Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I could absolutely see that. The ultimate bad boy. The draw of his power. The magnetism of his strength.
When the silence continued, he grabbed his glass and took another drink before he rested his fingertips on the edge and swirled it.
I wanted to know if Isabella knew this and still wanted him, but there was no way I could ask.
When he realized my discomfort wouldn’t evaporate and follow-up questions weren’t forthcoming, he changed the subject. “What did you do this week?”
It took me a moment to recover, to shift gears and head in another direction. “I spent a lot of time with my friends, had a lot of sessions. I already had these events booked months ago, and I couldn’t cancel them, even though work was the last thing I wanted to do.”
“What were they?”
“A wedding, a private shoot, a client’s website, images for a realty company.”
“That is a busy week,” he said. “How’s it been, staying with this friend of yours?”
“Her name is Cindy. And it’s . . . fine.”
He’d grabbed his utensils and started to eat, brushing off the intensity of our previous conversation.
I felt like I was sitting next to a mob boss who could get shot in a drive-by shooting any second—and I was right next to him. “The apartment is small, she’s got a boyfriend . . . it’s not ideal. But once my application gets approved, I’m sure I’ll be able to move right away.”
He didn’t offer to let me stay with him again. He just listened. “You don’t like her boyfriend.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Come on, you don’t need to be diplomatic with me.” Unlike how he was around his family, he ate with polite manners when it was just the two of us. Elbows off the table, taking his time, refined.
“I just get a weird vibe from him.”
“Like he-wishes-he-were-fucking-you-instead-of-her kind of vibe?”
“No,” I said with a scoff. “I can’t really explain it. He doesn’t talk about himself much, doesn’t seem to have a job, like he’s secretive. Like he’s hiding something. He’s a good-looking guy, so I think my friend has just fallen under that spell.”
He took a bite and then rested his elbows on the table, taking his time chewing the food he’d placed in his mouth. He surveyed the restaurant as he sat in quiet contemplation. “What’s his name?”
“Timothée. I think he’s French.”
“The offer to stay with me is still on the table.”
“It’s okay, Constantine—”
“You’ve got to be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. And that’s including my ma.”
“Your mother is lovely, not stubborn.”
“Because you met her on a good day. Cut the bullshit and just stay with me.”
“I’ll probably be out in a week, and it’s a hassle to move all my stuff.”
“Your two suitcases?” he asked with a chuckle. “Could carry that in a single trip.”
“Constantine, I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather stay put.” I focused on my pasta instead of him, afraid to see how pissed off he was.
He stayed quiet for a while, but his rage was palpable. “You’re that afraid of me?”
“It’s not that.”
“You’re a bad liar, Aurelia.”
“I’m not afraid of you in that way.”
“Then be specific.”
I looked across the empty restaurant and felt his heavy stare burn a hole in my cheek. “I already told you I need time to heal. I don’t know how many times I can say it. I don’t want to leave one relationship and then jump into another one. That always ends in disaster.”
“I just want to make sure you’re safe, sweetheart. This is not some ploy to get you into bed.”
“I’ll be fine. If I ever need help or feel unsafe, you will be the first one I call, okay?” I raised my chin and looked at him again, seeing his arms on the table as he leaned toward me, his dark eyes lethal. “I don’t know how much time I need—weeks, months, I don’t know. But you shouldn’t wait around for me.”
He held my gaze for a long time before he withdrew his arms and sat back. He released a quiet chuckle before he abandoned his approach and focused on the last bit of his steak. “All right.” He grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled his glass, eating and drinking in silence.
“What?” I asked, picking up on the laugh he issued under his breath.
He continued to look relaxed, his eyes elsewhere, his behavior not matching the words that left his mouth. “I’ll wait as long as it takes, sweetheart.”
Chapter 16
Constantine
I arrived at Quirinal Palace, the residence of President Barsetti in the heart of Rome. I bypassed all the security checkpoints because I didn’t have to waste my time with that. I was the only person in the world who could meet with the president armed.
I walked down the long hallway comprising Roman arches, sculptures, and artwork from the palace’s private collection, and then I was let inside the double doors to his private office.