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)
He moved his arm away from my grasp and slid it around my waist. He pulled me effortlessly, resting his chin on my head. “I know, sweetheart.”
Chapter 13
Aurelia
He quickly threw his stuff into his suitcase as if he had someone at home who would sort through it when he returned. He didn’t care about keeping his shirts straight because someone would press them and hang them up in his closet. I noticed subtle indicators in his behavior that showed his wealth, and that was one of them.
But he didn’t wear it on his sleeve like some of the billionaires I’d rubbed shoulders with. He seemed too secure to need everyone in the room to know he was the richest one there. He’d told me he bought that beautiful villa for his mother, but it hadn’t felt like he was trying to show off.
I zipped up my suitcase and sat at the edge of the bed. “I don’t want to go.”
He wore jeans and a simple T-shirt, his muscular body filling it out well. He clasped the watch on his wrist as he smirked. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll be back.”
I loved Rome, the Eternal City, but it was a lot of hustle and bustle, motorbikes flying down the roads at full speed. Crowds all year round except for the month of January. I’d return to work and so would Constantine, so our easygoing, carefree fuck-cation was over. Now, it was time for reality.
“Staying with me?”
I tore my eyes away from the terrace and the sparkle on the surface of the water of the pool and looked at him again, not understanding the exact meaning of the question.
“At my villa,” he added.
I got to my feet, dressed in jeans and a tank top, something comfortable for the short flight. I felt his stare with every move I made. “Actually, I told my friend what happened, and she said I could crash with her.”
He finished fastening his watch, then relaxed both arms at his sides, staring me down without a specific expression.
“I just don’t want this to go too fast.”
“You aren’t over him?”
“No, no, no.” It wasn’t that at all. All the warmth I’d ever felt for Enzo had died. Now I just kinda . . . hated him. “It’s not that at all.”
“Then why?”
“Like I said before, I need time to heal.” It was hard to deny this beautiful man who inexplicably wanted me. It was hard to turn down another form of the fuck-cation. I was certain his place was a lot better than my friend’s little apartment. “I don’t want to ruin this by rushing.” Now, we were back to reality, and having me at his home too long might actually suffocate him. I might overstay my welcome when I didn’t mean to. What if it took longer to find an apartment than I realized and I annoyed him? I didn’t want to leave one relationship bruised and battered and immediately jump into another one. There was only one Constantine. Only one shot with this man.
“I didn’t ask you to move in. Just wanted to help you get back on your feet.”
“I know, but you’ve done enough for me.”
“What have I done for you exactly?”
“Well, you’ve given me the best week of my life.”
“And you fucked my brains out. We’re even.” He smiled, then turned to the phone on the dresser. He hit the speaker button and called the bellhop to come grab our things and take them to the car. He didn’t address the subject again, so he seemed to have accepted my answer.
A driver picked us up at the airport in Rome, but it wasn’t a private chauffeur company. The two guys who got out of the car had guns stuffed into the back of their jeans, not caring about the public seeing the weapons, and they didn’t say a word to Constantine as they grabbed the luggage and stowed it in the back of the SUV.
Constantine must have spotted my unease, because he moved his hand to my waist and gave me a gentle squeeze before he opened the back door for me. We sat together, his hand on my thigh, the radio on.
When we were on the freeway, I noticed the two black cars directly behind us. They seemed to be following us. It was as if Constantine was the president and he had a private motorcade to escort him wherever he went.
An hour later, we entered the city center of Rome and arrived at my friend’s apartment. She was still at work and had left her spare key under the mat. I got the door unlocked, revealing a one-bedroom apartment.
The guys had carried all of my stuff up the three flights of stairs, probably because it was quicker than taking the elevator, and placed everything in a pile against one of the walls. They left without saying a word.