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Whoops.
I pivot away from my drawing. "Sorry." I force a smile. "I was focused on my art."
Constantine's eyes travel to my window art. "It's a great drawing. Do you draw often during your free time?"
Aaaand… he asks what I do for fun. It's sad that no man has ever taken this much interest in me before, but I force myself to live in the moment. Constantine wants to learn about me, and that makes him the most special man ever.
"I try." I rest my head against Constantine's shoulder. "At school, I got in trouble for drawing aliens in my notebooks."
"In the candy store, too?" Constantine's voice is a low growl. "I remember you said you got fired from work, boy. Did that have something to do with your alien art?"
My cheeks flush pink. All at once, I make a mental note that I can never lie to Constantine. He reads mesowell, almost like he knows me better than myself.
"Maybe." I glance at my fading window art. "They had super cute green gummy bears I built chocolate bark rocket ships for during breaks. My manager didn't love that."
Constantine nods. "Come into my penthouse. I'd love to hear more about your life."
"Yes, Daddy."
Daddy. There it is again. I let out a groan and palm my forehead.
As Constantine leads me out of the limousine and into his elevator after we step inside his building, I chastise myself for slipping up so easily. Sure, I feel like Constantine's my Daddy, but for all I know, he's only doing this to be nice. After all, tonight he learned that I'm a clumsy boy whose boss let him go. Maybe he thinks I have no one looking out for me and he has an obligation to help me.
Or maybe Constantine is interested in you. Maybe you need to quit being so suspicious and trust that this man likes you, wants to get to know you, and wants to find out what makes you tick so he can be your Daddy. Quit being such a scaredy pants. Open your heart and let Constantine in.
Ding.
The sound of the elevator snaps me out of my daze. Constantine secures his grip on my hand and brushes a strand of hair over my ear.
"We made it, pretty boy." He blows out a breath. "My maid Natalija comes tomorrow, so there are a few dishes in the sink. Try your best to ignore them."
The door to the elevator opens… and I can barely believe my eyes.
Holy McIntosh apples. Constantine… liveshere?
A breath escapes me as I take in the luxurious penthouse. It overlooks the moonlit harbor and towers above the streets below, reminding me of a turret in a castle in a land far, far away.
"Constantine." My voice is breathless as I tilt my head up. "This is gorgeous."
Constantine leads me inside, then takes me to the sofa. "It's my city place." He moves a cushion back, and pats the sofa to motion for me to take a seat. "I live in the Hamptons most of the time. But I stay here when I come to Manhattan on business or to see a show."
I try to process the fact that Constantine has a place in the Hamptons too, but I can't. There's wealthy… and then there's whateverthisis.
Constantine has wealth I've never imagined. I've watched real estate developers and reality stars flaunt their homes on TV, but they don't have the resources like this. Constantine seems like he could buy up Wall Street with the snap of his fingers.
I look at Constantine's wrist and tremble. For the first time, I notice he has an expensive-looking blue watch with bezel diamonds, perched on top of a silver band, on his wrist. His cufflinks shimmer in the light of his penthouse, and I rub my palms on the black couch cushions to calm myself down.
"Are you a billionaire?" I query, eyeing him up and down. "I've never met anyone with an estate in Chelsea and the Hamptons before. You're pulling my leg."
This must be a joke. I'm provoking Constantine to tell me he's toying with me. After all, there's no way he's a billionaire, right?
"My accounts fluctuate daily." His voice is icy as he selects a bottle of sparkling water from a chilled cabinet next to the sofa and sets two glasses on the coffee table. "My wealth is heavily invested in the tech sector right now. I've taken a bit of a haircut this past month. But yes." He hands me a glass of cool sparkling water. "I'm a billionaire."
Something I can't quite place rockets through me. I take the glass of sparkling water, and force myself not to pass out.
Billionaire. The word hangs in the air like an incantation, a spell.
If I stay with Constantine tonight, I need to set a few things straight. This man is so sweet, so kind to me, but I'm not a gold digger. He needs to know that or I'm out.
