Page 50 of Isle of Beauty

Giulia makes her way into my wardrobe, and I already know I’m either going to love her for it or regret our friendship.

On one hand, I want to look good enough to eat and drive Pierce completely crazy. On the other, this is a formal reception, with politicians, journalists and criminals alike. My persona as a respectable business owner who collects secrets that can ruin anyone needs to be reflected through my attire.

I tell Giulia as much and then hear her cackling.

Fuck.

She sits on my bed with a conspiratory smile before her eyes soften. “Look Lana, I know it’s not what you planned but let’s be honest here for a second. You were so sad to leave Lisandru…”

“Pierce,” I interrupt. He’s not from here and I refuse to use his given name.

“Fine. You were sad to leave Pierce behind three years ago. You talked about him constantly the week after we left and the first week of your marriage. You two had a connection. And I’m pretty sure he came back to explore it. You even kept his shirt, for fuck’s sake.”

The tips of my ears heat up at my little secret being revealed so casually, but after all, she was the one picking up the pieces of my shattered heart. It’s not like I was in love or some shit but Pierce represented everything that could have been. “How do you fucking know that?”

“I didn’t,” she says triumphantly and I roll my eyes while a faint blush creeps up my neck.

“That’s ridiculous, G. I’m sure he’s just here for the money. I’ll even concede he has a plan to help Julian be with who he loves but that has nothing to do with me. Whether he wants to admit it or not, loyalty to his family is a driving force, just like it is for us.”

Believing that Pierce came here for me is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. I’m not sorry for what I did and who I am, but unless you’re part of the same world, there’s no way you will accept that your soon-to-be-wife is a murderer and drug dealer. The fact that he helped me kill an enemy without remorse this afternoon is an anomaly, a temporary glitch.

The look she gives me is the same she’d give a child who thinks Santa exists; I’m a cute delusional baby, and she won’t burst my bubble just yet.

“Sure, babe. The way he looks at you has nothing to do with you and everything to do with Julian.” Sarcasm oozes from her but she lets it go.

She kisses my cheeks and goes back to the wardrobe to get the dress she selected for me. When she comes back, she smirks like a cat who’s eaten the canary. My eyes widen in recognition, my heart pumping faster and heat coiling low in my belly.

If a garment has this effect on me, I can only imagine the effect it’ll have on him.

With that thought, a wide grin spreads on my lips.

I make my way down the stairs and my father comes up the first two steps to take my hand to his elbow and accompany me outside where our guests are gathered. “You look beautiful, figliola.”

He stops before the double doors leading to the garden and smiles at me. “Remember that this might change the dynamics of power. Allies and enemies are always shifting and some might think we’re at our most vulnerable while training Lisandru. Keep your wits about you.”

“Have I ever not been the smart daughter you raised?”

“Don’t sass me,” he admonishes. “I don’t know what happened between you and Lisandru Bartoli but you two know each other, that much is obvious. I’m a man of my word so I’ll honour the contract but we don’t know what he wants.”

“Yes, yes. I know the drill. I’ll keep my enemy close, babbu.”

“I don’t doubt you will.” I don’t miss the innuendo or the waggles of his eyebrows and I scoff.

He opens the doors then. On the other side, the garden is filled with some of our closest people, family, and important politicians we deal with on a regular basis. My sister Angèle and her husband, Lino Santorini, who’s none other than the media tycoon of Kalliste, handpicked the journalists covering our reception.

And Pierce. His eyes flare with fire reflected in my own body and the heat scorches my soul. His hands have tightened into fists and his knuckles turned white. He looks like he might pounce any second and devour me. And I’d let him.

He wears a deep green suit, matching the exact colour of my dress, the same one I wore when we first met. To anyone looking from the outside, it just looks like we coordinated our outfits like little love fools. To us, it’s a shared secret, a page in our history that disappeared behind lies and betrayal.

The crisp white shirt he wears under the suit is impeccably pressed and the three top buttons are open to reveal his tanned chest. His shoulders look even wider than I remembered from a few days ago when I saw him at Marcels’ gym.

Lisandru Pierce Bartoli in designer suit is sin incarnate. And I’ll crawl on my knees to Hell.

In two steps, he stands at my side. His smug smirk tells me I took my time to peruse his body. My scowl is definitely back in place. Nothing worse than a man who knows he’s hot to douse the flames of arousal. But fuck me, Pierce has just poured gasoline all over my body and set the match with his eyes.

“Seeing something you like, mo cara?”

“Not particularly,” I lie but it falls flat.

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