Page 19 of Isle of Beauty

The admission is enough to make my cheeks burn. I don’t know why I said that last part. It’s true but why I would feel compelled to reveal that about myself is a mystery.

Her eyes soften before crinkling with amusement. “I would have not pegged you for a patron of the arts.”

“My mother and I share a love for the theatre. I don’t recall much of my dad but it wasn’t his thing, so I’d go with my mother. It was our moment. Theatre is the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a person can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being.”

She bursts out laughing, loud and generous, and I want to bottle the sound. My own smile grows with hers, uncomfortable vulnerability replaced with the need to hear her laugh again.

“Alex Pierce, are you quoting Oscar Wilde to impress me?”

“Is it working?” I ask cheekily.

“Maybe.”

She blushes then, and that colour on her cheeks has my cock tense in my slacks. Lana isn’t shy and knowing I have that sort of effect on her is exhilarating.

The bell chimes, announcing the start of the play.

I direct her up the stairs to a private box, my hand on her lower back. I need the physical contact.

I craft her a gin & tonic at the bar set in the corner before taking a seat next to her. Our view of the stage is unrestricted but I won’t be looking at the play tonight. I have my eyes on something much more fascinating.

As the room goes dark and the actors step onto the stage for the first scene, I witness Lana moving toward the balcony, getting as close as she can. She’s engrossed in the performance playing in front of us.

The play is Lucrezia Borgia from French writer Victor Hugo, an incestuous tragedy telling the story of an affluent woman who fell in love with her own son she had with her brother, and died by his hand.

The next hour, I watch as she frowns, then smiles and gasps.

Like I have many times before while in this very room, she feels all the emotions warring in Lucrezia’ and Genaro’s hearts. She’s not trying to hide under a mask.

As the curtain falls on Lucrezia Borgia’ lifeless body, Lana’s hand closes over her mouth and a single tear escapes the corner of her eye.

Instead of standing to applause, she turns her gaze to me and in that single moment, she shares the entire content of her heart. I want to hold it in my hands like the precious gift it is.

I wipe the tear away with my thumb, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me, mo cara.”

“Family is everything to Lucrezia.” Her voice wavers. “She sacrificed everything for love. She died miserable and rejected. She’s… such a tragedy.”

I caress her cheek and she unconsciously leans into my touch, warming me from the inside out. I wait for her to continue. She’s breathtaking, unguarded like this.

“Lucrezia and I are not so different from each other. I’ll die for them too.” It sounds like a prediction more than a statement of love and my gut twists at the idea of anything bad happening to her.

“They’re lucky to have your devotion.” I smile at her wistfully. I’m shocked to realise what I would give to be on the receiving end of her fierce protectiveness.

“Who has yours?”

We stare at each other until the applause dies down and the lights turn on fully again. I move to stand up but she gently stops me with a hand on my forearm and looks at me expectantly.

I sigh heavily and avoid her gaze to look at people leaving the room under the balcony of the box. Speaking about my father always brings my blood to a boil but right now, I only feel tired. A heavy weight settles on my shoulders.

“My mother and half-brother… They’re all I have. My father…” I close my eyes and take a calming breath. “He’s not a good man. He raped my mother. She did all she could to escape him and give me a good life. I owe her everything.” My throat closes, making it hard to swallow but the weight starts to lift.

When I turn my eyes to Lana, anguish lines her beautiful face. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers to me, her voice a balm, and patiently waits for me to continue.

“I never told anyone this. Especially not my younger brother. He’s his son. I’m afraid of what he’ll become, living with a monster like that.”

“He’ll be fine if he has you. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

She takes my hand and links our fingers together.

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