Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He sat behind the desk. “Our room. And yes, unless you have something else in mind.”
“Nope. Just want to make sure that’s what you’ll be wearing.”
A ghost of a smile moved over his lips before he grabbed his phone. “And what will you be wearing, sweetheart?”
We didn’t make it to dinner. Once he stepped into the bedroom, he took me on the edge of the bed and filled me with two loads back-to-back. It was for the best, because I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy my food if I hadn’t rubbed one out beforehand.
This man turned me into a horny teenager.
Dinner was served, and we ate together at the table in his private dining room. Medusa was given her dinner at the same time, so she ate out of her bowl on the raised silver tray that was set about a foot from the floor so she didn’t have to bend her head so low to eat.
Spoiled dog.
Our dinner was salmon, rice, and white asparagus.
“No steak tonight?” I teased.
“I told Elio to substitute fish a couple nights a week.”
“This is the best salmon I’ve ever had. You don’t like it?”
“Let’s just say . . . it’s not steak.”
I chuckled, then continued to eat.
He ate with his arms on the table, the muscles bulging even when he was relaxed. I noticed he ate most of his calories during the day, but at night, he cut his portions way back. He had a big breakfast and a heavy lunch, and then another lunch before dinner. Which made perfect sense, considering the sheer amount of muscle attached to his bones. “Tell me about your friend.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, so there didn’t seem to be a hint of jealousy there.
“His name is Armand. He’s actually Enzo’s best friend . . . or he was.”
“Then why did you have coffee with him?”
“At first, I was kind of a bitch and dismissed him.”
“Cutting someone off doesn’t make you a bitch.”
“Well, he just wanted to apologize for not telling me about Luna. The apology seemed sincere. He said he cut Enzo out of his life because he just couldn’t stand what he’d done to me. Said he didn’t want a friend like that.”
Constantine gave a nod. “You are the company you keep.”
“He said the other guys had cut Enzo out too. Then he asked if we could be friends.”
He took another bite of the salmon and sat back in the chair as he finished it. “Not to sound like a dick here, but does he actually want to be friends? Or does he want a chance to take his best friend’s girl?”
“He actually wants to be friends,” I said with a chuckle. “I told him about you right at the start of the conversation. Showed him your picture and everything because I wanted him to see how hot you are.”
“Is he gay?”
“No. But come on, any straight man would know you’re hot.”
That handsome smirk moved onto his lips.
“You’d be the first one to say Rocco is hot.”
“He is hot,” Constantine said automatically.
“See?” I said. “I wanted him to know I’m doing just fine. He said he was happy for me and asked if we could be friends. That he was bummed that Enzo fucked it up because they all really liked me, which is really sweet. Then he asked if I wanted to hang out with him and the guys on Friday night.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said yes and asked if I could bring you. He said yes,” I said. “I’m so over that relationship, but it’s really nice to know that I mattered to some people, even if I didn’t matter to Enzo.”
Constantine digested all that information for a while before he gave a nod. “Where are we going?”
Prologue IX
Constantine
The plane landed in Catania, and the driver picked me up. It was an hour’s drive from the airport to Taormina. I’d been the emperor of the Roman Republic for two years now, and that time had flashed before my eyes. I had to hire a crew to serve me, had to build the infrastructure, had to come in hard and fast so all the assholes knew I was a force to be reckoned with.
As a result, I hadn’t been home in two years.
I should have visited more, should have been there for my mom while she spent the last years grieving, but I’d been grieving too. And staying busy was the way I coped. My endgame was always the death of the Skull King, but I had to play it right.
I agreed to stay with my mom even though I would have preferred my own space, but I knew it meant a lot to her to have me there instead of at a hotel, so I let her have her way. The driver dropped me off outside my childhood home, and I carried my bag over my shoulder before I knocked on the door.