“The last time you came was six months ago.”
“I know, I know,” he said. “I had a lot of stuff going on at work at the time.”
The second he mentioned work, she physically and emotionally withdrew. “I love you, baby.”
“Love you too, Ma.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you for dinner.”
He was so good to his mom, and he was polite. God, he was a dream come true. It was hard to believe this was the same man that ... I still didn’t quite understand what he did. He sounded like a police officer for the worst criminals in the country. What was the name for an occupation like that?
She turned to me next. “It was so wonderful to meet you.” She hugged me and kissed me, smothered me like I was already accepted. Like she didn’t hope Constantine and Isabella would find their way back to each other. She wanted him to have whomever he wanted, and that was such a relief.
“You too. I had so much fun.”
“I can’t wait for both of you to come back. We’ll need to spend more time together.”
My heart squeezed because I already loved his mom. She reminded me of mine. “I look forward to it.”
Constantine and I walked outside, and we went through the gate of the property, where he pulled out his phone to order a ride. “Couple minutes away.” He stared down at the cliffs and the lights from the buildings, a quick rush of breeze moving through his hair. He seemed to feel my look before he turned to look at me.
“Thanks for bringing me. I had a good time.”
“Yeah?” He grinned in his special way, the smolder entering his gaze.
“Yeah, it’s nice to be around family, if that makes sense.” They weren’t my family, but it was like a memory of what a family used to feel like.
His smile slowly faded as his eyes filled with endless depth.
“But I noticed your brother wasn’t there. Does he live in another part of Italy?” I’d noticed no one mentioned him either.
His stare didn’t change, still locked in my gaze. “He’s dead.”
His words were so final and abrupt that it took me a second to understand what he’d just relayed to me. “I—I’m sorry. What happened?” I assumed his father passed from a health problem, but even if his brother died yesterday, he would have been in the prime of his life.
“I’m not ready to tell that story.” He looked down the cliff again, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Of course. I understand.” I continued to watch him stare, carrying a weight of hurt entirely on his own. I reached for his arm, and I rested my head against his shoulder, the only affection I could give him when he was closed off like this. “I’m always here, whenever you’re ready.”
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.
