Chapter 3
Constantine
Present Day
I could sell you a pack of lies and tell you I’m a good guy. I could say I’m a pillar of the community and always do right by everyone. I could say I don’t lie, cheat, or steal.
I’m sure you’d gobble up these lies, like soup on a wintry day. You’d believe the lies because humans want to believe people are inherently good.
They’re really not. I’m not a good guy. In fact, I’m a criminal in every sense of the word.
A gold-encrusted chandelier hangs from the ceiling, every bit as gaudy as the women standing around me, as I move through this elegant event feeling like an imposter.
Don Amato loves showing off his money, and it’s a lavish party that only he could throw.
Champagne flows from expensive bottles at the bar, and a cacophony of fake laughter drifts through the air.
It would disappoint Don to know all this luxury isn’t what has my attention tonight. My eyes aren’t glued to the gold-and-white flowers that adorn each of the high top tables surrounding the bar. My ears aren’t listening to the orchestra playing bullshit classical music. And my dick certainly isn’t rising for the caviar and cream tartlets being passed around on silver platters. Nope.
As I stand here in my black Armani suit, pretending I belong, the voluptuous curves of Bianca Amato have all my attention.
She’s grown up.
Damn.
No longer the adorable girl who used to sit with me under a blanket of stars, but now a powerful woman, commanding the room with just the sway of her hips.
Her body’s filled out in all the ways that matter to a man like me. I could feast on her flesh and never tire of it. Her brown hair has grown longer, flowing in dark waves down her back. Not in the ponytail she always insisted on wearing when we were kids.
The silky red dress she wears hugs every curve of her delicious body, showcasing her ample breasts and generous ass.
Her golden skin is too inviting as she stands at the edge of the room, hanging on her father’s every word.
I remember a time when she hung on my every word. Even though it’s only been ten years, it feels like a million years ago.
I’m a different person, and I don’t think Bianca would care for the words that come out of my mouth now.
A muscular man in a gray suit stands next to her. Gino. His hand touches the small of her back, and the sight makes my heart pulse with rage. No one should touch her like that. Not even me.
I stalk a few feet closer, not yet making my presence known. It’s been a long time since I’ve been face to face with Bianca Amato. A long time indeed.
Will she be glad to see me? Or will she scowl in my direction?
I’ve fantasized about this meeting a thousand times.
Me.
Her.
Alone.
Every time ends with me fisting my hard cock until the raging thoughts of her subside.
Gino steps closer, leaning in to whisper something in her ear.
Fury grows.
I stride to the bar in the room’s corner, needing a drink before I approach her.
I imagined the words I would say to her when I saw her again. Now nothing seems right. It’s been ten years since I’ve seen the blush that bloomed on her cheeks every time I shot her a smile.
I wonder if I touch her cheek, if it would blossom with the pink I always admired so much. Would her heartbeat race? Would she want me to keep touching her?
Or would she turn me away like she never does in my dreams?
There’s only one way to find out.
“A whiskey sour,” I say to the bartender.
What? Did you think because I’m a pirate I’d order a rum? There are many misconceptions about a pirate in the 21st century.
I don’t have a wooden leg.
I don’t have a parrot that sits on my shoulder.
And I don’t say ‘argh’ whenever I get upset.
Times have changed, and piracy has evolved. I run a fleet of ships that intercept shipping vessels in the Indian Ocean and take what we want.
“Nice night,” a man says next to me.
I spin around to face Gino. “It is a nice night.”
For a kidnapping.
“I’m Gino Valucci.” He says his name in a way that implies he doesn’t recognize me.
I laugh. Quick and short. This motherfucker was touching my girl. I should punch him… again.
“Constantine Gold.”
Recognition dawns, and he looks me over, assessing me, judging whether I’m competition. He decides I am. Rightfully so. “What are you doing here?” I hear the fear in his voice, like he’s afraid I’ve come to stir the pot.
He has no idea.
“The whiskey of course,” is all I offer.
Gino frowns, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Costi?” the angel of my dreams says from behind me. I turn around in slow motion. It’s been ages since my eyes have landed on this beauty up close. “Is that you?” she asks.
“In the flesh.” I give a wide grin and take a sip of my whiskey.
Bianca’s green eyes grow larger as Gino positions himself next to her. That damn hand of his has landed on the small of her back again.
Red blurs my vision, but I shake the offending color away.
Fuck this shit.
I don’t let anyone know how enraged I am by his hand—the one that is coming close to being broken.
Memories engulf me as Bianca plants a quick kiss on my cheek. “It’s been ages.” She steps away with a strained smile, but her eyes devour me. “Daddy,” she calls over her shoulder, “look who’s here.”
Don moves closer, his eyes dawning with recognition. “Constantine, how are you?”
I shake his hand. “I’ve been good.”
Gino, obviously bored with our exchange, turns to Bianca. “Should we get a drink?”
