That was sufficiently distracting to pull Sarita away from fretting over what she feared might be considered slutty behavior, and she eyed him now, wondering how long it had been since he'd slept with a woman. He was immortal-he could be two, maybe even three hundred years old. Had it been ten years? Twenty? Maybe even fifty years since he'd slept with a woman? As her father used to say, the only way to know was to ask, so she did.
"How long has it been since you slept with a woman? Before me," she added quickly in case he tried to avoid the answer by naming the incident on the lounge.
"Hmm." Domitian tipped his head, apparently having to think back a bit to remember, and then he nodded and said, "I believe it was when Auletes succeeded Alexander II."
Out of cappuccino but still thirsty, Sarita had just reached over to pick up the glass of wine he'd poured for her. Straightening with it in hand, she glanced to him with confusion. "Who? What now?"
"Sorry," Domitian said with a wry shrug. "I should have said when Ptolemy XII Neos Dionysos succeeded Ptolemy XI Alexander II as King of Egypt."
Sarita stared blankly, and then simply said, "Huh?"
Domitian frowned and offered, "Neos Dionysos was also known as Auletes or Nothos, does that help?"
"Are you kidding me? Hell no, it doesn't help! What are you talking about?" she asked with exasperation. "Egypt has presidents not kings, and right now it's some guy named el Sissy or something."
"El-Sisi," he corrected with amusement. "And yes, they have presidents now, but the leaders were kings when I lived there. Or Pharaohs."
"Pharaohs?" she gasped. "Seriously? Pharaohs?"
"Si." He nodded, seeming fascinated with the expressions flittering across her face.
"But Pharaohs are-That was back before-Christ, you-"
"Si, pharaohs reigned before Christ," he said with a nod. "Then the Romans invaded in about 30 b.c. and they carried the title of emperor for-What is the matter? Are you all right? Why are you gulping your wine?" he asked with concern.
Sarita just shook her head and downed the rest of the wine in her once-full glass. By the time she finished, she was gasping for air. Setting the empty glass on the tray, she gave her head a shake and then glared at Domitian for a minute as she regained her breath, before saying, "Please do not tell me that you are trying to tell me that-you're telling me-"
"Concentrate, mi Corazon," he encouraged. "You can get it out."
"You are not telling me that you were born in 30 b.c.," she said firmly.
"No," Domitian agreed, turning to tug the sheet aside and grab the wine bottle off the bedside table.
"Thank God," Sarita muttered, her body relaxing.
"Thirty b.c. is when I last enjoyed copulation with a female . . . other than yourself of course," he explained, letting the sheet drop back into place and turning with the bottle. "I was born in 260 b.c."
"No, you weren't," she said at once.
"Si, I was," he assured her and began to pour more wine into her glass.
"No, you-Just give me the bottle," she muttered and snatched it from his hand when he stopped pouring and glanced to her with surprise at the request. Ignoring that, Sarita raised the bottle to her lips to drink straight from it.
"The detective I hired did not mention a drinking problem," Domitian said dryly as he watched her chug.
Sarita glared at him around the bottle, but then stopped chugging and lowered it. She held on to it, though, and simply stared at him for several moments.
Ignoring her, Domitian slid another profiterole onto a plate and offered it to her.
Sarita was so annoyed with him she almost refused out of principle. But the profiteroles were so good, and it wasn't their fault she was annoyed with him. It seemed unfair to take out her anger on them so she took the plate, muttering a very short "Thank you."
"De nada," Domitian murmured, watching her cut off a large piece of profiterole and pop it in her mouth.
In her irritation, she wasn't paying much attention to what she was doing and the piece was much larger than she'd intended. Not dangerously so, but it meant a lot of chewing and moving food around in her mouth before swallowing to be sure she didn't choke. The entire time she did, Sarita glared at Domitian.
"I do not understand your distress," he said as he watched her chew. "You said that Dressler had explained about the nanos and our being immortal and such."
Sarita swallowed the food in her mouth, took a drink of wine from the bottle to clear her throat, and then nodded. "Yes. Immortal. But I was thinking-you know-a hundred years old, maybe two . . . not two thousand!"