Chapter 8 Aurelia
Aurelia
When he stepped out of the shower, he got dressed in a hurry. “Free on Sunday?”
“I have a shoot in the morning.”
“Cancel it.”
“Sorry, what?”
“The pope is holding a special mass on Sunday. I want you to come with me.”
“You’re—you’re invited?”
“Yes.”
I thought only world leaders were invited to that sort of thing. “Uh . . . are you sure?”
“Am I sure I’m invited?” he asked with a slight smirk. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“No, are you sure you want me to come with you?”
“Of course.”
“What—what am I going to wear?”
“Stick to black and you’re set.”
I felt like I was about to burst with excitement and utter terror.
“Why are you so nervous?”
“Because it’s the fucking pope.”
He gave a laugh before he slipped on his watch and clasped it shut. “He’s human just like everyone else, sweetheart.”
“How do you know him again?”
“Well, one of my responsibilities is to protect him.”
“Doesn’t he have his own security team?”
“He does, but who do you think gives them intel?” he asked before he pulled on a T-shirt. “And who do you think is the reason people are too scared to fuck with him?” He jabbed his thumb into his chest. “And he’s also my uncle.”
“What?”
“Many, many times removed,” he said. “But that’s just how Roman families are . . . always connected.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Sweetheart, don’t overthink it. He knows what I do and he still likes me, so he’ll sure as hell like you.
” He came to me and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.
“I’ve got to go. Come over Saturday night so we can leave for mass together in the morning.
” He gave me a smack on the ass. “Bye, sweetheart.”
“Bye.”
I went shopping and found a modest black dress and a jacket to wear for mass.
It went down to my ankles and was by far the most conservative outfit I’d ever bought.
But the last thing I wanted to do was embarrass Constantine.
I knew he preferred my dresses that barely covered anything, but this was probably more appropriate for mass on a religious holiday.
On Saturday night, I drove my motorbike over, and as always, he met me out front. He wore that boyish grin that always made me weak in the knees. His eyes lit up like it was Christmas . . . and I was the biggest present under the tree.
Even when Enzo and I were happy together, I wasn’t sure if he’d ever looked at me like that.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Constantine kissed me, then took my bag out of my hands. “Ever think about driving a car?”
“I used to,” I said as I walked with him. “But I was late to every appointment. I mean, literally every single one.”
He chuckled and walked with me inside. “You look so damn cute riding around on it, but I worry every time you head over here.”
“I’ll be fine, Constantine.”
“My driver can take you wherever you need to go.”
As ludicrous as it sounded, I knew it was a legitimate offer. “I’m okay.”
“Rocco is coming over for dinner. Bringing a friend. Is that okay?”
“Of course it is.” He didn’t need to ask my permission to have someone in his house. “Who’s the friend?”
He shrugged. “Could be anyone.”
“Is he coming to mass tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“You think he’s bringing this friend of his?”
“No,” he said as he shook his head. “Mass with the pope is more of a serious-relationship type of event.”
I loved hearing him describe us as serious.
That he wasn’t afraid to show his cards, that he didn’t play games, that he just told me where he stood instead of making me have to guess.
Most guys would try to keep it casual as long as possible before they were forced to slap on a label. Not Constantine . . . at least with me.
We made it to his bedroom.
“Find something to wear?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I pulled out the dress and jacket from my bag and hung them up in the closet.
He stared at it, cocked an eyebrow, and then looked at me. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“You look like a nun.”
“Well, it’s the pope. There’s a strict dress code in the Vatican.”
“Sure, but this dress goes to your ankles. And a jacket? It’s ninety degrees outside.”
“The dress doesn’t have sleeves—”
“You just need to cover your shoulders, not your whole arm.”
“Look, I spent a lot of time trying to find something appropriate, so this is what I’m wearing. Deal with it.”
He smirked. “Yes, Sister.”
I gave him a playful smack on the arm.
“Never fucked a nun before . . . that’s a first.”
“Oh, shut up,” I said as I smacked him again, trying not to laugh.
“Well, to make up for it, I want you to dress slutty tonight. Lots of ass and boobage.”
“You want my tits hanging out in front of your friend?”
“Yep. I’m proud of those tits.”
I rolled my eyes, but there was something endearing about what he said. “Would you say Rocco is your best friend?”
“No.”
“He’s not?” I asked in surprise. “Then what is he?”
“What do you mean, what is he? He’s Rocco.”
“Okay . . . is he your closest friend?”
“What does it matter?” he asked.
