Page 6 of The Breaker
“Yes, I do.” He took another drink of his wine and looked out at the dark sea.
We fell into silence, and he continued to stare, looking at nothing in particular as far as I could tell. His mind seemed to be elsewhere.
And I suspected I knew exactly where it’d gone.
There were times when he was happy, when he smiled brighter than the sun, teased me and slapped me on the ass, and we were perfect together. But these moments continued to come back, and I suspected they always would.
I followed his gaze to the sea and saw a collection of small boats and their multicolored lights on the surface of the water. Blue, red, green, and yellow. I had no idea what they were for. “Do you know what they’re doing out there?”
His eyes flicked away from the random spot he was looking at and focused on the boats. “Fishing for octopus. They’re nocturnal and attracted to the lights.”
“Oh, interesting. Have you ever fished for octopus?”
He shook his head. “I don’t eat octopus.”
“You just said you eat anything.”
He smirked. “Well, it’s the one exception.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because I respect them. One of the most intelligent creatures on the planet, too smart to be food. I’ve seen them when I’ve gone diving before. They’re different from fish and other seafood.”
“That’s actually really sweet.” And really compassionate for someone who policed gangs and killed people for breaking his laws.
“You’re welcome to eat it in front of me. Don’t change your diet because of me. It doesn’t bother me. My mom makes it every Sunday, so it’s not an issue. Just my personal decision.”
I didn’t say it out loud so as not to make him uncomfortable, but if he didn’t eat octopus, then I wouldn’t either. I would stand by him in whatever he believed in. I knew if the situation were reversed, he would do the same.
He stared at the ocean again, still in his introspective mood. I noticed that ever since we’d left Rome, his phone didn’t go off all hours of the night and he wasn’t constantly sending texts. He was hardly on his phone at all now. There would’ve been no way for us to sit through a six-course dinner like this without his phone lighting up on the table every couple seconds.
The quiet was nice, but the calm was riddled with guilt. I knew it wasn’t my fault that Darius had cornered me in the house, but I still felt responsible for Constantine losing his passion. He loved me enough to sacrifice it all without hesitation.
“I’ve been thinking about what to do with my time now, since all my clients are in Rome.” I’d canceled all my shoots and told them I was no longer in business. I’d refunded everyone’s money and had received some nasty emails, but I never told Constantine about any of that because I knew he’d lost far more than I did.
“I can get you accounts at the hotels. They always have weddings and events.”
Oh, I hadn’t considered his endless line of connections. “Actually, I was thinking of taking a break from photography.”
The waiter came over and brought Constantine’s first course, a soup.
Constantine turned to me directly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I started to get burned out toward the end. I like taking the photos, but sitting at a computer for hours and editing them is what wears me down. And working all hours of the day and nights and weekends gets old too.”
He listened to me with his full attention, wearing a black button-up collared shirt that was stressed around his arms and shoulders from the muscles bulging there. He had a private gym in the house, and despite the turmoil he suffered, he continued to work out in the morning andlater in the afternoon, keeping his muscle mass like he was still prepared for a fight. “Then don’t work. Even after everything that happened, money is no issue, so don’t worry about that.”
I had no idea what his financial situation was, but I would never ask. He said the palace had been given to him, he hadn’t bought it, so all his assets must be in other places. He already owned his place here in Taormina, and it was a twenty-million-euro home—at least. “It’s not about the money. It’s about purpose.”
He continued that hard stare without needing to blink, a stare I noticed he never gave to anyone else. When he talked with his friends, he was animated and reactive, not quiet and intense like he was with me. He wasn’t like that with Rocco either. Not his family. No one. “I can understand that. Have any ideas?”
“Actually, I wanted to know if I could help at the restaurant.”
He blinked before his eyebrows furrowed. “At Rosticceria Da Cristina?”
“Yeah, I thought it could be fun. I could help in the kitchen. I could be a waitress in the main restaurant. I could spend more time with your mom. Just a thought. If you think it’s a stupid idea, you won’t hurt my feelings—”
“I don’t think it’s a stupid idea. Just surprised, is all.”
