Chapter 7
Aurelia
Constantine stepped out of the shower, drops of water clinging to his naked skin like drops of dew on a summer morning. A living sculpture that had a beating heart, he moved to the dresser and grabbed a fresh pair of boxers. He ran his fingers through his damp hair absentmindedly.
Naked on his bed, I lay there and admired him.
“Do you like seafood?” he asked suddenly. He pulled on the black boxers before he tapped the screen of his phone to see what messages had popped up since he’d last checked it. There seemed to be nothing of importance, because he turned to look at me.
“Of course.”
“I know a good spot.” He grabbed a watch from the counter and slipped it onto his wrist before he clasped it closed. The face of the timepiece was turned toward me for an instant, and I recognized it as a Patek Philippe.
The most expensive watch brand in the world.
The only reason I knew that was because of some of the weddings I shot. Sometimes rich clients hired me, billionaires, and I’d seen glimpses of that world. They wore watches just like that. “For ...?”
“Dinner.” He moved toward the bed, then took a seat at the edge. He reached for my ankle, his fingers lightly touching the skin andfeeling the gold anklet that sat there. His eyes were on me like he didn’t think twice about his actions. So subtle and quiet, but somehow sensual and intimate.
“The tour continues?”
His eyes held mine for an instant before a smile slowly lifted his lips. “Keep paying me well, and I’ll show you the world.” His fingers went still on my ankle before he rose to his feet and moved back toward his closet.
I watched him go until he disappeared, and my heart gave an inexplicable lurch. Even the simplest touches left invisible marks on my skin. I barely knew anything about the man except his name and his homeland, but I felt close to him. “Is it a nice place?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll swing by my hotel and change.” I left the bed and pulled on everything I’d been wearing, before I grabbed my purse. “Want me to meet you there?”
He came back out of the closet, a black button-up shirt open across his tattooed chest. He worked the buttons without needing to watch his fingers work. “You think you could find it?”
“Heard of Google Maps?”
He smirked. “Then I’ll meet you there in an hour, sweetheart.”
When I arrived at Osteria RossoDiVino, Constantine was already seated at a table underneath an outdoor space heater. The patio was full of other couples enjoying a bottle of wine and their dinner.
It was a longer walk from my hotel than it was from his, but Taormina was small and safe, and walking alone down the cobblestone streets and the narrow alleys felt more like an adventure than a risk.
He sat with his arms crossed, a candle burning low on the table with a bottle of wine already placed there. He spoke with the waiter, and judging by their body language, they knew each other. Thewaiter said something funny, because Constantine flashed his signature mouthwatering, panty-dropping smile.
God, he was so hot.
Seriously, the hottest piece of man I’d ever laid eyes on.
And for tonight and hopefully the rest of the week ... he was mine.
He seemed to know I was there, because he turned in my direction. His smile fell, and a hardened, intense expression replaced it—and that was the look I preferred. His eyes roamed down my body even though he’d taken me against the headboard before he’d showered and gotten ready for dinner.
When I reached the table, he rose to his feet, something I didn’t expect him to do. He bent his neck and gave me a gentle kiss, even though I still must have tasted like him mixed with the cannoli. Eyes still focused on mine, he pulled out the chair for me and waited for me to sit.
It took me a second to shake off the magnetism in his eyes. To break the hold he had on me with just his stare. He could be such a gentleman but in a masculine way rather than a domesticated one.
He returned to the chair across from me, the candlelight highlighting the angles of his face. The sleeves of his collared shirt were pushed to his elbows to expose the chiseled muscles of his forearms, the black ink over beautiful tanned skin.
He grabbed the bottle and wordlessly poured me a glass.
I’d spent the whole day with him, but he looked so absolutely dreamy, it felt like the first time I’d met him. When I was so nervous I thought I’d throw up. When I felt completely unsure of myself, unworthy of his stare and his attention. I grabbed the menu just so I could break the connection between our eyes.
