Chapter 7 Aurelia
Aurelia
Constantine picked me up and took me to the Hassler Hotel. At the top of the building was a spectacular rooftop bar, and we had one of the tables right at the edge, the entire city of Rome in view.
“Wow, I’ve never seen the city like this before.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty great.” He wore a button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled to his elbows and dark jeans. He’d combed his hair a little differently and shaved his jawline, so he cleaned up really nice.
We ordered our drinks, and then we were given a plate of appetizers, warm bread with tomato ragù, green olives, and potato chips. He was relaxed in his chair, the tables behind him full of people who were completely oblivious to the man just as powerful as the president and the pope.
He looked through the glass balustrade and studied the city—as if it was all his.
“What do you like more? Rome or Taormina?”
“What a fucked-up question,” he said with a laugh. “That’s like asking my mom which one of her children is her favorite. It’s me, obviously, but who’s gonna make her say it outright?”
I chuckled. “You really think it’s you?”
“Oh, one hundred fucking percent.”
I laughed, even though I wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not.
He finished off his drink. Took his phone out of his pocket and left it on the table. “Gonna use the restroom, then we’ll head to dinner.”
“All right.”
He left the table and walked out of sight—and I stared at his muscled figure until he left.
How in the fucking hell was this man mine?
I sat there and admired the view of the city, wanting to pinch myself because my reality was every woman’s dream. A man who fought crime with crime, who could have any woman he wanted, but he was satisfied committing to me—
His phone vibrated on the table, and my natural instinct was to glance at it. My phone always went off with texts from clients asking for their photos or asking to schedule a shoot. Even though I knew it was his phone instead of mine, my eyes still went there.
And I would have looked away immediately if it weren’t for the name on top of the screen.
Lila
He put her name with emojis?
And then her message read, Are you free tonight?
I was sick to my stomach. Like, gonna-throw-up-my-drink-all-over-the-table sick.
A minute ago, I was living the high life, and now it came crashing down like the meteor strike that killed the dinosaurs.
I wasn’t just jealous. I was . . . out-of-my-mind pissed off.
Not at him, because I didn’t know the context of the conversation or why her name was decorated with emojis, but it made me irate.
I had to remind myself not to ruin this by throwing out accusations.
Needed to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he’d become my moon, sun, and stars.
But fuck, I felt low. They were obviously close if she had fucking eggplant emojis around her name, and he obviously hadn’t mentioned me to her if she texted him that.
Chill, girl. Fucking chill . . .
Constantine made his way back to the table, and when he took a seat, he made the check gesture to the waiter.
He opened his wallet and pulled out a hundred-euro bill and left it on the table—probably as a tip.
Whenever we went anywhere, he tipped like crazy, even in a culture where people didn’t tip.
When the waiter brought the bill, Constantine stuffed several bills inside, leaving the hundred on the table. Then he looked at me—and he knew.
I forced a smile, and it took all my strength to pretend like everything was fine.
It must have been a pretty bad smile, because he cocked an eyebrow. “You look mad as hell.”
Was I red in the face? “No, I’m just hungry.”
He continued to stare at me like he didn’t believe a word I said. “Sweetheart, what happened in the two minutes I was gone? Someone say something to you?”
“No, nothing is wrong—”
“Don’t lie to me.” His tone turned callous in a heartbeat. “I don’t lie to you. Don’t lie to me.”
“Fine. I don’t want to talk about it. Now let’s go.”
“Why don’t you want to talk about it?”
“Because I don’t.”
“So you’re just gonna be pissed off for the rest of the night?” he asked incredulously. “You’re obviously angry at me. Otherwise, you would just tell me. So give it to me straight.” His elbows moved to the table, and he leaned closer to me, his hands coming together.
I was about to ruin this, but I was so insanely jealous I couldn’t think straight. “You got a text.”
“A text?” He said it like he couldn’t believe something that popped up on his phone prompted all this. He tapped his finger on the screen, and right at the top was Lila’s text . . . with the eggplant emojis. “Ah, I understand now.”
