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)
“This conversation has gone as far as it should,” Pope Zephyrinus said. “Constantine, you’ve let Darius know about the rising tensions among enemies of Europe and the catastrophic consequences of an arms deal. And Darius has received this information. That is the most progress we’re going to make here.”
The Skull King had so much power, he couldn’t be challenged—even when it could make us vulnerable to an outside attack. We had our disagreements, but I assumed there was one thing we would be united on—fighting against enemies of our country.
But I was fucking wrong.
Darius rose to his feet and addressed the pope. “Thank you for your time, Holy Father.” Then he let himself out.
I stayed seated on the couch, my hands clutched tight, my eyes on the surface of the coffee table. Rage pumped in my heart so forcefully, I could feel it beat against my ribs. The corners of my eyes were red instead of black. My hands ached to snap every joint in his body that held his bones together.
My uncle stared at me for a while. “It’s done, my son.”
“It’s never done—not for me.”
Chapter 13
Aurelia
Constantine was not himself—at all.
He was at work all the time, and when he was home, he chose to be in his study . . . even though he didn’t seem to be working. When I snuck a peek at him, he just sat there and stared at one of the walls . . . lost.
Whenever I tried to talk to him, he wasn’t interested in having a conversation.
He wasn’t even interested in sex.
I was buck naked when he came home one day, and he didn’t even look at me before he hopped in the shower.
Every time I asked him to talk to me, he said he didn’t want to. But the moment never passed. He just became colder and more distant . . . and kind of an asshole. It got so bad that I took his phone when he was in the shower, found Rocco’s phone number, and then texted him from my phone.
Hey, it’s Aurelia.
Everything alright? He sounded just like Constantine.
Constantine hasn’t been himself in a week, and I don’t know what to do about it. He won’t tell me what’s bothering him.
Yeah . . . he’s been in a dark place.
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Need to let it run its course. Just remember, it has nothing to do with you and his obsession with you hasn’t changed. It’s just masked by an ugly cloud of depression.
I was relieved it had nothing to do with me. I’d assumed that was the case, but now that a full week had come and gone, I wasn’t certain anymore.
Be patient.
Yeah, I’ll try.
Elio set the table for dinner, and we ate in his dining room. We were seated across from each other, but Constantine didn’t look at me one time. Just focused on his food or his wine or the window. It was like I wasn’t even there.
“Con.”
His eyes immediately flicked to mine—probably because I’d never called him that before. Everyone else he knew did, but I always loved his full name, the way it sounded, the power in its length.
“I’m sorry you’re going through a hard time right now, but I wish you would confide in me.”
He was only halfway done with his food, but he set down his fork like his appetite was long gone. He propped his elbows on the table, hands together at his chin, the defeat still heavy in his gaze. “It’s not that I don’t feel like I can talk to you about this. I just literally don’t want to talk about it.” He swallowed, as if just acknowledging his source of heartache was enough to destroy him.
“You forget that I’ve lost someone too. That the grief comes and goes depending on the day and the season. You also forget that I also had an absent father. But in my case, he didn’t even try.”
His eyes dropped momentarily, his fingers interlocking a little tighter.
“I’m sure my loss is different from yours, but I’m sure it hurts the same.” I didn’t expect him to perk up immediately after I broached the topic, but I didn’t necessarily expect him to share his heartache either. I just wanted to address it since he was clearly unable to cope with it on his own.
He lowered his hands to the table and inhaled a deep breath before it came out slowly. He stared at his hands for a while, no longer looking like the big, strong man who had flashed his killer smile every few minutes. He looked worn and withered, like a leather couch that had been in a house for forty-five years. “I met with the Skull King last week. We’re having some international-security issues.”