“It doesn’t. But I think he’s your best friend, but you won’t say he’s your best friend for some reason.”
“Because guys don’t talk like that, sweetheart.”
“Since when have you been most guys?” I asked.
He pulled out his phone when he got a text. “He’s downstairs. The girl’s name is Becca.”
“All right, let me get changed.” I hung up the rest of my stuff in his closet and found a little black dress that had a little lining over the chest to hide my nipples so I wouldn’t have to wear a bra.
The dress went up higher on one side than the other, showing more of my right thigh than my left.
I slipped on my black heels to go with it, and I would ask Constantine to carry me downstairs so my feet wouldn’t kill me fifteen minutes into the night.
When I was finished getting ready, he stared at me. Stared at me hard. “Can’t wait to fuck you in the ass, sweetheart.”
I heard what he said but didn’t take in a word of it. “Excuse me . . . what?”
That smug smirk moved over his lips. “You heard me.”
We had dinner outside on his terrace, farther into the yard and away from the main part of the villa, hidden from the world in a perfectly manicured garden. The light left the sky, but the outdoor lighting made it plenty bright.
We had dinner and wine, and Rocco and Constantine did most of the talking. Becca was quiet, but she was touchy-feely with Rocco, her hand either on his arm or on his thigh under the table. I could tell by the way she leaned into him.
The subject of mass came up. “You should see the dress Aurelia wants to wear tomorrow,” Constantine said. “She looks like a fucking nun.”
I shook my head. “It’s the fucking pope. You’re supposed to look like a nun.”
Rocco gave a chuckle. “I look forward to seeing it tomorrow.”
“Where’s the restroom?” Becca asked.
Constantine put his fingers in his mouth and gave a quick whistle. One of the staff came over like she knew what that whistle meant. “Could you escort Becca to the bathroom? It’s too complicated for directions.”
Becca left with the staff member, and then it was just the three of us.
“Becca is really pretty,” I said.
“Yeah,” Rocco said noncommittally.
“You guys together or . . . ?”
He gave a shrug. “Just a situationship. Sometimes we see each other, sometimes we don’t.” He took a drink of his wine. He was a lot more closed off than Constantine. Said very little. Showed almost no emotion.
“I asked Constantine if you were his best friend, and he said he didn’t want to put a label on it.”
Rocco’s eyebrows furrowed like he was about to laugh, then he looked at Constantine. “That true?”
Constantine moved his hand to my thigh under the table and gave me a playful squeeze. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus, sweetheart.”
Rocco continued to stare him down. “Answer the question.”
“Of course you’re my best friend,” he said. “Jesus.”
Rocco switched his gaze to me. “You know how many times he’s told me I’m his best friend?”
“Just trying not to sound like a pussy in front of my girl,” Constantine said as he shook his head. “Jeez.”
“Well, I think it’s cute if you call him your best friend.” My hand moved to his thigh under the table, purposely close to his happy place.
“Yeah?” Constantine asked with a grin.
“Yeah.”
“We did shower together that one time at the gym,” he said.
Rocco released a loud laugh. “Wow, you’re really going to tell her about that?”
“Ooh, I want to know everything.” Two sexy naked dudes in the shower together. Goddamn.
“It was years ago,” Constantine said. “We worked out together, but all the showers except one were broken, so . . .” He gave a guilty shrug. “It was one of those rooms where there’re shower heads everywhere.”
“Like in prison?” I asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle. “You could say that.”
“Oh my god, that’s so hot.”
Constantine wasn’t the least bit offended by or jealous because of the comment. “Yep, definitely best friends after that.”
“We’d have to be to pull that off and still talk to each other,” Rocco said.
“And not fuck each other.” I smirked as I looked at the two of them.
“Con is a very good-looking man but not my type,” Rocco said before he took another drink of his wine.
“Becca is a lucky woman, but yeah, I definitely prefer you.” His fingers started to slide underneath my dress to my panties beneath. “All that ass and boobage . . . and those eyes are killer.”
“Did you mean to say eyes?” Rocco teased. “Or something else . . .”
Constantine rolled his eyes but didn’t rise to the taunt.
I was certain they talked about me when I wasn’t around, but it didn’t bother me. Even if Constantine shared every little detail describing my body and our intimacy, it still wouldn’t bother me.
Becca returned from the bathroom. “So what did you guys talk about while I was gone?”
“The time that Constantine and Rocco showered together,” I said.
Her eyes snapped wide open, and she looked at Constantine and then at Rocco. “Got any pictures or . . . ?”