Chapter 6 Aurelia #2
“I don’t know. Not having my mom anymore kinda kills any desire to have a family. It’s not really about her not being able to help me . . . it’s just . . . I don’t really have a reason to do it. I’ve been alone for so long that I’m fine being alone.”
He continued to stare at me like he hoped I might say more.
“I can see why someone like you would want a family, because it’s like adding another person to your team. But starting the team from scratch . . . that doesn’t seem like much fun.”
“But it wouldn’t be from scratch,” he said. “Because you’re doing it with someone else.”
“I guess,” I said. “But I guess I also have the perspective of being raised by a single mom. And it looks pretty fucking hard.”
He was quiet for a while. “I think you’re overthinking it. And I can totally see you being a mom—a good one.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The way you took care of your mom. Being a caretaker is a burden, but you never resented her for it. Loved her to the end, still love her now. And then there’s this big-ass dog here . . .” He stopped when she gave a particularly loud snore. “Most of my guests want her out, but you want her here.”
“Well, it’s her house.”
“The fact that you care about her perspective shows your emotional intelligence and empathy for others. Two important traits when it comes to parenthood. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to have kids—a lot of people don’t—but don’t eliminate yourself from the possibility because you think you wouldn’t be good at it. That’s just not true.”
“I didn’t say I thought I was unfit . . .”
“No, you didn’t,” he said. “But I can tell that’s how you feel.”
How did he do that? How did he know things?
“Your dad took off because it wasn’t for him, so maybe it’s not for you. I get it. I’ve had the same thoughts about myself.” He propped himself on his folded arm, Medusa still between us and snoring quietly. “But if I ever became a father, I know I’d do the best I could.”
“I want to show you something.” He led the way out of the bedroom and into his office, the place that felt more like a library than a study for a single person. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the wall.
It took me a second to realize what had changed.
There was a large opening in the wall above the back of his chair. Some other painting had been there before, but it was gone. The space must have been ten feet by five feet, a spot that still looked tiny compared to the sheer size of the room.
“You got something new?” I asked.
“No, but I have a vision.” He turned to me and clapped his hands together before he massaged his palms. “Boudoir photos of you. One front and center right here. The only other people who come into this room are the maids, so it would just be for me.”
It took me a second to process what he said before I gave a laugh. “Uh . . . you’re mad.”
“Why?”
“Because.” I gestured to all the artwork and collectibles he had in this room. “This place is a museum of history, and you’re going to have scandalous photos of some woman next to it all?”
“Some woman?” he asked. “Oh sweetheart, you aren’t just some woman.
Let me teach you something about private art collections.
They’re not for viewing—they’re for feeling.
Their purpose is to project power, status, and wealth.
Have you ever been to the Vatican Museums?
The pope doesn’t keep that stuff to enjoy it.
It’s to remind every single person who steps into his domain that he’s the most powerful person in the world.
The same is true here.” He turned back to the empty spot on the wall.
“And there’s nothing that makes me feel more powerful than you. ”
Oh Jesus, this man . . .
“So?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Why not?” he pressed.
“Because I think you have a distinct vision of what you want in your head, and I’m just not sexy.”
He released a booming laugh like I was a goddamn comedian.
“You know what I mean. I can’t turn toward a camera and flip my hair and look all sexy.”
“You look sexy right now. You’re doing it right now.”
“Look, I’m supposed to get half naked and do poses and stuff, and I’m better behind the camera rather than in front of it—”
“This is what I want.”
“Well, just because it’s what you want doesn’t mean it’s what you get.”
He smiled at me, but it wasn’t that boyish, charming smile he wore most of the time.
It was that sinister, deadly one that I’d seen a handful of times.
Like the emperor entered the room and Constantine left.
“You said Maximillian Cattaneo was the greatest photographer of your generation, did you not?”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with this?”
“Because I hired him.”
“He’s booked out like a year . . .”
