Page 88 of Isle of Beauty

My eyes widen and I look up. The betrayal is way beyond anything I’d imagine. Pierce is looking away but I don’t miss the way his shoulders curve inward with shame or how his head tilts down in defeat and remorse.

“How could you?” I breathe, the sound of my heart breaking loud in the room.

“Keep reading.”

I give him the benefit of the doubt, hoping he didn’t nurse me back to life over the past two weeks just to tell me he’s cutting my heart from my chest and giving it away to the vultures.

The exchanges pick up about four weeks ago, which coincide with the moment when Pierce was allowed in our labs and introduced to our drug trade. However, there is no information on these emails. All I read is Pierce promising the delivery of the file against his father but he never actually piped a word about what he saw.

I land on the last email.

As per section 15.b of our contract, Pierce Security Company has made the executive decision to cancel its commitment to INTERPOL on case no. B-156, effective immediately.

“What’s section 15.b, Pierce?” I ask him, unsure if I want to know or not. The use of his name makes him flinch and I’d almost feel guilty if I wasn’t pissed for the fucking rollercoaster he put me through.

“Compromised reporter.”

I stay silent.

I was right. He wanted to sell us out. Even though the exchanges involve his father, Alessio Bartoli doesn’t do anything without Pietro Moretti and by extension, Julian and me. We were all going to fall.

He comes to sit next to me and takes my hands, but doesn’t look at me yet. “My whole life I wanted to put my father behind bars. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t hate him. He was a criminal, a rapist and he deserved to be in jail for it. Or so I thought. I’ve worked my ass off to build a career that would help me do that. And then I met you. And you changed everything.”

He looks up at me then, his eyes honest and piercing. I see the torment in the whiskey depth. I can feel his raw pain from every word that leaves his lips. He reaches out to touch my cheek with gentle fingers, barely caressing the skin as if he doesn’t believe he deserves to touch me anymore.

“When I landed here, I thought I could have it all. I thought I could have you and fulfil my revenge. But I was wrong. I thought I could save you from a life of crime but you saved me from a life of hate.”

I crush my lips to his, not letting him doubt for another second that I’d walk through fire and kill hundreds of men if it meant to have him by my side. I climb on top of him, bracketing his hips with my thighs, and move my arms around his neck, never stopping to kiss him.

When I come up for air, my hands frame his face and I force him to look at me, giving him all of me.

“You saved me from a life of solitude, amore.”

He gulps and kisses me again, sending all his anguish into it. I could let him consume me but I want him to acknowledge what he did and what that will mean for us.

“Say it,” I whisper.

“I choose you. I choose this.”

His gaze is nothing like the meek one he gave me a few minutes ago. It’s fuelled with renewed passion, with determination and love. Fire dances in his irises and I’ll burn in it every day for the rest of my days.

“I severed the ties with Interpol and gave my company to Andrea.”

“You did what?” I ask incredulously.

“It was the only way to protect you and to protect our family. I destroyed evidence in a criminal case, baby.”

“No better way to become a real criminal than to kill a man and compromise sensitive documents,” I chuckle. “Welcome to the Moretti Family, baby.”

“I’d do it all over again to keep you safe.”

EPILOGUE

PIERCE

9 MONTHS LATER

I’m standing at the altar, more nervous than I’ve ever been before. The party is waiting in the garden of the Moretti Family Home, a small gathering of our closest friends and family. The people we love. The people we chose.

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