Page 37 of Isle of Pain

“Andrea made a portion without meat for me,” Giulia answers with a soft look to my brother, who preens under her attention. He’d do anything for her. He did, while I was in the hospital down for the count and unable to save her when I should have.

The shame of those events still haunts me. Knowing she suffered because I couldn’t protect her reminds me that I haven’t nearly paid the price of my mistakes. As it always does, slowly throughout dinner, ants start to crawl up my limbs. Focusing on the conversations around me gets more difficult but I try. For her.

“Can I hold Ember?” my mother asks Marie when it’s time for her nightly bottle. There’s apprehension in Marie’s green eyes but she swiftly looks my way and I give her an imperceptible nod. She places a fussy Ember in my mum’s arms and the picture does something to the organ in my chest. I don’t understand why it squeezes almost painfully but I take a mental picture, burning it inside my brain. My mother looks so happy with a tiny babyin her arms, like she’s found a new purpose. She’s the most resilient woman I know, but both Andrea and I left her house years ago and despite her position at the West Hill Hospital Board, she’s mentioned to me that days can get lonely.

Andrea and Giulia are adamant about not wanting children. I turn to watch Marie, her features soften as she idly talks to my mum about Ember and her first week in my house. Her shoulders are relaxed and the grey under her eyes is almost gone. She looks more at peace than she did when she landed. She isn’t smiling yet, but that’s okay. I can own all her smiles.

We move to the living room, Andrea and Giulia staying behind to clean up the kitchen.

“She’s such an easy babe,” my mother says conversationally. “Both Andrea and Nico were so fussy when they were her age. Do you think you’ll give her brothers or sisters?”

With the way Marie chokes on her diet coke, I understand it’s not something you should ask. Since Marie is a twenty—soon-to-be-twenty-one—year-old mother who met mine an hour ago, with pain, grief and trauma that could fill the entire city of West Hill, I get it.

“Mum,” I admonish, and she apologises before moving on to planning a shopping trip she can take Giulia, Marie and Ember on.

Now that she spoke the idea into existence, I picture Marie, round with child, and a little Ember playing on the patio of my house. The sun is setting as I approach Marie from behind, settling my hands on her belly and my chin on the crook of her neck. She smells like her usual lavender scent, but underneath is the distinct smell of my hypoallergenic detergent and my favourite lemon soap. She smells like mine. My fingers flex on her stomach, carryingmychild.

“So?” Marie asks and my eyes fly open.

Fuck, that vision felt so real. What did I miss? I’m never this reckless, my attention always on my surroundings. But the moment my mother talked about other children, my subconscious took over, showing me what I could have.

“So, what?” I ask, schooling my features to nonchalance.

“Do you think you can drive me to West Hill on Thursday? To meet with Giulia and your mother?” Marie asks, then places a gentle hand on mine that’s resting on the arm of the leather chair. “It will do me good to get out of the house.”

For the second time this evening, thoughts leave my mind as all my attention is stolen and drops to where the pad of her fingers touch the back of my hand. I drop my eyes to her hand and swallow hard, unknown emotions clogging my throat as I bask into her touch and attention.

In the corner of my eyes, I don’t miss the exchanged looks between my mother, Andrea and Giulia who are two seconds away from giggling like teenagers.

I look up and her dark green eyes ensnare mine. We could be alone in the room for how the world around us disappears, creating a safe bubble around her and I.

Marie moves to remove her hand, “sorry” leaving her lips and I want to banish that word from her vocabulary. So fast she doesn’t see me coming, I keep her hand on top of mine, pressing my second hand on top of hers and squeezing my fingers once.

Her lips part and her pupils widen, something dark and possessive swirling within the dark depths. It’s breathtaking.

“It’s settled, then,” Giulia breaks the silence and our bubble pops, but she doesn’t remove her hand and I keep mine exactly where it is, conscious not to move an inch. “Nico, before you go, Andrea and I would like to talk to you.” Her voice drops as though there’s a secret to share. They want to talk about the next step in the war against Misha Petrov. My brother is allied with Aleksei Dobrev, the Pakhan of the London Bratva, who’sdecided to go rogue and take our side instead of supporting Misha’s endeavour and dark trade. He must have intel on the whereabouts of our enemies.

In the corner of my eyes, Marie deflates and seems to curl up in the corner of the couch, used to being dismissed when her family wants to talk shop.

“That’s my cue to leave,” my mother says before embracing everyone and calling her chauffeur to take her home.

When it’s just the four of us, Ember sleeping in a small basket Giulia made for her in front of the fire, Giulia motions for me and Andrea to follow into Andrea’s study at the end of a dark corridor. Marie’s downcast eyes break my heart, the way she nibbles on her nails and eye the whiskey bottle on the vintage cart making me want to kill her entire family for making her feel this way.

I walk to her and take her hand in mine. Like every time I’ve touched her, energy sparks between us, my body a live-wire of electricity that only she can turn into power. “Come on,” I tell her. “Let’s hear what they know.”

“I’m not wanted there, trust me.”

“Do you want to be there?”

She rolls her lips into her mouth and nods, no hesitation whatsoever. “Then, take your rightful place, Miss Marie,” I say with a lift of my lips.

Her eyes brighten, shining with what I can only interpret as excitement. I caress her wrist with my thumb and her blood thrums under the digit.

We walk the short distance between the living room and the study hand in hand, leaving the door open in case Ember wakes up. Andrea sits like a king on his throne behind his mahogany desk, Giulia standing tall and proud at his back. Keeping my fingers on Marie’s hand, I move to stand behind her. Ready to have her back. Guarding her like a dog.

“Are you sure you want to be here,ciuciarella?” Giulia asks Marie who flinches before righting her shoulders back.

“I have a right to know what will impact my future and the future of my daughter.” Her voice rings like steel in the lavish space and I suppress a groan. I give her a light squeeze, showing her my support in whatever way I can. People in her family needs to stop telling her what the fuck to do. Can’t they see they’re snuffing her light every time they push her away?

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