Chapter 24 Aurelia
Aurelia
We left the guest bedroom and headed down the hallway until we reached the double doors to his bedchambers.
The doors were fifteen feet high and appeared to be made of solid gold.
The outside was engraved with an image of the Roman Forum as it was believed to have appeared at the time of the ancient Romans.
The Arch of Titus next to Palatine Hill, the temples dedicated to the gods, Roman arches used in every building.
A piece of the Colosseum was also visible in the background.
The door itself must have been worth a million euro.
He opened the door, and the movement was so slow that I could tell it was as heavy as it looked. I studied the series of hinges attached to the wall. Thirty of them to keep the door up.
When we stepped inside, I saw he had an entryway with a table holding a vase of flowers in the center.
The table was brilliant blue and yellow, reminding me of the tables I’d seen all around Taormina, constructed from the stone of Mount Etna.
The table was on top of a bright rug, and the wall behind the table had pictures and paintings from floor to ceiling, arranged in a way that made it appear to be a single piece of art.
I wasn’t ashamed to admit I was intimidated.
I followed behind him and Medusa, moving past a large sitting room with several couches on an expensive rug, with an enormous TV on one wall.
There were two statues in the room, one that appeared to be Venus, goddess of love and beauty, and then Minerva, goddess of wisdom.
I’d noticed statues throughout his residence, pots and paintings, works of art that did not look like replicas.
I trailed behind him, seeing a full dining table that could seat ten people in one room, and then we made it to his actual bedroom, which had a bed that was definitely bigger than a king.
Custom made so he had plenty of room for him and his dog .
. . and his guests. Another smaller sitting area was off to the side of the room near a fireplace with a TV on the wall.
The bed frame had Roman soldiers engraved directly into the wood, and the matching dressers had the same design.
When I peeked into the bathroom, I saw a room with a large shower, a bathtub that was more like a small pool, a private sauna, and two separate vanity counters on opposite sides of the space.
I occasionally rubbed shoulders with wealthy people through work. Saw them arrive at events in Bentleys and Ferraris. Saw their expensive watches, recognized the high-end brands they wore. But I knew I’d never encountered a single person as rich as Constantine. Rich wasn’t even the right word.
I walked to the window and looked outside, seeing the extent of his property.
He had expansive gardens that reached to the wall, and I could see more sections of the building we were in, but he had other, separate buildings too.
One that looked identical to the Pantheon, just on a smaller scale, and then another that looked like the Temple of Saturn from the Roman Forum.
The property itself, in the heart of Rome like this, had to be worth . . . a billion euros.
And it belonged to one man.
“Let’s take a shower and have lunch.”
I turned away from the windows and looked at him. How was this billionaire so . . . so normal? So down to earth? How could someone so rich care enough about other people to put his life on the line? “Uh, sure.”
“Got other plans?” When he moved past the bed, Medusa jumped on it like it was where she slept every night. Constantine absentmindedly petted her, then gave her a kiss on the head—like he did it so often he didn’t think about it.
I’d never had a dog, but seeing the way he treated her made my heart gush. “No.”
“Then why are you being weird?” he asked bluntly as he walked up to me.
“I’m being weird?”
He cocked his head slightly. “A little.”
“Well, if I’m being honest—”
“Always be honest with me. Never mince your words.”
“I guess I’m just a bit overwhelmed by all of this.”
“All of what, exactly?”
“Uh, maybe you’re used to this, but I’m not.”
He cocked his eyebrow.
“You live in a palace. Like, a Roman palace . . .”
When he finally understood my meaning, recognition came into his eyes. “Don’t be intimidated.”
“Hard not to be. Your art collection alone . . .”
“It’s not my collection. It’s my inheritance. Everything you see belonged to my family before it came back into my hands.”
“How did you get it back?”
He shrugged. “Asked for it. And since people want to stay on my good side, they complied.” He smiled before he headed into the bathroom.
“Come on, sweetheart.” He pulled off his shirt along the way, revealing the hard muscles that hugged his spine.
He had been so vicious and cold when I first woke up, but now, he was himself again.
I joined him in the shower and watched him rub the soap into my body.
He felt me everywhere, like I’d been found in the mud instead of in his clean bed.
Both of his hands squeezed my ass before he kissed me, and then he smiled at me as I stood under the falling water, looking at me the way he used to.
We dried off and got dressed, and since I had nothing to wear, he gave me some of his clothes, a pair of sweatpants that I had to roll so they’d stay on my hips and one of his T-shirts.
When we left his room, I felt ridiculous walking around in the hallway dressed like that because I didn’t feel like we were home. It felt like we’d left our hotel room and ventured onto the rest of the property—and I looked homeless.
The rest of his villa was just as grand, every hallway jam-packed with art and sculptures, free of a single sprinkle of dust, even though almost the entire place was probably never touched.
Every floor had very high ceilings, all coffered and outlined in gold and flowers.
I felt completely and utterly out of place.
When we made it downstairs, we walked through the enormous glass doors shaped like a Roman arch, and stepped into the gardens. In the shade of the trees and under a large umbrella was a circular table and four chairs, along with a small vase of flowers.
We took a seat, and then someone immediately came to serve us.
We were given a pitcher of ice water along with a chilled bottle of wine.
A basket of fresh bread and a bowl of marinated green olives were placed on the table.
But we barely had time to eat it before our salads were presented to us, leafy and green with tomatoes and mozzarella and a seared piece of salmon on top.
No one said a word to Constantine. It was like the guys in the car when he’d picked me up. To me, he was just a man I’d met in Taormina, but to everyone else, they either respected him . . . or feared him.
He dropped his linen across his lap and started to eat. “So, what happened last night?”
