Page 37 of Isle of Beauty

The energy in the room is suffocating, infused with distrust and violence thrumming in every corner. I register my dad and my uncle, seated at the two chairs placed in front of the desk, facing toward the seating area in the right corner of the room where Alessio sits. Dominic stands behind Umberto, ready to pounce and wreak violence on the threat against the patriarchs.

Igor isn’t invited to dinner or council. I wish I could lean on him right now, understand what trap I just walked into.

Julian leans against the fireplace but his inscrutable face contrasts with the casual stance. He’s usually so easy to read but tonight, his face is closed off, cold even. That’s definitely not a good sign.

Whatever is happening, it’s linked to the man looking out the window, his back to the room. That fucker is either dumb or very confident nothing can happen to him. You don’t turn your back in a room full of made men and a made woman. Especially not me. I’ll stab you in the back faster than you can cry for help.

I despise overconfident men. They usually hate it when they find out I run the Moretti empire in truth. This one reeks of self-importance. He’s dressed to the nines in a crisp white shirt that fits his muscular build, and refined chequered navy slacks that engulfs his perfect buttocks. Standing with his hands in his pockets, I can’t help to notice that his sleeves are up to his elbows, showcasing perfect unmarked veiny forearms.

I don’t like the image my brain conjures up of them flexing as strong hands squeeze my throat.

Fuck, I need to get laid, prestu.

I haven’t seen his face yet but whoever this man is, I already know he’s going to be handsome. As all annoying motherfuckers who want to ruin a woman are.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say our guest is a bearer of bad news. Dad, Alessio, zio, cuginu, Jules, always a pleasure to see you start a meeting without me.” Cloying sarcasm drips from my every word.

No one speaks for a long weighed moment that has my anxiety spiking up. The stranger at the window hasn’t moved a bit. If he weren’t standing, I’d ask myself if he’s even breathing.

Finally, Alessio stands and comes to kiss me on each cheek but it seems more intentional than usual. Unlike all the times he greeted me before, it’s slower, as if to give me time to brace myself. “Forgive us, cara nora, we’ve got carried away.” He pauses. “Let me introduce you to my son and your new fiancé, Lisandru.”

I reel back as if slapped and my mouth drops open. Cold sweat peppers my skin and my heart goes on overdrive. The room unfocuses for an instant.

“Hello, Lana.” His deep voice brings the office room back into focus and sends a delicious shiver through my body. I barely restrain from closing my eyes to savour it.

They must become the size of saucers as I slowly look from Alessio’s face to the stranger, Lisandru. I control myself quickly and take in the man in front of me, the man who’s haunted my every thought day and night for three fucking years.

Lisandru Pierce is Lisandru Bartoli.

I’m at a loss for words. It’s not like I didn’t know that Alessio had a son with his first wife and that she kidnapped him, hid him and tried to have Alessio killed more times than I can count. It simply never occurred to me that the man I shared so much in such a short amount of time could ever be that man. He told me his father raped his mother but I know Alessio. He’d never do that.

I knew the stranger would be handsome and potentially ruin women. He certainly ruined me and looks like he’s set on doing so much worse.

The past three years have done nothing to assuage the need I have to be close to him, to touch him. He looks like a fucking god in all its glory, like he belongs here. Light stubble lines his jaw and I want to run my hands through it, caress its roughness until the feel of it is seared into memory and I can invoke it every time I miss him. His aura fills the room and now I understand where the violent vibrations come from.

He looks at me with cold disdain, perusing me from head to toe, probably finding me lacking. I can’t bear the weight of his eyes on me but I feel like I’d die if he stops. I can’t bear to see the absence of heat in his eyes or worse, pain and resentment. I abandoned him. He laid himself bare to me and I trampled his vulnerability as if it meant nothing.

It meant everything.

Better to hide my embarrassment behind false rage. “What the fuck is this?”

A rictus forms at the corner of his mouth, snapping me back to reality and reminding me that he’s the enemy right now.

Julian and I work hard to create something new with the Bartoli-Moretti enterprise. And that motherfucker jeopardises it by being here.

His presence threatens his own brother’s life. That more than anything fans the flame of anger to simmer inside me. That asshole has been gone for twenty-five years, never caring to visit Kalliste, barely caring for Julian, and he’s showing up now, threatening everything we built. Threatening Julian himself even if he doesn’t realise it.

He’s about to understand that actions have consequences. I’ll make him regret having me for a fiancée and a wife. If he can even make it to the altar.

SIXTEEN

PIERCE

THE QUEEN IN HER QUEENDOM

Ithought I was prepared. I thought I knew what I was doing but the truth hits me in the face, painful and brutal.

I had no fucking clue until she walked in and sucked all the air out of the room.

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