Page 35 of Isle of Beauty

This time, I don’t miss the flinch and the tiny wince on his face before his mask of indifference matches my own. It’s like looking through a mirror. Regret. Pain. And longing.

Alessio gestures for me to sit at the corner of his office. While he gets me a drink that I suppose will be whisky or something equally manly and pretentious, I take a look around and note the expensive-looking desk made of cherry wood and the leather chair he was sitting on. It has a reinforced pillow at the bottom of the back, reminding me of his age, of the time that has passed since he last saw me, since I last saw him. His desk is neat and organised but his computer is still open. If he cares that I disrupted his peace and plans, he doesn’t show.

The two club seats facing each other in the corner of the room, just under the window facing the sea, are luxurious under my hand. Somehow, without even trying, this room and this man makes me feel like I’m eight years-old again, waiting for him to pay attention to me, to teach me how to be more like him, before I learned the truth.

Anger flares again in my gut. I’m ready to implement my plan and get the fuck out of here.

A single painting decorates the light grey walls that contrast with the dark wooden floors and the anthracite mantel framing the hearth on the right of Alessio’s desk. Placed above the mantel, it’s a sort of impressionist image of a woman holding the hands of a baby trying to walk. She has Venetian Blonde hair but her face is turned to the chubby infant who looks like her, smiling so wide I can almost hear his laugh through the painting. There’s no mistaking the entrance of the house behind them or the steps leading to it.

My chest aches, my heart thumping wildly in my ribcage as if it wants to take flight. I tap my foot continuously wishing Alessio would distract me from looking at his wife and my brother, at the reminder of the man behind the monster.

“My wife Bea painted this,” he says with a wistful smile and offers me a glass of wine. I raise an eyebrow at him. “From our vineyard. It’s a 2020 harvest, one of our best.”

My father sits down and watches me intently. So intently I feel like bursting with all my rage.

But I won’t be the first to break. I wait. And wait some more.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here after all this time?” he finally asks.

“I’m here to take what’s mine.”

Alessio’s patronising smile is meant to break me and to take the measure of the type of man I am, I’m sure of it, but I’ve been in the business of smiles and white lies long enough now.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple. I’m your first-born. Therefore I’m your heir.”

“I thought you hadn’t been my son for decades,” he smiles triumphantly but his voice softens. “Tell me what changed?”

I clench my teeth so hard I might pop a tooth. “My motivations are none of your concerns. What matters is that I’m here.”

“See, figliolu, that’s not entirely true. If you want my empire, Julian’s empire, I need to know why. No one knows you here, no one would make deals with you, do business with you. You could crush my legacy in a matter of weeks, and as much as I’ve dreamed of you coming back to me, I’m not going to risk losing everything on your whims. So let’s try again. What changed?”

Dreams of me coming back to him? The man must be fucking delusional. I wonder if he thinks my mother was so weak she never revealed what he did to her. I’d never willingly come back to him and let him use me as a pawn of his criminal games of power and money.

He’s trying to goad me, see how far he can manipulate me.

I conjure up an image of Lana the first night we were together, then the image of her and Julian side by side on their ridiculous engagement picture. It centres me and reminds me of my purpose.

“Luc has named me Heir to the Pierce empire, though small it is at the moment. That’s what changed. I have more avenues to expand the Bartoli empire.”

His calm facade cracks, heat painting a crimson path from his neck to his cheeks. “Your uncle is a piece of trash and good for nothing. You think I don’t know his line of business? Why would I want to associate my name to his?”

“You already did when you married my mother and had me. I’m heir to both. Through me, London can be yours.”

He looks at me with concern and shakes his head like he knows something I don't. It enrages me. I want to part open his brain to know all his secrets. I will, in time.

He gets up and paces in front of me.

I have him. His body language is transparent. I’m not sure he realises it or he just thinks he’s safe with me because I haven’t grown up in the mafia. It doesn’t matter. He’s considering my offer.

A city like London can bring in an enormous amount of cash. It’s a market they don’t know like I do. I may have never touched drugs in my life but I know many who did, both within my company and others like mine.

Our eyes clash but I give nothing away. I stay silent, my face stone-cold, until I remember what he said earlier. That he dreamt of me coming back. I need to give him one more reason to take me up on my offer, and I need to pull at his heart strings if I can hope to get what I want and to have it formalised tonight.

If I want to be better than him, I can’t rely only on power and money as he would. It won’t get me what I want, but a half truth will. If he thinks he’s the one giving me what I desire and getting an advantage in return, I’ll finally get my revenge. Using her name feels like I’m descending to the last remnants of anything good left inside me but I don’t care.

“Julian can’t marry Alana Moretti,” I sigh.

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