Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“It’s okay to feel all these things, Constantine. Grief is complicated and cyclic. When it returns, sometimes it’s worse—and sometimes it’s better. I’m sorry you’ve been through all this . . .”
He continued to stare at the table, and then he spoke like he hadn’t heard me. “We would have stayed in Taormina and continued to work at the restaurant. I would have been married and had a couple kids. My mom would be happy. But then I realize . . . if all that had happened . . .” He lifted his eyes and looked at me again. “I wouldn’t have met you. And I just can’t imagine my life without you, sweetheart.”
After that conversation, Constantine was himself again.
He took me out to dinner, bent me over his desk in his office, woke me up when he came home from work at three in the morning by shoving his big dick inside me.
Back to normal.
I had a shoot in the morning, and he texted me and asked if we could meet for lunch afterward. The driver dropped me off outside a restaurant with an outdoor patio. He was already there, seated under the shade of the umbrella in a dark-gray T-shirt and a dazzling smile.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Hey.” I walked to where he was seated, but he didn’t stand up for me like he normally did.
He pulled me onto his lap and kissed me, his arms scooping my legs up like I weighed nothing. Naturally, he moved his hand to my ass and gave it a hard squeeze before he let me go. “How was your shoot?”
“Boring.” I moved into the chair across from him.
“You don’t have to work. You know that, right?” He grabbed the menu and gave it a look.
It was true. I didn’t need money. I didn’t pay rent, and I didn’t need groceries because I’d never even set foot in his kitchen. The only time I spent money was when I hustled around the city and needed a coffee or a sandwich. “I like my job. I just don’t like infant portraits. Hard to get a good picture when they’re screaming at the top of their lungs.”
“Well, I wouldn’t describe that as boring,” he said with a chuckle.
“Stressful, then.”
“Then maybe you should only take the jobs you want since you don’t need the work anymore.”
I’d never asked him to support me. He’d just started doing it . . . like we were married. “Maybe. But you never know where a word-of-mouth recommendation will go. I photographed this wedding and her uncle was a politician, and that led to a huge job six months later.”
He flipped the menu over and looked at the other side. “Keep it in the back of your mind.”
“I’m happy to pay rent and contribute to other bills—”
“Sweetheart, stop.” He grinned wide. “Trust me, you pay your way.”
“Hey, I suck your dick for free.”
“But if you’re good at something, never do it for free, right?” He winked, then looked at the menu again.
He pulled off that wink so well. So handsome and smooth.
“What are you getting?” he asked.
“Maybe the salad. I already ate breakfast.”
When the waiter came over, Constantine took over the conversation as always. He ordered our drinks and our lunch and then handed over the menus.
He moved closer to the table, elbows on the surface. “What else is new?”
“Other than you being so fucking hot, not much.”
He smirked. “But that’s not new, sweetheart.”
“A bit arrogant, but you can pull it off.”
“Oh, I know I can.” He continued to smile as he fished his phone out of his pocket. “It’s Beatrice.” He took the call and put it to his ear. “Hey, sis.”
I wasn’t sure what she said on her end. I pulled out my own phone so I didn’t just sit there and stare at him as he continued to talk.
“How are the monkeys?”
Monkeys? She had pet monkeys?
“Tell them if they give you any more shit, Uncle Con will straighten them out.”
Ohh . . . his nephews.
“Yeah, things are good. At lunch with Aurelia right now.” He listened to her for a bit. “Yeah, Aurelia’s here. You want to talk to her?”
My heart rate spiked because I knew she didn’t like me. Please say no. Please say no.
“All right, I’ll let you go. Food will be out soon. Love you.” He hung up and set the phone on the table.
I did like that he said I love you to his sister . . . and said it first.
“She said she had to go,” he said. “One of the boys had climbed onto the counter to grab a cookie from the jar.”
I nodded. “It’s okay, Con. I know she doesn’t like me.”
His eyebrows furrowed, and he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Why would she not like you?”
“Well, she was kinda cold when we met at the house.”