Page 8 of Isle of Beauty

The question throws me off. No one’s ever bothered to ask me what I want yet I’ve known this man for all of ten minutes and he’s already peeling the layers of my heart to dissect the desires within.

I’m silent for a moment but he’s not pushing. He waits patiently for me to answer and somehow, that space he just created means more than any other gift I’ve received before.

I raise my hand to my glass and our fingers graze accidentally when he reaches for his. Goosebumps scatter over my body. His eyes drop to my legs and I know he notices.

And likes it if the darkness in his eyes is anything to go by.

I lean in, ready to kiss him, but then remember he asked me a question.

I want to go home, yes, but I won’t. I settle on the first part of the truth. “Yes. My family and our business are all I’ve ever known and we have a strong vision on how it should expand. I’m excited for our future.”

I continue talking about growing up with the pressure of taking over, of having strict parents, something we have in common apparently.

Before he can ask more questions that I won’t be able to answer, I ask “So, you’re a businessman by day and bar owner by night?”

His eyes crinkle at the edges, his lips forming a gentle smile.“I bought it a couple of years ago after a big contract with my main company. The pressure was intense and I needed an outlet, a place to ground me.”

“You couldn’t have found a hobby?”

His bashful smile takes my breath away. “I’m not sure I’d know what to do with myself if I weren’t working.” We have that in common. “It also gave me the opportunity to give back to people in my life that matter to me, and create a sanctuary.”

He proceeds to tell me the story of the people who make Bad Company.

John is an ex-con who went to jail for stealing cars in his youth and struggled to get by when he was released. Apparently, Pierce knew him from his uncle and alluded to John getting in with the wrong crowd.

I have a feeling there’s a story there and I don’t miss the way his lips curl when he mentions his uncle. I don’t push even though I want to know every single secret he harbours. I hold back because it would not be fair to him or to me. I’m leaving soon.

Milo, is the son of his doorman and dyslexic. The school system wasn’t kind to him and he never finished high school but he loves music. Pierce employs him on Friday as a pianist and as bartender the rest of the week.

In my experience, nice deeds mean guilty conscience and I promise myself to look him up. But right now, in the low light of the bar, I just see a kind and compassionate man who did really well for himself and needs to share it.

I’m impressed by the small bits of history I’m getting and I want to know more of them, collect them as little gems for my future cold and lonely nights. Good men seldom exist so I’m going to hold onto the mirage that he’s one of them.

It also helps that he’s easy on the eyes, to say the least. His white oxford shirt barely contains his muscular chest and his arms bulge as he picks up his drink. I can’t help but fixate on his long fingers and veiny hands. It’s as though he’s clutching his glass rather than touch me.

I want nothing more than to push him.

Giulia and Louis leave us to go dancing when the club across the street opens but before I can get up to join them, Pierce skitters a finger on my knee, snapping my attention to him.

The barely there touch sets my skin on fire more than a firm hand would.

I’m suddenly aware that our bodies have moved closer as we talked animatedly about our most recent - and safe - past. He made space in between his legs to accommodate me and his knees graze outside of mine.

“I’d like to take you somewhere,” he says in a husky tone that makes me want to melt to his feet and agree to any suggestion he might have.

We’re practically sharing breath now. If I lean in, our lips will collide. I want nothing more than to taste the gin on his tongue.

“A little presumptuous of you,” I laugh.

I’ve known this man for two hours and I can’t even blame my feelings on being horny. Of course, I’d love to take him to bed but it’s more than that. He’s nothing like the men I’ve known before.

“I was thinking of feeding you first.” Amusement lines his eyes. He leans to my ear, his other hand landing on my ribs. “But make no mistake, Lana, my intentions with you are far from innocent.”

My breath hitches when he nips at my earlobe, my core clenching around nothing. I grin up at him and stand up to take his hand, waiting for him to lead the way.

We walk in comfortable silence, both with a mischievous smile on our faces, stealing glances at each other like teenagers. After a while, he stops in front of what looks like an abandoned pizzeria.

“I promise I’m not inviting you to an abandoned building to murder you. Tino makes the best pizzas in town but he isn’t keen on maintaining his storefront. Says he likes the charm and if people wander inside, it’s because they want his food and not to take pictures for their social media.”

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