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)
Whatever hope I’d had that this event could change things between us was gone. He didn’t look at me the same. He was still mad as hell . . . clearly. So mad, I didn’t bother to apologize again. As much as I wanted Constantine, would want him the rest of my life, I knew it was done.
I was devastated . . . and defeated. “Thank you . . . for saving me.”
“It’s what I do.”
I gave a slow nod, realizing I wasn’t special, that he would have done that for any woman who called. He was as invested in my well-being as a stranger off the street. I pulled the covers back and got out of bed. I retrieved the dress from the other chair and started to get dressed so I could leave.
“What are you doing?”
“I should get home.” I wanted to beg for another chance, but I respected him too much to waste his time. His mind was clearly made up, there was a queue of women ready to replace me, and whatever we’d had was dead.
Because I’d killed it.
“What’s the rush?” he asked as he watched me. “Take a second.”
I pulled the dress over my head, then slipped on the heels. “I’m fine.” I stopped looking directly at him. It was the last time I would ever see him, and I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want the memory, didn’t want to carry that sad image in my head for the rest of my life. “Thank you . . . again.” I moved for the door, a little wobbly in my heels.
He blocked my path—like a broken tree that had fallen across the road in a storm.
I felt myself take a harsh breath, not out of fear, but out of some misguided hope.
“Sit.” He nodded to the other armchair.
The room was more like a suite in a hotel room than an actual bedroom. Basically an apartment within a villa. With my exit barred by the humongous mountain, I was forced to take a step back and comply with the demand.
I sat and crossed my legs, painfully aware that I looked like I’d been hit by a car. My makeup must have been a complete mess. My knees were all scraped up from trying to get free of Pierre and his cronies. I looked at the rumpled bed where I’d slept all night and then at the floor, where Medusa lay with her chin resting on her paws.
I looked at anything but him.
He stared at the side of my face for minutes, like he expected me to be the one to speak. “I’m the one who’s angry, but you can’t get out of here fast enough.”
“Yes, because you still hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Whatever. You know what I mean. You want nothing to do with me, and I’ve blown up your phone for the last ten days and never got a reply. Your message is pretty clear, and I don’t want to waste more of your time.” I still wouldn’t look at him, because it felt like a goodbye. A goodbye from my eyes to his. “I thought maybe there was a chance something had changed because . . . I could have died, but it’s clear nothing has changed.”
“I shouldn’t have made that last jab,” he said. “It just slipped out.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“No, it was pretty fucked up, considering everything you’ve just been through.”
I stared at a painting across the room, some kind of colored sketch of the Roman Forum.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
Sweetheart. I never thought he’d call me that again. Hope blossomed in my chest, and I turned to him.
All the anger and resentment left his eyes. “This time apart has given me some perspective on the whole thing. And I fucked up too. I broke down your door with my toxic masculinity and set the place on fire. If I’d never done that, I’m sure you and Enzo would have finished an unremarkable conversation, he would have left, and that would have been the end of it. But I went in there like a psychopath . . . and provoked you.”
I did not expect to hear him take accountability for anything. “I still shouldn’t have said that—”
“Yeah, it still bothers me. But you did say previously that you would be proud if I were your son, so I don’t think you fully meant what you said. Just partially. But partially is still enough to wound me. Now that you’ve had firsthand experience with what I do, I’m sure you can figure out why I felt that way.”
I gave a nod. “Yeah.”
He sat there, arms relaxed on the armrests, knees wide apart. His eyes moved elsewhere for several heartbeats before he spoke again. “I’ve had a rough time since I walked away. When I’m angry like that, it’s usually pretty easy for me to forget the person ever existed. But I spent a lot of time on the couch with Medusa, and she could tell I was hurt. She kept looking at me like I had an injury that she couldn’t find.”