Page 27 of Caesar DeLuca
“It really bothers you that I live this way?” I say slowly. “It bothers you I said I don’t want your help?”
“Let’s finish the movie.”
“You always demand I answer your questions.”
“It took almost two days to get you to tell me your name is Ariana,” he points out.
Touché. But it’s no less true he’s not free flowing with information himself.
I follow him back toward the sofa and pick up my half-eaten pack of Twizzlers. The plastic crinkles under my fingertips.
“We’re stuck together for the next few days,” I say. “Just the next few days. Then I’m assuming you’ll want to be on your way. I’ll be relieved I have solitude again. It’ll be the end of whatever this is. But why can’t we at least… pretend we’re something like friends ’til then? We can talk and spend time together like friends do.”
Caesar eyes me for a long moment. “You’re saying you want to tell each other things?”
“Not everything. But… like friends do.”
“Alright,” he agrees with a nod. He watches me as I settle back down on the couch. “Then tell me, Ariana, who did these clothes belong to and why have you held onto them?”
“I told you, my ex-boy?—”
“Specifics.”
Sighing, I search for what I can share. “They belong to an ex-boyfriend of mine, Freddie. We dated for a few years.”
“How serious were things?”
“We lived together… for a while. But we were too different, and I couldn’t handle all the complications. He probably doesn’t even remember that I have a few of his t-shirts and pants. I didn’t either ’til I found you.”
Caesar’s expression remains composed listening to my revelation. I can’t tell if he’s satisfied with the answer I’ve given or he’s stewing in more confusing irritation. The prospect of some ex-boyfriend wandering around my home seems to bother him.
“What about you? You mentioned a wife and mistress…”
“I’m not married yet.”
“But… you meant what you were saying. You’re going to have a wife and mistress?”
“Most men in my lifestyle do. It is to be expected in the types of marriages men like me have.”
A frown crawls onto my lips. “And their wives are… they’re fine with that?”
“They get their own perks.”
“Your wife would have to be okay with it?”
He narrows his eyes at me. Sapphires so dark they’re almost black. “I suppose she would have to accept the possibility. Though… never mind.”
“Never mind what?”
“I said never mind. I’m not musing any more on the subject of wives and mistresses.”
“You sounded like you had another thought. I’m interested to hear it,” I say. My earnest pleas don’t go unnoticed. I might be laying it on thick with fluttery-lashed blinks and a curious, open expression.
Caesar glances at me and prompts a quiver of nerves inside my belly. Mostly because I can tell he’s deep in his head, his thoughts on me. It’s in the wondrous gleam that suddenly shines in his gaze and the way he holds his jaw.
But what could he be thinking? Why could he be peering over at me like he is?
“I’m very particular about the women I have,” he says plainly. “The woman I choose to marry will be the only one. If for no other reason than I prefer familiarity.”
