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)
“Yeah?”
He continued to smirk. “You act like you’re about to make a deal with some suits.”
“That’s exactly how I feel.”
When the waiter came back over, Constantine ordered for the both of us. He got the same thing I did and handed over the menus.
I took in the scene, the beautifully painted tables made of volcanic rock, the bright sun in the center of their logo, the people who passed in front of the restaurant with their bags of souvenirs or sandwiches tucked in waxed paper.
Constantine watched me. “You love it here.”
I turned to meet his stare. “I do. It’s where I fell in love with you.”
A little smile moved onto his lips. “That quick?”
“Oh, one hundred percent,” I said with a chuckle, relieved that I could get all these big feelings off my chest. Relieved I didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t the man I wanted the rest of my life.
“Because you sure played hard to get a lot,” he teased.
“I didn’t want to jump from one relationship to the next. I wanted to do it right, because I knew you were the real deal. And I guess I never thought it would go anywhere at the time because, you know, you’re hotter than the fucking sun, and I’m nothing special.”
“Nothing special . . .” His smirk continued. “Sweetheart, if only you were in my head the first time I saw you. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you again at the bar of the hotel. Felt like I won the lottery.”
Psh, I was the one who won the fucking lottery. “You’re sweet.”
The waiter arrived with our glass bowls of granita and the basket that contained two brioche rolls. He placed a bottle of water for us to share and two cups before he walked off to help the other tables.
“Here we go.” Constantine handed me a spoon so I could take the first bite.
I spooned the granita out, then smeared it on a piece of the brioche before I popped it into my mouth. “Oh god.” I added more granita to the bread and proceeded to eat it piece by piece, and it got better with every bite. “It’s sooooo good.”
Constantine continued to watch me. “Not gonna lie, this is turning me on a bit.”
“I’ll happily eat granita off your dick.”
This was one of those moments where he would usually smirk, but he continued his hard stare, made it slightly sharper. “You’ve got yourself a deal, sweetheart.”
With the exception of Medusa still being hurt and needing her medications, that week felt like a vacation. Constantine took me out all the time, showed me spots we hadn’t seen the first time we were there. That night, we got ready for dinner and returned to the hotel where we’d met for dinner at their Michelin-star restaurant, Principe Cerami. We were given a table outside on the terrace with unobstructed views of the sea. By the time we were seated, the sun had already set so we couldn’t see the water for more than ten minutes before it was gone. Then the city lights along the coastline became our view.
Constantine ordered the six-course meal so he could try everything, but I stuck to the à la carte menu and ordered the artisanal spaghetti with tomatoes and salty ricotta cheese. Constantine chose the wine without needing to look at the menu.
I noticed that he’d ordered the tasting menu without even looking at what the selections were. “Did you review the menu before we came?”
“No. But I eat anything.” He took a drink from his wineglass.
“We should put that to the test by having me cook for you.”
He released a little laugh, and it sounded so charming. I didn’t make him laugh often, so when it happened, it was special. “I’d eat anything you’d make, sweetheart. But you never have to cook for me. It’s my job to have someone cook for you.”
“No, it’s not,” I said honestly. “I’d be just as happy in a one-bedroom apartment with a microwave and a little stove.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be. I did that in my early twenties, and I’m not going back.”
“I’m just saying you don’t need to spoil me all the time.”
“Yes, I do.” He took another drink of his wine and looked out at the dark sea.
We fell into silence, and he continued to stare, looking at nothing in particular as far as I could tell. His mind seemed to be elsewhere.
And I suspected I knew exactly where it’d gone.
There were times when he was happy, when he smiled brighter than the sun, teased me and slapped me on the ass, and we were perfect together. But these moments continued to come back, and I suspected they always would.
I followed his gaze to the sea and saw a collection of small boats and their multicolored lights on the surface of the water. Blue, red, green, and yellow. I had no idea what they were for. “Do you know what they’re doing out there?”