“Not for me.” He continued to wear that hardened gaze, like I’d been outmatched by an opponent who could squash me with the snap of his fingers. “You say he’s the best, but you don’t trust him to do you justice?”
“I’m just not one of those girls.”
“What girls?”
“Someone who can pull this off.”
“There’s no fucking way you don’t know how beautiful you are. I’m not buying this.”
“I’m not saying I’m not beautiful. I’m just saying I’m not model material. Not the kind of woman who needs to be blown up and put on this big-ass wall.”
“Listen to me.” He continued to speak to me in that authoritative tone, like I was one of his men who wouldn’t follow his orders.
“You’re the single most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I saw you across that bar, and my heart was already lodged in my goddamn throat.
That other woman came to the table, and I didn’t give a damn about the easy lay, because I wanted you.
I don’t know what the fuck you see, but I see a fucking empress.
You’re mine, you’re one of my collections, and I want to see you up there every time I walk into the room.
I want you next to my Michelangelo because you’re equal.
So don’t tell me no again, not unless you have a legitimate reason. ”
“What’s a legitimate reason?”
He stared me down for a while. “You don’t trust me.
You don’t think this is going to last, so you don’t want me to have a piece of you.
Something intimate, personal, and, frankly, sacred.
That’s a legitimate reason.” His eyes started to withdraw their hostility, like he was afraid that was my reason all along.
I wanted this to last forever, but it seemed too early to say something so serious, so I said something else instead. “Can I see the photos first and then decide if I’m comfortable with them on your wall?”
The disappointment passed like clouds in the wind. He came back to me, the light returning to his eyes, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Sure, sweetheart.”
He sat behind his desk, taking care of phone calls and emails. I didn’t understand a lot of what he spoke about. He said a lot of people’s names and issued quick orders without details.
I stayed on the couch and worked on my laptop, going through all the edits I thought I would never catch up on. I used to love my work, but now I was working all the time to keep my head above water, and it was starting to kill the passion.
He took another call and seemed to be talking to Rocco, judging by the way he spoke to him differently from everyone else. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, he said that last time.” He leaned back in the chair and shifted his eyes to me.
I felt his stare, so my eyes moved to him.
He continued to stare at me, Rocco talking to him about whatever was going on.
I looked back at the computer, but even after I finished an edit, I could still feel him. So I looked back—and his stare hadn’t changed.
“Tell him if he doesn’t make the switch by midnight, I’ll pay him a visit.
” He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the desk.
Then he was on his feet and coming toward me.
When his hands reached behind his head and he yanked off his shirt, I knew what that stare had been about. “Get your ass over here.”
I’d barely put the laptop on the coffee table when he grabbed me by the ankles and tugged me down the couch. I was in a little sundress, and it immediately rode up when he yanked me toward him.
He undid his jeans and pushed them down enough for his hard cock to spring free.
Then he yanked off my thong and pressed me into the corner of the couch before he shoved himself inside me without giving me even a minute to prepare for it.
“You think you can sit there in that little dress and not expect me to fuck your brains out?” His hand slid into the back of my hair, and he gripped it hard before he slammed into me, nailing me right on the couch like he hadn’t fucked me this morning.
It was hard and rough and fast, and I finished in less than a minute or two. It was just so unexpected, and he was so dominant . . . and a little crazy. He gave a moan when he finished, giving me all of his length even when I winced, like the primal urge took over and he couldn’t control it.
He abruptly withdrew from me, pulled his jeans back on, grabbed his shirt from the floor, and started to put it on as he walked back to his desk—like nothing happened. “Now I can fucking focus.” He sat behind the desk and grabbed his phone again.
I fixed myself up, put my underwear back on, and then sat there and wondered if my panties would be strong enough to stop the dam inside me from breaking free. I put my laptop back on my lap and tried to find the strength to focus, when I heard Constantine take a call.