My morning with him had been so magical, I’d nearly forgotten about the nightmare of last night. I should be debilitated by the memory, but once again, Constantine brought me back to life. “I went out with my friend Cindy. Thought it was supposed to be the two of us until her boyfriend showed up—”
“The one you don’t like.”
“Yeah,” I said. “And he brought his friend. Cindy and Timothée left, and I was stuck with the guy. And when I went to the bathroom, he clearly spiked my drink. I tried to leave, but he insisted on helping me find a cab. It was clearly a setup.”
“Have you talked to Cindy?”
“No.” I hadn’t spoken to anyone.
“You know I have to talk to Timothée, right?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure if he was in on it or not.”
“He might have gotten a kickback. Set up the meeting with the target, and he gets a cut.”
“I really fucking hope not.”
“You got a bad vibe from him for a reason.”
My intuition had been firing off, and I hadn’t listened to it.
“You could have stayed with me like I offered, and maybe none of this would have happened.” His tone dropped like he was angry again.
“Yeah . . . hindsight.” I wished I’d just stayed with Constantine.
I wished I’d just accepted everything that came with the package from the beginning.
There were a lot of things I didn’t love about his line of work, like the fact that he could be killed at any moment, but losing him romantically had felt like a death anyway, so . . .
“I hoped you’ve learned from that hindsight.”
“I have.” I picked at my salad before I took a bite, and it was the best salad I’d ever had.
“Good,” he said. “The entire time, we haven’t been able to actually have a relationship because we’ve been so busy focusing on why it won’t work. Well, you’ve been focused on why it won’t work. I’m excited for us to just be. To see where it goes. To see what it becomes.”
“Yeah, me too.” All the dangers and concerns simply weren’t important anymore. This relationship might get me killed, but I was ready to accept those consequences. I was in too deep now. Dead either way—in a lot of ways. “So, if Timothée was in on it . . . what will happen to him?”
“You know what will happen to him, sweetheart.”
“Even though he didn’t actually hurt or kill anyone, he’s dead?”
“He’s an accomplice to murder, so yeah.”
“I just wasn’t sure how you decided the punishment.”
“I don’t give much leeway for violent crimes,” he said. “You rob a bank, don’t pay your taxes, deal on the street, I don’t care. We might even be friends,” he said with a smile. “But if you’re committing violent crimes against innocent people, you’re done.”
“Yeah . . .”
“And I won’t go easy on Timothée, even if you ask me to.”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t ask. I just . . . feel bad for Cindy.”
“You don’t think she knew?”
“God no,” I said immediately. “She’s a little ditzy sometimes, but she would never participate in that. If she knew he had a hand in this, she’d cut his dick off. No, there’s no chance she knew. But she’ll be heartbroken when she finds out.”
“I could set it up to make it look like he took off, if you want.”
“Yeah, maybe that will be best.”
“All right, I can do that.” He took a few more bites of his salad, then poured water into his glass. He filled my glass as well before he set down the pitcher. “I’ve been trying to find this employer for a while. Hopefully Timothée knows something decent.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything, sweetheart.” He rested his elbows on the armrest and stared at me.
“You’re obviously very wealthy . . .” So wealthy I felt like I’d crossed a line just acknowledging it.
“So, why do this? Why risk your life for people you don’t know?
Why spend so much of your time working, when you could be on a yacht full of supermodels who would gladly take turns sucking sunscreen off your dick? ”
He released a quick and harsh laugh, like he hadn’t expected me to say that.
“That is quite the picture.” His hands came in, his fingers stitching together.
“I believe we all have a personal destiny, and this is mine. President Barsetti rules over the civilians. The pope rules over the church. And I rule over the criminals. We make a tripod, and without one of the legs, we topple over. I’m proud of my history and the roots of my ancestors, and I’m proud of how I serve my country and my people.
Like a painter or a poet, I’m passionate about my work.
And quite frankly, no one can do it better than I can.
Money is important to everyone, but family and purpose are more important. ”
I nodded in agreement.
“I’m lucky I have a job that I would do for free.” He grabbed his wine and took a drink. “But I’m glad I make money hand over fist.” He smiled before he set the glass down, then grabbed his fork again.
“Your residence . . . there’s nothing else like this in Rome.”
“There’s Villa Aurora,” he said. “But yes, this is the largest personal residence in Rome. I didn’t buy it. It was handed down to me, gifted to me from the government in exchange for my service, but also because it was rightfully mine.”
“Then doesn’t that mean your sister and the rest of your family have a claim to it?”
“Yes, but they didn’t want it. Their lives are in Taormina, and they aren’t leaving for anything—which I respect.”
I’d felt like I knew him before, but now, I really knew him.
I knew a version of him that had gone incognito for a while.
I finally saw behind the curtain and everything that was off the stage.
I’d met this man in Taormina and expected one night together.
But that one night had turned into a week . . . and then beyond.
“You’re pulling away again.”
My eyes flicked back to his. “I’m not.”
“I can feel you growing distant.” He had unparalleled intuition, reading me even at times when I had nothing on display.
“I’m just . . . intimidated by you.”
“Intimidated?” he asked incredulously and with a smile. “Sweetheart, you’ve got nothing to be intimidated by.”
“I feel like I’m sitting in the presence of a real emperor.” I was in modern times, but I felt like I was in ancient Rome, somehow getting the attention of the Roman Emperor. Becoming ensnared as his obsession . . . inexplicably.
“You are in the presence of a real emperor,” he said seriously. “Emperor Constantine II. But of all people in the world, you should be intimidated by me the least.”
“Why?”
He stared at me for a long time, eyes focused and stern, seeing something on my face that I couldn’t.
“Because you know the guy who jumped off the rock in Taormina with his friends. You know the guy who helps his mom with dinner in the kitchen. You know the guy who’s just like everyone else. Because you know me for me.”