“What’s with all the emojis?” I shouldn’t ask, but the words were out of my mouth before I could restrain them.
He smirked slightly. “She’s got a dick-sucking fetish. And she’s pretty good at it.”
I really was going to be sick.
“She and I have had a long-term casual hookup, booty-call type of situationship.”
“Oh.” I wanted to grab his phone and chuck it over the edge.
He studied my face. “Sweetheart, don’t ask questions if you don’t want the answers.” He opened the message box and turned it around so I could read their conversation.
I didn’t look at it, eyes still on him. “You don’t need to show me.”
“I have nothing to hide.” He tapped his fingers on the table to get me to look down. “I told her about you when we met in Taormina. She texted me and asked to hook up, and I told her I was seeing someone.”
I still wouldn’t look at the screen, too embarrassed.
“Sweetheart, look.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not going to violate your privacy.”
“The only people who ask for privacy are people who have shit to hide. I love the opportunity to clarify and explain, because I live an honorable life. Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you.
My passcode is 2425. You’re welcome to go through my phone whenever the fuck you feel like it. It doesn’t bother me.”
“But doesn’t that imply I don’t trust you?”
“If you don’t trust me or you feel insecure, then that’s entirely on me.
If you feel that way, then I fucked up. Don’t ever let anyone make that argument to you, because that’s just fucking gaslighting.
The second you suspect them of foul play, they make you feel like the asshole for suspecting them—when they are the ones lying and sneaking.
The second you ask to see their phone and they say you’re a shit person for needing to look, then they have something to hide.
Because any honest person would jump at the opportunity to show you how honest, loyal, and committed they are. ”
“You talk like . . . you’ve been cheated on.”
“I haven’t been cheated on,” he said calmly.
“But my ex-brother-in-law pulled all the tricks on my sister, and she didn’t listen to me.
Now she’s a single mom, and he’s doing god knows what.
” He set the phone in front of me, then relaxed in his chair.
“I fucking hate cheaters and liars. They destroy lives.”
I looked down at the phone again and then scrolled back. He did text her a month ago. Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a woman now.
Yeah? Tell me about her.
He never texted back.
Then she texted him again just now, out of the blue.
I returned the phone to the center of the table so he could take it.
“I think she texted today because she assumed it had fizzled out by now.” He grabbed the phone and typed a message and sent it before he put the phone back in front of me. It’s gotten serious, and I’m fucking crazy about her. Don’t text me again.
I felt embarrassed, but I was more relieved than ashamed. A little PTSD from Enzo coming to the surface. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t you dare apologize.” He extended his hand. “Give me your phone.”
I blinked several times before I reached for it in my purse and handed it over.
He grabbed his phone and put them side by side on the table.
I had no idea what he was about to do.
Then I watched him share his location with me and had my phone share my location with him.
He returned the phone to me. “Ready to go? I’m starving.”
“Yeah . . . me too.”
When we stepped into his corridor, I came to a halt.
“I’ll die if I walk any farther in these.” I bent down to undo the little straps on my stilettos. They were so cute, black, and sparkly, but god, they hurt like a bitch.
I was suddenly lifted off the floor, scooped into his arms like he was a caveman, and then he carried me down the hallway with my ass peeking out from underneath my dress. “That works too.”
He carried me into his bedroom. Medusa was already asleep on the couch, but she came over when he carried me inside. He didn’t stop to pay attention to her like he normally did. He took me to the edge of the bed and placed me on the mattress before he pulled my thong free.
Got right to the point.
He hooked my legs over his shoulders to prop them up as he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the floor.
Then he undid his jeans and lowered his bottoms until they fell to his knees.
His big hands adjusted me into position, and he sank into me, taking up all the space inside me as he moved farther in.
I gasped when he hit the end, when I felt the fullness no other man had ever given me.
His fingers moved around the back of my neck, and he gripped me as he started to thrust into me, quick and even, his eyes possessive and maniacal, like he was the one who’d seen an old hookup text my phone.
He slipped his thumb into my mouth over my tongue while his other arm held my leg in place.
“Why the fuck would I want anyone else when I have you?”