Page 35 of Mafia Billionaire's Surprise Baby
“Myself.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It’s not, Sal. It’s realistic.”
It still sounds lonely. Caterina, Dino, Marco, and I might have our issues, but we’ll always be there for each other.
Dino’s recent actions, however, pop into my mind.
He sold Caterina and Luna out.
I sigh. “Fine. I agree with you. They were talking about Marco.”
“You think Dino has kids somewhere?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” I say sadly. The fact that my older brother, who is only ten months ahead of me, would have a secret that big makes me feel more than a little hurt.
But I guess it’s not like I told him anything about Gia. Or any of the other secrets I’ve kept for years.
My stomach twists uncomfortably.
I’m not sure what to feel.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Tonight, we go see if we can scrape anything out of the low lives of this city to help us find a lead.”
There’s a lot to find out. The stuff with Marco is one thing. The fact that someone tried to kill Gia and me, and successfully killed the Russians?
That’s also a lot.
“We’re going to need a disguise,” I grunt.
Gia beams. “Well. I think we did pretty good back in Prague. Speaking of, how’s your Dutch?”
Excellent.
“Fine.”
“Good. You’ll do the talking then. I’m passable, but I sound like an American trying to speak Dutch.”
I snort. “Your Russian is flawless.”
“As it should be. I studied it for ten years.”
My eyebrows go up. “Ten years?”
“Yep. That and ballet. I was convinced that the only way I could separate myself from Elio in my dad’s eyes was to be a ballerina. And the Russian ballet? It’s the best in the world.” Gia smirks.
Trust Gia to think that she, an Italian girl who grew up partly in the US and partly in Italy, could join the Russian ballet.
“That’s impressive.”
“So is your ability to just… speak other languages,” Gia says.
I can tell she’s needling again. “Fine. How about this? I tell you how many languages I speak, and you leave me alone about my real estate money.”
“Deal,” Gia announces way too quickly.
She’s definitely going to still ask me. Still, I made a bargain. “I’m fluent in Italian, French, Czech, German, and Spanish. I can get by in Russian. I can understand Japanese, but I can’t say shit, and I can order food in Chinatown, or in Beijing. My Farsi is terrible, and I would do well to never speak Portuguese in my life. Oh—and Latin,” I add, remembering the language that my mother painstakingly had me learn.