Page 3 of Isle of Beauty

Seconds later, Igor breaks the lock and bursts into the room. He grips my aggressor by the collar of his dress shirt and throws punches at his face, causing more damage and pain. Between the punches and the knife sticking out his arm, Cal’s completely out of it.

“Igor! Hold him up and put his fucking hand on the sink.”

Anyone who says they always take their enemy on their own are liars. It’d be stupid of me to overestimate myself and get gutted in a bar for being too prideful. I’m smaller than this guy, and even with my years of training, I’m slightly inebriated, wearing an impractical dress and I barely have a weapon on me.

Well, it’s embedded on Cal so maybe it does count for something.

The blade I pull from his arm makes a squelching noise and Igor covers his mouth with his hand. Looking at him straight in his hateful eyes, I slice the blade across Cal’s pinky finger, severing it in one clean cut.

“Touch me again and you’ll lose the entire hand. Are we clear?” I think he might be going into shock because he’s not answering so I slap him hard across the face. “Are we fucking clear?”

He nods in confirmation and starts to cry.

“Call the cleaning crew and throw this joker out, please,” I ask Igor in between deep breaths.

He eyes me with concern but does as asked, getting Cal out of my sight. A well placed threat and a missing finger will be enough to silence him.

I could always mail his missing appendage to him, just in case.

I locate the cleaning closet and get supplies and the “closed” sign to wipe the scene. I can’t decently leave blood and a severed pinky on the floor of this place.

Thankfully, only two women come up to me and I redirect them to the men’s room, pretending I own the bar. I get to removing the blood from the counter and the floor and wrap the severed finger in a paper towel.

Ten minutes later, Sage and their crew come and sweep the place in a few minutes, finishing the poor job I started. They’re a tiny but scary thirty-year-old whom my dad put me in contact with when I landed here for my studies, making me promise I’d call them if I had an issue. They’ve never uttered a single word to me but always show up fast when I call, and send hefty invoices later.

I take just a few extra seconds to reapply my makeup and spray perfume1 into my hair. The bruise on my neck is covered with my dress, thank God.

That would certainly be unladylike.

What felt like a lifetime might have been a maximum of fifteen minutes.

When I get back to where Giulia sits, the pianist is playing and she eyes me up and down with knowing eyes. “Told you it’d be useful to wear a dark dress tonight,” she chimes with a smirk.

I down my drink and focus on the small stage once more.

Until I see him walk in.

1 Alana wears Baccarat Rouge 540 by Maison Kurkdjian

TWO

PIERCE

DARK GREEN MIGHT BE MY NEW FAVOURITE COLOUR

Ihate going out during the weekend. People are too excited on Fridays and too desperate on Saturdays. I usually come to Bad Company during the week. It’s quieter, giving me more opportunities to do administrative work, then enjoy one of my bartender’s creations.

I bought this place after my cyber-security firm, Pierce Security Company, surged a big contract. It’s where I can have more fun, more freedom and no goal of putting anyone behind bars.

Bad Company is just for me. And for people who enjoy long conversations in quieter places, with good music. I tried to create a sanctuary and very few people know I own it. If my family did, they’d probably ask me to launder money through it.

I haven’t dedicated my entire career to helping governments bag away criminals to become one myself. Even for Uncle Luc. And no way I’d give shit to my cousin Andrea, or his brother Nico.

Coincidentally, Louis, the young Chief Financial Officer of Pierce Security Company, insisted I join him here to meet his girlfriend, who comes here often and leaves the city on Sunday for an extended period of time.

As he opens the door to the bar and turns his back on me, I pass my hand over my face and groan at the thought of having to chit chat instead of tracking Alessio Bartoli’s activities, as I do every weekend since I started my company.

Louis often insists that I go out with him and “do things for fun”, though he isn’t the most cheerful of men either. He’s been nothing but helpful since I hired him so I guess I can make an effort.

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