Then I hear a low murmur from the main room that stops me dead. The voice pierces the ringing in my ear like a splash of cold water. My cold hand pauses on the iron, and my breathing slows a little, and I’m finally able to catch up to my heart’s wild beating.
“Sì, la tengo qui,”Julian murmurs, and I freeze.
I never knew he spoke Italian.
His tone is stripped of his typical warmth as he tells the person on the phone tokeep it there.
Then there’s a pause. I can hear the faint, angry buzz of a man’s voice on the other end.
“Non capisci?” Julian hisses.Don’t you understand?Julian’s tone turns harsher.
He proceeds to tell the man that Damiano already knows everything—that he found out that I’m aCastiglione. He says Damiano has already sent his men to scour every town in Sicily. That was all my basic grasp of the Italian language could understand.
I pull back, my heart sinking.
Castiglione?
“Lei è mia”, Julian snaps.She is mine.
My pulse pounds in my ears.
He continues to argue with the person on the other line, his voice dropping to a low growl, clearly fuming.
“I didn’t spend the last year following her only to lose her to a Cotrini.”He says, his boots scruffing the tiles outside as he paces the room.
My hands start shaking with anger and confusion.
Before I knew what I was doing, I wrench the door open and see Julian standing by the table, the phone pressed to his ear.
When the door hinges creak, he turns to me. The anger in his face vanishes as soon as he sees me. He says something quick into the phone and shoves it into his pocket.
“Did I wake you?” he asks, his voice sliding effortlessly into his usual warmth.
“Who were you talking to?” I ask, my voice trembling.
His eyes turn cold, and his lips form into a tight line. I take a few steps until I’m in front of him, my face rigid with anger. Still heaving from the halted panic attack.
“¿Y por qué hablas italiano?Who was that, Julian?”
He lets out a slow breath. The colors in his face fade as he realizes I heard everything.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he whispers. “I never wanted to tell you like this. I wanted us to be safe in Mexico first.” His right hand reaches for my face, but I dodge.
“Tell me what?”
He inhales sharply, rubbing his jaw.
“Tell me what, Julian?!” I yell.
“That man on the phone, Flavio. He’s your cousin.”
Cousin? What the fuck is he saying?
“I don’t have cousins, Julian,” I say matter-of-factly as bile rises in my throat.
His eyelids snap shut, a brief, tight tremor in his jaw before he tilts his head back. He stares at the ceiling as if the silence up there is the only thing keeping him from losing control.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this. But, you aren’t who you think you are.”
