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 joined him in the shower and watched him rub the soap into my body. He felt me everywhere, like I’d been found in the mud instead of in his clean bed. Both of his hands squeezed my ass before he kissed me, and then he smiled at me as I stood under the falling water, looking at me the way he used to.
We dried off and got dressed, and since I had nothing to wear, he gave me some of his clothes, a pair of sweatpants that I had to roll so they’d stay on my hips and one of his T-shirts.
When we left his room, I felt ridiculous walking around in the hallway dressed like that because I didn’t feel like we were home. It felt like we’d left our hotel room and ventured onto the rest of the property—and I looked homeless.
The rest of his villa was just as grand, every hallway jam-packed with art and sculptures, free of a single sprinkle of dust, even though almost the entire place was probably never touched. Every floor had very high ceilings, all coffered and outlined in gold and flowers. I felt completely and utterly out of place.
When we made it downstairs, we walked through the enormous glass doors shaped like a Roman arch, and stepped into the gardens. In the shade of the trees and under a large umbrella was a circular table and four chairs, along with a small vase of flowers.
We took a seat, and then someone immediately came to serve us. We were given a pitcher of ice water along with a chilled bottle of wine. A basket of fresh bread and a bowl of marinated green olives were placed on the table. But we barely had time to eat it before our salads were presented to us, leafy and green with tomatoes and mozzarella and a seared piece of salmon on top.
No one said a word to Constantine. It was like the guys in the car when he’d picked me up. To me, he was just a man I’d met in Taormina, but to everyone else, they either respected him . . . or feared him.
He dropped his linen across his lap and started to eat. “So, what happened last night?”
My morning with him had been so magical, I’d nearly forgotten about the nightmare of last night. I should be debilitated by the memory, but once again, Constantine brought me back to life. “I went out with my friend Cindy. Thought it was supposed to be the two of us until her boyfriend showed up—”
“The one you don’t like.”
“Yeah,” I said. “And he brought his friend. Cindy and Timothée left, and I was stuck with the guy. And when I went to the bathroom, he clearly spiked my drink. I tried to leave, but he insisted on helping me find a cab. It was clearly a setup.”
“Have you talked to Cindy?”
“No.” I hadn’t spoken to anyone.
“You know I have to talk to Timothée, right?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure if he was in on it or not.”
“He might have gotten a kickback. Set up the meeting with the target, and he gets a cut.”
“I really fucking hope not.”
“You got a bad vibe from him for a reason.”
My intuition had been firing off, and I hadn’t listened to it.
“You could have stayed with me like I offered, and maybe none of this would have happened.” His tone dropped like he was angry again.
“Yeah . . . hindsight.” I wished I’d just stayed with Constantine. I wished I’d just accepted everything that came with the package from the beginning. There were a lot of things I didn’t love about his line of work, like the fact that he could be killed at any moment, but losing him romantically had felt like a death anyway, so . . .
“I hoped you’ve learned from that hindsight.”
“I have.” I picked at my salad before I took a bite, and it was the best salad I’d ever had.
“Good,” he said. “The entire time, we haven’t been able to actually have a relationship because we’ve been so busy focusing on why it won’t work. Well, you’ve been focused on why it won’t work. I’m excited for us to just be. To see where it goes. To see what it becomes.”
“Yeah, me too.” All the dangers and concerns simply weren’t important anymore. This relationship might get me killed, but I was ready to accept those consequences. I was in too deep now. Dead either way—in a lot of ways. “So, if Timothée was in on it . . . what will happen to him?”
“You know what will happen to him, sweetheart.”
“Even though he didn’t actually hurt or kill anyone, he’s dead?”
“He’s an accomplice to murder, so yeah.”
“I just wasn’t sure how you decided the punishment.”