Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Well, my answer is still no.”
He released an irritated sigh, like he wanted me to know exactly how frustrated that made him feel.
“I want a ring and a proposal and a wedding—and I’m not sorry for wanting that.”
He looked across the room toward the open window, sitting perfectly straight with a strong spine, and said nothing.
I didn’t want it to be tense between us, not when we were so happy an hour ago. But I had to stand up for what I wanted. I’d dreamed of the moment Constantine would ask me to be his wife—and it was never like that.
After several minutes of silence, he looked at me again. He seemed to release his anger, because there wasn’t a hint of it in his gaze. His hand went to my thigh, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get to bed. I’ll take care of Medusa.”
“All right.”
He gave my thigh a pat before he stood up and took Medusa out the back door so she could do her business in the garden.
I sat there and watched his silhouette darken as he disappeared from the light. I felt a wad of guilt in my stomach for denying what he wanted, but also a sense of pride for standing up to him. I knew he meant well and his intentions were pure, but a wedding meant a lot more to me than it ever would to him.
Chapter 11
Aurelia
The ceremony was held at a church, with at least five hundred people crowded into the aisles. We sat next to his mom and his sister Beatrice. It seemed to be a child-free wedding, because her two boys weren’t there. Then we all drove to the hotel where the reception took place, on a private terrace with beautiful views of the Ionian Sea.
We sat at a round table with a white tablecloth and a tall centerpiece in the center. So many people were there, and of course a ton of guests came over to say hello to Constantine. He was warm and charming, all smiles and good vibes.
Sometimes it was hard to believe he’d been the emperor of Rome.
If I hadn’t seen his barbarism with my own two eyes, I might not have believed it.
Constantine and I had returned to our normal routine after our little fight about marriage. He didn’t seem to hold any resentment toward me, because his eyes lit up at the sight of me. He kissed me every morning and every night. Still wanted to fuck my brains out constantly. He was always in a good mood, no matter the time of day or the company in his presence.
He introduced me to a lot of people.
The one person I didn’t want to see and hoped wasn’t there was Isabella. She didn’t seem to be in attendance, but with five hundred people on that terrace, I couldn’t really be sure. Beatrice stayed at the table with us, so if her friend was there, she seemed to be ignoring her.
Beatrice did nothing more than say hello to me with the fakest smile I’d ever seen.
If Constantine didn’t care what his sister thought of me, then I guess I shouldn’t either.
After dinner toasts, the dance floor opened up, and it was a madhouse. Everyone was excited to jump up and party, drinks still in their hands, raucous bursts of laughter somehow overcoming the loud music.
“Con!” Constantine had his arm over my chair as he looked at one of his many, many cousins, who was waving him to join in the festivities.
“Come on, sweetheart.”
“I’m not the best dancer.”
“Does it look like a competition out there?” he teased. “Come on, have fun. In a couple months, you aren’t going to want to move much, so enjoy it while you can.” He stood up first and helped me to my feet before he took my hand and guided me onto the dance floor.
He and his friends and family jumped around and seemed to be having the time of their lives. It wasn’t about the best dance moves but just joking around and having a good time. When Constantine danced with me, he grabbed my hand and spun me around before he circled me, being the most playful I’d ever seen him.
He snapped me out of my fear of embarrassment, and I just went with it.
He wasn’t the best dancer traditionally, but he had so much confidence in the way he moved, the way he looked at me, that he pulled it off so well. He made me live in the moment with him and his friends, dancing and laughing, the night passing in the blink of an eye.
Constantine drank all the time, every day, but I’d never seen him drunk—and that was a testament to how much booze he drank at the wedding. One of his cousins gave us a ride home after the wedding because Constantine was too drunk to drive, and I didn’t feel comfortable driving around all the cliffs, especially in the dark.