“Hey, Ma.” He was his jovial self—as if he hadn’t just fucked me like an animal. “You know, same ol’, same ol’. How are Beatrice and the little ones?” He listened for a while before his eyes flicked to me. “Yeah, she’s good.”
I knew she’d just asked about me.
“Medusa has really taken to her.” He listened again, relaxed in the chair, eyes still on me. “You want to talk to her yourself? She’s right here.”
I could actually hear her gasp from the phone all the way over there.
“Yeah, she’s here. I’m working in my office, and she’s doing her photography stuff. Hold on.” He stood up and headed around the desk toward me.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
He stopped in front of me and handed me the phone. “Ma wants to say hi.”
I felt my eyes get so big they were about to burst out of my face.
He smirked then mouthed, “You’ll be fine.”
“I’m scared.”
“You’ll be fine.” He made a fist and put it to his chest just the way he did on the rock in Taormina—telling me to be brave.
I took the phone with a shaky hand. “Hello?”
“Aurelia! Aww, dear, how are you?”
“I’m good,” I said with a shaky voice, still unable to believe I was talking to her. “How are things in paradise?” I suddenly drew a blank, having no idea what her name was. I’d just referred to her as Constantine’s mother. “What’s her name?” I mouthed.
“Sofia,” he mouthed before he sat beside me on the couch.
“It’s beautiful, but the tourists are rampant. We have a line out the door the second we open—fifty people in line!”
“Oh wow, that’s good for business, though.”
“Yes, but it’s crazy all day until we close. Beatrice has been helping me out so much. She’s a great daughter.”
“Yeah, that’s great.”
“But enough about me,” she said. “I want to hear about you.”
“Um . . . just been doing my photography. Shoots here and there.”
“What kind of photography, dear?”
“Weddings, engagement photos, events, stuff like that. I like it, but I’ve been working a lot lately.”
“Oh, I bet my son doesn’t like that,” she said with a slight chuckle.
“Actually, he’s been pretty busy too. But it’s okay because we both have stuff to focus on.”
“Sounds like a match made in heaven.”
“Yeah . . .” Jeez, she was so nice. I felt like she liked me the second I walked in the door. I didn’t have to do anything. I was just accepted without conditions. “I miss Taormina. I love Rome, but I fell in love with your town.”
“Because it’s where you fell in love,” she said affectionately. “It’ll always be special to you now.”
My heart gave a jolt in fear, afraid Constantine heard that, afraid that I made it so obvious that I was utterly spellbound by this man. “I think it’s special because of you too.”
“Aww, you’re so sweet, Aurelia. I can’t wait for you two to come back for a visit. But this time, stay longer. At least a month.”
“I’d love that.”
“Do you mind passing me back to my son? It was nice talking to you, dear.”
“Of course. You too.” I handed the phone back to Constantine.
He took the phone and put it to his ear. “I’ll see when we can come down for a trip—”
“She’s a lovely woman, Con.” Her voice was loud and clear.
Which meant Constantine heard her comment about me falling in love with him in Taormina. Would he assume she was right? Or think nothing of it at all?
He grinned. “I know, Ma.”
“I like that she works, has her own thing, you know.”
“Yeah, I like her passion.”
“Work is important, but it’s never more important than the people in your life. So don’t neglect her, Con. When she calls, you answer. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing.”
“I know, Ma.”
“All right, I’ll let you go, baby. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
She hung up.
He ended the call, then held the phone between both of his palms. “She really likes you.”
“I have no idea why.”
“She knows you’re important to me. I wouldn’t have brought you to the house otherwise.”
My eyes moved to the side of his face, holding on to what he said. “Yeah?”
He slowly turned to look at me, eyes locked on mine. “Yeah.”
The garden in my stomach bloomed even more. The butterflies grew to the size of dragons. My heart suddenly felt weak. “You said that was a casual thing.”
“It was.” Then a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “But I still wouldn’t have brought you unless I thought it would be more than casual . . . at some point.”