Page 17 of Isle of Pain

She moves to walk away. I can’t let her do that. Before I can compute what I’m doing, I stop her with a hand on her wrist. The contact makes my skin prickle with awareness and warmth but it’s short-lived. She slaps my fingers away sharply. “Did I give you permission to touch me?” she scolds. Years of training have me hold the excitement coursing through my veins like a shot of whiskey, but I can’t fight the shiver that runs down my spine. She has a fierce and dominant side. I want nothing more than to see more of it. Surrender at her feet, give her the control she must crave.

“No, Miss Marie,” I say, the words like a prayer on my tongue. The monicker tastes like the sweetest fruit. “I won’t do it again.”

She nods and doesn’t move, once again looking up at me from her standing position above my sitting one. That’s exactly where I always want to be when in her presence.

“I read once that smokers still have the urge to use their fingers as they did when they brought the cigarettes to their mouth. And that familiar gesture is hard to beat,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. It makes the sun move across her hair to show the deep blue hue of her black strands. “Why are you telling me this?

“In case you have the urge to lift a glass to your lips. Call me, then.”

Ever since I saw her, I hacked into her phone and put my number there. I knew there would be a time when she’d need it. No one but Lisa sees her. And Lisa is about to see only her child.

“I don’t know you, Nico.”

I shrug. “You will.”

“I don’t have your number,” she counters.

“You do.”

“How—” She doesn’t even finish her sentence, just scoffs and shakes her head as understanding dawns on her. My brother Andrea is the best hacker in Europe, and Marie’s own brother-in-law is the Head of Security of the Moretti Empire. We can achieve a lot.

“I’ll think about it,” she says then she leaves. Before she passes the threshold, she turns. Her sadness is breathtaking. Even half drunk, Marie Moretti is the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. “Thank you, Nico. It means a lot.”

How offering to be an ear to her pain can mean a lot seems odd to me. She has three sisters, a family house constantly full of life. Yet, she must be the most lonely person to rely on a stranger for comfort. I won’t be a stranger for long.

9

MARIE

LOSS

We’re walking along the hill overlooking the Sea on a warm July morning when Lisa doubles over and cries out. She places a hand on her lower belly and I know I’m about to meet my niece. Adrenaline surges through my system and keeps me from throwing up with anxiety.

“Fuck. We need to get you to the hospital,” I tell her as I slide under her arm to support her.

“She’s not supposed to come for another two weeks, Mimi.” Lisa cries out again, another contraction hitting her with force. “She’s supposed to be a Leo, not a Cancer.”

“Lili, I swear to God, no one cares about her star sign. Only that she’s healthy, and you too.”

I flag our protection detail so he can help me carry Lisa to the car. I text the family group chat before refocusing on Lisa who loses her waters on the leather back seat of her new Mercedes. Her forehead is damp with sweat and she breathes heavily. I don’t know what to do but I watched enough videos to know that we need to regulate her breathing.

“Follow my lead, Lili. In through the nose, slowly.” She imitates me. “And out through the mouth. You’re doing great. Keep going. How long before we reach the hospital?” I ask our driver.

“ETA in six minutes, Miss Moretti.”

My heart beats so fast in my chest I could faint, but all that matters is my sister and my niece. I can’t think about the bad feeling I have. I can’t.

“Hold on, Lili. We’re almost there.”

Right then, another contraction racks her body and her face contorts with pain, another cry torn from her throat. “Faster!” I yell, panicked and scared.

When we reach the hospital, our driver carries Lisa into the emergency section. Nurses reach us and with calm, practiced movements, set Lisa on a wheelchair before taking her away. I stomp behind them. “I’m coming with her.”

An older nurse with grey hair and a face that says ‘don’t fuck with me’ looks me up and down before giving her orders. “Take the patient to the waiting room. You,” she addresses me. “I need your name, the name of the patient and for you to calm down.”

I swallow and nod as we walk behind my sister who’s obviously in pain. The urge to take her hand and comfort her sings in my blood. But right now, she needs me to keep my head on straight. “Marie Moretti. This is my sister, Lisa Moretti. She’s thirty-eight weeks pregnant and a patient of Dr Olmeto. Her first contraction started about twelve minutes ago.”

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