Page 40 of Isle of Beauty

Iwant to keep all my attention on Lana, but it’s hard to stay focused when my mammona is all over me, offering me more food than I’ve eaten in a single entire day in just a span of minutes.

When I saw her at the stove and she ran to embrace me, tears streaming down her face, every single memory I have of her resurfaced. She’s another soul I vow myself to protect when I’ll destroy the Bartoli empire.

“Mammona, I cannot eat one more bite.”

“Nonsense, figliulinu, I made ambrucciata. They’re Lana’s favourite.” She adds with a smile that warms my chest and settles my nerves.

“I thought tiramisu was her favourite,” I say before I can catch myself. Our eyes connect over the length of the table and the green of her irises glows with something I can’t decipher. That look cuts me open and I tear my gaze away to avoid the bile creeping up the back of my throat.

My grandmother clicks her tongue in disappointment before shooting a glare to my fiancée whose cheeks bloom with crimson embarrassment. “I don’t make Italian desserts on Fridays.”

I accept the ambrucciata and let the flavours dissolve on my tongue. I’ve rarely been the recipient of such devotion and undivided attention. I love my mother but she was never the kind to set all her focus on me. I learned to live without it. In the hands of my grandmother, I soften.

My eyes drag to Lana again. She’s so close and yet so far away. The look of absolute vitriol she gave me when she signed the contract tells me she isn’t convinced by our impending nuptials. But now, she looks absent, eyes unfocused, as if lost in thoughts. Or memories.

I narrow my eyes in concern.

When I met her three years ago, she was incandescent, a bright vivid light, arrogant with youth and time. We had this instant connection yet I felt she held back from telling me more about herself and now I know why. Her family sold her to a man twenty years her senior who never loved her or cared for her. All for power and greed.

She might be free of him, but I wonder at what cost. Looking at her now, tormented and bitter, caring possessiveness takes hold of me. I can’t stand to see her in pain. She’s mine to protect and care for. I might have come here with the intention of making her regret ever leaving me after I opened up to her, but seeing her lost in her mind with lonely memories to keep her company makes me want to shield her.

Stupid heart.

Mammona asks her if she’s sick and she excuses herself and leaves, averting my eyes again.

I need her to look at me. I need her to see me. I just need her.

I stand up and follow her into the corridor.

SEVENTEEN

LANA

ACTUALLY, EDGING IS THE WORST

My sisters are all over my new fiancé.

“It’s so sad you could never come to Kalliste before.”

“You and Lana make such a beautiful couple.”

“You’re very strong, and you eat a lot. You know, that’s a sign you respect your host in our culture,” Lisa says.

“I know, my mother always says the same. She taught me everything.” He smiles easily at her and she beams with joy before giggling and returning to her meal.

I want to smack their little heads with my spoon. You don’t fawn over a stranger, dammit. You grill him with questions until his tells show and you catch him red-handed betraying you. Then, the fun begins.

I can only blame myself for always protecting them from the reality of our world.

Thank God I’m at the end of the table. It gives me the distance I need between us. From here, I can watch him, maybe it’ll give me a clue on what he wants, what he’s really doing here, not this sham he pretends he wants.

I’ll give it to him, Pierce played the loophole of our laws very well, especially for someone who’s not been raised in our world.

As the second son, Julian is less of a target now but that doesn’t mean he’s completely safe. And I would do anything to protect him.

Once again, my gaze travels to him. Mammonna Bartoli is cooing and he’s genuinely smiling at her. Dimples line each side of his perfect kissable mouth, his lips lightly tinted with red wine. Maybe he thought she was dead and never had a chance to say goodbye. Maybe it’s the only person he cares about around this table.

That thought softens the very heart I’m trying my best to harden against him. But then he looks at me with hate in his deep brown eyes and suddenly, I wish I could tell him I bear the scars of the past three years more than he does.

---