Bianca’s sinful red lips tilt upward. “I have my eyes on a cannoli.”
Gino frowns, his eyes dropping over her body. “How about a plate of fruit? Gotta look perfect for that wedding dress.”
Bianca’s smile slips, and my anger explodes.
I step closer. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave here without getting one.”
Gino tugs Bianca closer to his side, as if that would ever stop me. “What are you even doing here?”
Bianca’s gaze narrows as she awaits my answer.
I straighten my tie, trying my best to ease the tension knotting my neck inside the collar of my dress shirt. “Business.”
Bianca blinks. “What kind of business?”
My eyes roam over her body, wanting more than anything to snatch her up and show her who she belongs to. And it’s definitely not that motherfucker with his hand on her back. “I’m acquiring something.”
“Acquiring what? Cannoli?”
Gino laughs. “Or whiskey?”
My gaze drifts over the high angles of Bianca’s cheekbones, across her pert nose, to her plump lips. “Precious artwork.” It’s not a lie, since she is a masterpiece.
She licks her lips, and I watch the action, mimicking it, my body hardening.
Gino clears his throat. “Well, I hope you have a lovely evening.”
He extends his hand to shake mine and I take it, squeezing firmer than considered polite.
“Have a great night, too.” But I’m not ready to leave just yet. I haven’t gotten what I’ve come to capture.
Bianca seems hesitant to step away from me, but Gino guides her over to a group of people standing in a semi-circle near the orchestra.
I glance over at the dessert buffet, eyeing the cannoli I plan on swiping for my princess tonight.
Don doesn’t budge as they leave. As soon as they’re across the ballroom, he turns to me.
“What are you really doing here?”
“I’m here on business, like I said. Nothing more.” I glance at Bianca and Gino across the room. “I thought they’d be married by now.”
Don follows my line of sight and sighs. “She keeps pushing the wedding back.”
I nearly choke on my whiskey. That’s my girl. “Sounds like her.”
“I told them to pick a date.”
Pity that’ll never happen, because Bianca will be with me. I set my empty tumbler on the bar and motion for a refill. “Perfect.”
A woman in a sparkling blue dress summons Don, and he slaps my shoulder. “On Monday, come by my office. I’d like to talk to you more.”
I tip my chin to him as he walks away. “Sure thing.”
It’s almost shameful how easily the lies roll across my lips. There won’t be a meeting on Monday. I won’t even be stateside.
Bianca’s jade eyes meet mine from across the room, and I raise my drink to her, admiring her delectable curves. Wanting more than anything to have one tiny taste.
Fuck.
Soon.
I can tell she’s trying to get away from Gino’s clutches so she can talk with me more. I’m sure she has tons of questions.
I have my own questions too.
I swipe the dessert as she finally escapes from Gino and glides toward me, giving me a glimpse of golden skin and luscious thigh through the slit of her dress. She stops a foot away.
I glance over her shoulder at the security men never far behind her. “Can we talk in private?”
She looks up at me and I can see the questions swirling in her emerald eyes. I walk out the door to the courtyard, hoping she follows.
A few minutes later, heels click across the tiled patio.
“Ok, I told my guards to give me some privacy,” Bianca says as I keep my back to her, pretending I’m fascinated by the lush garden of this ritzy hotel.
“I got this for you.” I turn and hold out the cannoli resting on a bar napkin.
Her eyes light up. “You didn’t need to get that for me.”
“A man should never deny a woman dessert.” I nudge the sweet in her direction.
She stares at it for a moment, contemplating. “I really shouldn't. I’ll need to fit into my wedding dress.”
This pisses me off and I step closer. “Fuck that guy for making you feel like you can’t have a damn cannoli.”
Her eyes drink me in. “A moment on the lips…” She reaches for the dessert but I pull it back, closing the gap between us.
“Allow me.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Close your eyes and open that pretty fucking mouth for me.”
Her eyes widen and she does as I say. Her lashes flutter closed and her lips part. My dick takes notice of how perfect she looks right now.
I place the edge of the cannoli against her mouth and her pink tongue licks the cream. Fuck.
She takes a dainty bite and her eyes open as she chews. “Mm,” she says, and the faint sound vibrates through my bones, straight to my cock.
I swipe a dollop of filling onto the tip of my index finger and lift it to her lips, wanting nothing more than to kiss them. “Open up.”
Her green eyes gaze into mine, but she does as I say and I push my finger into her mouth. I let out a rough groan as she sucks my finger clean and lets it slowly slide out of her mouth, never breaking eye contact.
“That’s a good girl,” I murmur, so fucking close to her mouth. I want to kiss her, and show her she’s mine, but she’s not ready for that yet.
“What are you really doing here tonight?” she whispers, her voice shaky, sounding far away.
I set the cannoli on a nearby table. “I’m here to collect something.”
She blinks. “Collect what?”
I close the distance between us, wrapping an arm around her. “You.”