Page 5 of Isle of Beauty

I don’t lose control.

Ever.

I sit at my office and open our software, intent on calming my raging heartbeat and getting a certain pair of dark green eyes out of my mind.

I review the past week’s sales and get the contract for the new bartender sorted and signed.

An email pops up inviting me to a conference where my cousin Andrea is the main speaker. As if I’d ever pay to see the prick talk. He loves the sound of his voice so much he probably doesn’t even need an audience. And I don’t need to give money to my main competitor.

Next, I answer my uncle Luc’s texts. He’s been trying to recruit my company to help with his new business venture with a Russian businessman but I haven’t done my due diligence yet to back him up.

Me

I’ll come for dinner next week but I’m not promising anything. You know where I stand.

Luc

Of course, son. You know I wouldn’t put you in danger.

He absolutely would.

Luc

And call your mom, bastard. She’s worried about you. You know how she gets.

Ilook at my watch; thirty minutes have passed. When I’m working, nothing else matters; I get into a state of flow. Working eases my mind. That's all I know. And that’s how I like it.

My mind and body have calmed but it’s like a magnet is pulling me to return to the main floor.

I check the cameras.

Lana sits at the same spot as before, shoulders relaxed, laughing at something her cousin just said. I zoom in on the column of her throat as she throws her head back. I groan as images of her on top of me doing just that assault me.

Back at fucking square one.

I sigh heavily. Apparently, it’s a lost battle to try to control myself where the beautiful stranger is concerned.

I’m about to get off my chair and join them, itching to be close to this woman, when I spot a man on the other side of the bar. In his early thirties, dark short hair, strong build and looking intently in the girls’ direction.

My blood turns hot and rushes to my ears. This asshole is looking at her.

My mind is blank when I step outside the office and back into the bar.

THREE

LANA

DON’T KINK-SHAME A MAFIA HEIR FOR BEING TURNED ON BY VIOLENCE

Ihaven’t met a man that turns my head like Pierce does since I was sixteen years-old. When he entered the bar, he caught my eyes with his tall frame and piercing brown eyes. My throat dried and a delicious heated shiver rose up my spine.

Built like a rugby player, he commands the attention of the room and mine along with it. With dark hair, thick brows and clean-shaven jaw, he’d look menacing if not for the easy smile he gave Giulia.

When he turns to me, it’s like the people around us disappear.

With a small half-smile, his eyes locked on mine, he takes my outstretched hand and brushes his lips to my knuckles. I’m not sure why I feel like my insides are melting.

If I were not so focused on him, I might miss the way his eyes go to my lips before he steps back, excuses himself and disappears behind a door saying “staff” just behind the bar.

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