Page 156 of Syndicate of Sin Bundle

“Can I see?” I asked.

Constantino tensed and looked down at me. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I’m too anxious right now,” I whispered honestly.

“Is Laila rubbing off on you?”

“No, I just don’t want to go home. It’s so peaceful here.”

“No foul-mouthed best friends,” Constantino agreed.

My lips curled into a small smile. “Nope.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his playful gaze traveling across my face, and then he handed me his phone. I sat up against him, laying Laila on my lap and resting my head on his shoulder. I scrolled from left to right, glancing at all the pictures he had taken on our trip to Italy. All of Laila in her most candid moments.

Butterflies fluttered through my stomach, a smile creeping onto my face. She looked so happy, like she wasn’t an insecure mess, the way she was back home, like she absolutely loved her life with Constantino. And, God, I wanted that so badly.

I wanted the love that they had for each other. I wanted to feel so happy with somebody.

When I scrolled to the left once more, I stared at a candid shot of me with a dab of sunscreen on my nose.

My eyes widened, and I sucked in a breath.

Constantino grabbed the phone from me and looked away, his cheeks tinting bed.

“What was that?” I whispered, still in shock.

“Nothing,” he said a bit too quickly. “It’s nothing.”

“Did you take pictures of me?”

I wasn’t angry. I just couldn’t believe it.

He had all these pictures of Laila and some of me too? Maybe Laila had asked him to take some pictures of us together. But … she wasn’t in that picture. It was of me alone, lying in the middle of his yacht.

“I just …” he stammered, cheeks flushing even redder.

I never thought I would see it in my entire life, but Constantino—the big, macho Mafia boss who didn’t give a shit about anything—was blushing because I had called him out on taking a picture of me.

“Can I see it again?” I asked, nervously.

After a couple of quiet moments, he handed me back the phone. I stared at the image and smiled softly, butterflies fluttering in my tummy. He must’ve taken it after Laila dabbed sunscreen on my body. I thought he had been sleeping that whole time, but he had been watching us.

“Do you have any more photos of our trip?” I asked.

He paused for a moment, an uncomfortable expression crossing his face, but then he wiped it away quickly. “Yes,” he said, his voice sounding the same way it had the first night I met him—hard and almost cold. Or maybe he was just guarding himself.

Hesitantly, I scrolled to the left again and saw another picture of me. And then I scrolled again and again and again. The rest were of me, sometimes with Laila scattered in with me, ordering breakfast or smoothies by the beach.

I handed him back the phone and gazed up at him, my heart racing. I didn’t know what to say. What were you supposed to say when the guy you had a crush on had pictures of you on his phone? I wasn’t sure, but my heart was racing.

“Why?” I asked. “Why do you have pictures of me?”

He stared at me for a long time, not saying anything, but his eyes searched mine. I expected a cold, callous answer from him because he was the big, bad boss of the city, but he moved closer to me and took my chin gently in his hand.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Because you … because you wanted to?” I repeated.

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