“I’m a descendant of the first emperor, Augustus.” He said it with a straight face—like this was all true.
Now, my appetite was long gone. I realized I didn’t know the man I’d been sleeping with. I had been too blinded by his handsome smile and eyes that were so confident they were borderline arrogant.
He studied me for a while.
I felt the heat flush my face. It was a warm day, but I felt unnecessary sweat start to collect at the back of my neck.
“You’re scared.” He didn’t say it triumphantly, but with defeat.
“I—I’m not sure what I am.”
“You’re scared,” he repeated. “But I’m the last man in the world you should be scared of.”
Every breath didn’t feel like enough. I felt the scream in my lungs.
“And I believe you.” And that’s what elevated me from scared to utterly terrified. I’d suspected he was in the Mafia or some other organized crime, but this was much, much worse. I felt like I’d stepped two thousand years into the past of ancient Rome, and now I sat beside Emperor Augustus himself.
He was quiet for a long time, just staring at me.
I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for me to say something or was just giving me time to process it all.
The waiter brought our dishes, then departed.
Neither of us touched our food.
Constantine’s attention remained laser focused on me. “Nothing has changed, sweetheart. I’m still the man you met in Taormina. But I’m not going to sugarcoat what I am and what I do. As I told you before, I’ll never lie to keep a woman, no matter how much I want her.”
“Has this been a problem for other women?”
“No. But like I said, I haven’t been in a relationship in nine years. Most of the women I’ve slept with knew exactly what I was, and it only turned them on more.”
I could absolutely see that. The ultimate bad boy. The draw of his power. The magnetism of his strength.
When the silence continued, he grabbed his glass and took another drink before he rested his fingertips on the edge and swirled it.
I wanted to know if Isabella knew this and still wanted him, but there was no way I could ask.
When he realized my discomfort wouldn’t evaporate and follow-up questions weren’t forthcoming, he changed the subject. “What did you do this week?”
It took me a moment to recover, to shift gears and head in another direction. “I spent a lot of time with my friends, had a lot of sessions. I already had these events booked months ago, and I couldn’t cancel them, even though work was the last thing I wanted to do.”
“What were they?”
“A wedding, a private shoot, a client’s website, images for a realty company.”
“That is a busy week,” he said. “How’s it been, staying with this friend of yours?”
“Her name is Cindy. And it’s ... fine.”
He’d grabbed his utensils and started to eat, brushing off the intensity of our previous conversation.
I felt like I was sitting next to a mob boss who could get shot in a drive-by shooting any second—and I was right next to him. “Theapartment is small, she’s got a boyfriend ... it’s not ideal. But once my application gets approved, I’m sure I’ll be able to move right away.”
He didn’t offer to let me stay with him again. He just listened. “You don’t like her boyfriend.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Come on, you don’t need to be diplomatic with me.” Unlike how he was around his family, he ate with polite manners when it was just the two of us. Elbows off the table, taking his time, refined.
