“That’s an odd thing to say,” I tell him.
“Maybe it’s how everyone who was around Raul looked, right? Scared and afraid.”
I don’t know what this devil suspects or how he’d pieced the truth together, but it’s clear he knows something is up with me.
According to what José said, unless Ivan has proof, he wouldn’t be able to figure out I’m not Adriana.
But he knows something is not right with me.
I just can’t establish what he might know, or suspect. All he seems to have so far is the strong resemblance to my mother, which will give me away because that’s a striking element that could pick me apart.
“That’s enough,” Mikhail’s rough voice cuts in, just like it did that night and I’m grateful to hear him.
Ivan and I turn to see him marching over to us. His hair looks windswept, and he’s slightly out of breath, like he’s been running.
“Why are you talking to my wife?” he demands, glaring at Ivan.
“Chill out, brother, I dropped off some stuff Father wanted you to have.”
“Yes, Sophia told me. My phone was off when Father called, so I didn’t get the message. That doesn’t answer my question of why you’re speaking to my wife.”
Ivan chuckles. “Unbelievable. Since when is it a crime to speak to someone?” He squares his shoulders when Mikhail walks closer, doing the same.
“What do you want,brother?”
I can tell now there’s bad blood between them and it doesn’t matter that they’re brothers. I’ve seen Mikhail when he’s angry. Back in Mexico, he looked like he was ready to bring forth the end of the world.
But this is different. There’s a different look in his eyes that’s just as murderous but fueled by wrath and madness.
“I was simply getting reacquainted,” Ivan explains nonchalantly. “The wedding was so rushed. You never even had a reception or anything for me to congratulate you. You could have at least made it look more normal and not like the business transaction it was. If only for the other guests who didn’t know the truth of why you married this poor girl.”
I already felt bad enough. The reminder of what I am makes me feel worse.
Just then, drizzles of rain trickle down from the sky. The heavens are ready to crack open and pour. A metaphor for the way I feel inside.
“You can leave now,” Mikhail tells him.
Ivan smirks and then walks away.
Mikhail’s fists ball at his sides. We both gaze on at Ivan until he’s on the terrace and back inside the house.
Mikhail turns back to me, and as our eyes lock, I note how drained he looks. He also smells like he’s been drinking. Not as badly as that night I went into the hall with the paintings, but enough for me to smell the whiskey on him.
Raul drank whiskey. So did Felipe. They always smelled like it.
“What did he say to you?” Mikhail demands, moving closer to me.
I take him in. I’m so focused on his eyes that I almost miss the dash of color on the collar of his shirt.
Because he’s always in black, the smear of red lipstick pops. It’s the only color I’ve seen on him. Another woman’s lipstick.
The hole in my heart grows wider, deeper, faster, and I shake my head at him.
I imagine him with someone else, touching her the way he would touch me, possessing her body the way he would mine and it makes me sick.
Bastard.
The message he got last night could have been from her. He was out all night, or away from me a good amount of time. Fuck, what am I saying?
