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)
I hadn’t said a word after we left Enzo’s. Our final parting was just so . . . anticlimactic. “If you’d told me this was how it would end a year ago, I wouldn’t have believed it. It’s hard to picture, but we were happy. Really happy.”
“He’ll come to regret it. I promise you that.” He looked straight out the windshield, one arm propped on the armrest.
“I don’t care if he ever does.” He’d apologized to me, and I felt absolutely nothing.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he already does,” he said with a slight smirk.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, it’s a lot more fun sneaking around and screwing in the back seat or in a dark alleyway than playing house,” he said with a chuckle. “Now, he’s got a live-in girlfriend and two kids that aren’t even his. Must be a shock.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Enzo’s shock couldn’t have been worse than mine when I’d walked in there and seen my presence completely erased by his new family.
“What’d he say to you?”
“Apologized.”
He gave a slow nod. “Yep, he knows he fucked up. Got caught up in the secrecy and lost sight of what mattered. He must be out of his mind to trade you for any woman.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
He turned to look at me directly. “I mean it.”
And Enzo had said a lot of the same things when we’d started seeing each other . . . and look where we’d ended up.
“I’ve been thinking about you like crazy.”
How in the world did I land this guy? He was insanely hot, but his looks paled in comparison to his other features, like his warmth and his smile and how quick and smart he was. The way he cared for his family. His only vice was how he earned a living. “I’ve missed you too.”
He extended his hand over the center console, his arm long enough to reach my thigh, touching me like we were back in Taormina. The touch of his flesh was muffled by the denim I wore, but the pressure and weight of his hand both excited and calmed me.
“Thank you for helping me today.”
“I’ve always got your back.” He squeezed my thigh gently. “I don’t think there’s room for all this stuff in that apartment. Let me hold on to it for you until you move in.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“I’ve got a lot of space. It’s fine.”
“That’s nice of you, but it’s not your problem—”
“Think I’m going to go through your panties or something?” he teased, his smile forming. “I mean, I can’t promise that won’t happen . . .”
I chuckled quietly, the first time I’d somewhat laughed all day. “Well, thank you.”
He stared at me for several heartbeats, his eyes, dark like the underworld, so comforting. “Let me take you to dinner tonight.”
“I would, but . . .” I felt bad for rejecting him when he’d just done something nice for me. “I’m just not in that place right now.”
If he was disappointed, he hid it well. “Then how about lunch? I know a good spot nearby.”
“Now?”
“You aren’t hungry after moving all those boxes?”
“Well, you’re the one who carried all the heavy ones.”
He gave my thigh a pat, the way he had with my ass. “Like I’d let my woman do a damn thing.” He clicked the button to free his safety belt and started to hop out of the car. “Come on.”
“I really don’t think you can leave your car here.”
He grinned as he came around the car and opened my door. “Oh sweetheart, you’re cute.”
We went to Cambio, a restaurant that had great Roman pasta. I’d been there a couple times. Of course Constantine knew the guys here too, just like in Taormina. He made small talk near the bar before we were given a table in the back, away from everyone else.
Also just like in Taormina, he ordered a bottle of wine for the table and barely glanced at the menu, as if he already knew what he would order. “What are you thinking, sweetheart?”
I’d had no appetite at all when he’d asked me to lunch, but now that we’d changed our surroundings, the desire for food started to come back. “The cacio e pepe.”
“Excellent choice.”
“What about you?”
“I like their steak.”
The waiter came to the table, and the guys had a small conversation about tennis before Constantine ordered our lunch for both of us.
“So, you really know everyone, huh?” I teased.
“Yep,” he said with a nod. “Got eyes and ears everywhere.”
Whenever his profession was mentioned, I became more curious . . . and more wary. “How was your week?”
“Busy.”
“What did you do?”
“Work.”
“The entire time?”
“Yeah, that’s how it works.” He grabbed his glass and took a drink. “The job and I are the same entity.”
A job I still didn’t understand. “Could you . . . tell me more about it?”