Or the next three weeks.
I tried to sleep on the way, but my mind wouldn’t shut off. I couldn’t stop checking my phone for messages from him. Couldn’t stop replaying our almost-sex in the confessional box. Couldn’t stop dreading the next three weeks without him.
This was a bona fide obsession, bordering on clingy, which I didn’t do. My only interest in guys was sexual. And though I felt intense sexual chemistry with Magnus, my desire for him was so much more.
I liked that he scowled when he was hiding a smile. I liked that he could scare my heart into a gallop, but he couldn’t scare me. I liked that he was twice my size and twice my age. He had a lot to teach me and show me while I ran circles around him and kept him young. I was so small, but compared to him, I was teeny tiny. I liked that. I liked that he was huge and aggressive and growly and could pick me up with one arm and maneuver me into any position imaginable. I liked that whenever I looked at him, he was immediately in control. No, I loved that. I was riveted by the energy he possessed. He was the fantasy. The powerhouse man that every woman wanted.
I was nothing like the mature women he used to date. But I was a woman he was attracted to, and he made that viscerally clear with his hands and lips and eyes. Fuck me, his eyes…
Those windows to his soul held answers to questions I didn’t even know to ask. I just knew there was something in there when he looked at me, connecting us on a level I didn’t understand. Whatever it was, it involved both of us. This wasn’t one-sided. Not by a long shot.
It was after nine at night when the mansions of Bishop’s Landing came into view.
Ours sat at the top of the hill like a queen on her throne overlooking her subjects. The Constantine land and its three-hundred-year-old sprawling estate was our legacy. Every tennis court, guardhouse, swimming pool, manicured garden, and helicopter pad within a one-mile radius belonged to my family.
The driver motored up the hill, following the long driveway to the front doors. During my mother’s many extravagant parties, those front doors gaped open as gowns and tuxedos meandered in and out, gathering on the huge veranda or in the ballroom.
Tonight, all was quiet. The only signs of life were the armed men in the guardhouses and on various balconies. The Morellis had never tried to take out our stronghold, but my mother would never risk it. She kept the mansion guarded like Fort Knox.
I didn’t care about the house. Only about the people in it. By the look of the empty driveway and carriage houses, no one was here.
Christmas was four days away. Unfortunately, Keaton couldn’t fly in until the following week. But where was everyone else?
The butler met me at the door and disappeared with my bag. I hadn’t been home in four months. Nothing had changed. Yet everything felt different.
I wandered down the halls, through the kitchen, around the wood-paneled study, past the windows that overlooked the pool house and swimming pools. I encountered a few people who were paid to live here—bodyguards, security detail, housekeepers, and chefs—but didn’t see anyone who was raised here, namely my brothers and sisters.
Corridors led to other corridors, mazes of stairs, and more sitting rooms than any family needed. If I hadn’t grown up here, it would’ve been easy to get turned around in the many wings of The Queen of Bishop’s Landing.
But I knew where I was going.
Her throne awaited in the turret. I climbed the grand staircase to the second floor, a smaller staircase to the third, past the maid’s quarters, and took the final staircase to my mother’s office.
“Welcome home, Miss Constantine.” Justin smiled from behind his desk at the top of the stairs.
“Where is everyone?”
“Your mother is holding a video conference with overseas clients.” He touched a finger to his lips as if I needed a reminder to keep my voice low. “Your siblings are out.”
“Out where?”
“Don’t know.” He turned his gaze to his computer screen. “Would you like to make an appointment to see your mother?”
“Not really.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Is she working straight through until Christmas?”
“She’s very busy.”
I refused to schedule a time to see her. “If she wants to talk to me, she can come find me. I’ll be in the east guardhouse, fucking that new security guy I just ran into.” I fanned myself. “So. Hot.”
His face turned beet red, and he averted his eyes. “I’ll just put you down for eight a.m. on Friday.”
“Oh, yay,” I deadpanned. “What should I bring?”
“Good behavior.”
“Fuck that. I’m not coming.” I turned toward the stairs and glanced back, meeting his puppy eyes over my shoulder. “That single bag you packed for me? Fuck you. Also, you said no thongs. Wrong as usual, Justin. There’s butt floss underneath all those plaid skirts. You’re fired.”