart, I’m not picky.” He slid his hand underneath my back, and he lifted me to his hips, the height of the bed too short for his six and a half feet.
He guided me onto his length instead of pushing himself inside me, and I sealed him nice and tight.
He moaned like the only thing around his dick in the last ten days was his hand.
“Fuck, I missed this pussy.” He sheathed himself, then yanked up my dress to reveal my tits.
His enormous hand gripped my side, his thumb over my belly button with his fingers over my hip.
He thrust his hips and pulled me into him, nailing me at the edge of the bed, giving me his whole length like he wasn’t in the mood to be considerate.
Every time he thrust too far, it hurt, but it was the best pain I’d ever felt. “Constantine . . .”
“Missed this dick?” he asked, pushing into me and making me wince with every thrust.
“Yes.”
“Show me how much you missed it.” He pulled me a little closer, ramming me harder than he ever had.
I should have cried out in pain, but I started to come instead. “Constantine . . . god . . . yes.”