Page 9 of Isle of Beauty

If only he knew how many abandoned buildings I use for murder.

He holds the door open for me and warmth spreads in my chest at his gentlemanly manners, even as I suspect they don’t extend to the bedroom. The promise of his earlier words comes back to me and I shiver.

Inside, the smell of the wooden oven and fresh homemade dough wafts to my nostrils. I take a deep inhale, transported back to my own family home for a moment, almost hearing the laughter of my grandmother as she prepared dinner.

The restaurant is small but quaint. Dark wooden floors and just five tables for two people and one larger one for groups standing around the room gives the impression of intimacy. A white long candle is lit on each table, lined with a red and white chequered tablecloth. On the walls hang horrendous renditions of gondolas on the canals of Venice. It actually adds to the charm.

My stomach growls with hunger with the smell and the atmosphere of a well-shared meal that surrounds the place.

A sixty years-old man with an apron on whom I suspect to be Tino welcomes Pierce with a warm smile and vigorous handshake.

“I haven’t seen you in too long, bambino. What are you eating? You lost weight!”

I scoff. Pierce is a mountain of a man, easily two hundred pounds of muscles on six foot four, dwarfing my five foot three.

“And who do we have here?” he asks, glancing at me as if Pierce was his son and I was his soon to be bride. As if that could ever happen.

Pierce introduces me and places a hand at the small of my back. He lights a fire under my skin yet again. His touch scorches the place where his fingers meet my naked back.

“I’m warning you, my grandmother used to cook the best pizza so you have a hard challenge ahead of you to impress me.”

“I live for a good challenge. Lisandru and I have that in common.”

He winks. I turn to Pierce in shock, just in time to catch a deep frown settling on his handsome face.

“Lisandru? Is that your name?”

I’m the only one who catches the slight waver at the end of my words. He hasn’t moved his hand away and directs me towards a table at the corner of the restaurant, by the window.

Lisandru is not a common name. And it’s a name originating from Kalliste, our own version of Alexander.

I’m suddenly feeling dizzy, my breath coming in short pants. I hope he doesn’t notice.

Illuminated by the single candle and string lights, the place feels inviting, like secrets are told at these tables with the walls the only witnesses. Is that why he brought me here? Because he knows my family and wants me to reveal our plans? We don’t have enemies on the territory but I’ve never met this man or heard of him before so I have no clue who he could be affiliated to.

“Yes. Pierce is mine and my mother’s surname. Lisandru is a name from the island of Kalliste. Only my mother calls me that. I prefer Alex since I have been living here so long. Or just Pierce.”

“You don’t go to Kalliste often then? Don’t you have family there?”

“We’re not on speaking terms. I haven’t set foot on the island in more than twenty years.”

My shoulders relax and my heartbeat settles to a natural rhythm. I shouldn’t take his words at face value just because he’s kind - and I definitely want to fuck him - but something in the way he says it clears my suspicions.

Clouds seem to settle on his shoulders at the mention of our home and his family.

I have first hand experience with family feuds and how long they can last. My father doesn’t speak to his cousins because they refused to come to my grandmother’s funeral. And there’s no longing in Pierce’s voice when he speaks of Kalliste or his name. He remains factual. No emotional attachment there then.

My heart gives a little somersault at knowing this piece of him that I’m sure he doesn’t share with many people. And that we have something else in common, even though he won’t know it.

I want to know more and ask him about his mother but his eyes have changed. Where there was mischief minutes ago, his expression has now sobered.

He abruptly starts telling me about the amazing menu choices and delicious pizzas.

I don’t insist because I want to see him smile. It’s so stupid but it’s also visceral. I can’t stand to witness the storm raging behind his whiskey eyes. I just want him to be at ease. With me. I want to share a moment we can both remember, that won't be tainted by sadness or anger.

When our pizzas arrive, I delve into mine like a starved animal. I savour each cheesy bite with a satisfied groan.

Pierce stares at me.

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