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"Neither do I, to be honest," Axel admits.
"Maybe he intuitively knew about your existence?" I peer through the gloom at the canvas, "Aren’t twins and triplets supposed to sense each other and stuff? Maybe he had a feeling about you. After all, he was an artist, and aren’t artists supposed to be more in tune with themselves and the world? So maybe, he kind of guessed about your existence?"
"Maybe he was just doodling or something," Axel blows out a breath, "though that’s not exactly what I would call a doodle." He laughs in a self-deprecating tone, "That likeness is scary; it’s like looking into a mirror. And the way he’s drawn himself and Christian, I can almost see the three of us standing together in real life. He was a talented artist."
"You sound surprised." I try to sit up, but he doesn’t release me.
"I am," he admits. "I knew he was an artist, but that he was this good?" He shakes his head.
"He never bragged about his art. It was a way of life for him and he wasn’t temperamental or anything; he was always so happy, so full of life. Sometimes though, I thought I caught a glimpse of the conflict inside him."
"Conflict?" Axel pauses, "You think he was unhappy deep inside?"
"He was confused about his sexuality. Or rather, he knew he was bisexual, but it wasn’t something he was open about. I mean, it’s not easy when you are born into an orthodox Catholic family, and a Mafia one at that, to come out and proclaim what you are without some kind of backlash."
"You think the Sovranos wouldn’t have accepted him?"
"The brothers would have supported him, but Nonna? Not likely that she would have encouraged him to explore his sexuality." I laugh humorlessly.
"Not like he needed their permission," he drags his fingers through my hair. "He could have left home. He could have opted to find out more about himself and forged his own path."
"It’s not easy when you have the pull of family behind you. And it’s not like the brothers would have let him simply disappear. Wherever he went, they would have kept tabs on him."
"Oh?" He stills, "You think they’d have kept eyes on him, regardless of where he was."
"One-hundred percent." I turn to him, "Once you are a part of the Sovranos, they are not going to just let you leave, you know. They’ll make sure they know where you are at all times."
"So they can control you?"
"So they can protect you. Thefamigliahas a lot of enemies and you can’t fight them alone."
"I don’t need their help." His jaw hardens, "I have been taking care of myself so far, and I plan to do so for the foreseeable future."
"I know, but don’t underestimate their enemies. You are now a Sovrano, and that itself, will have drawn the attention of those who want to get even with them."
"You’re worried about me?"
"I know you can take care of yourself," I murmur, "but after what happened to Xander—"
"Goddammit, I am not Xander." He pushes me off his lap so suddenly, I hit the ground.
He rises to his feet and walks past me to the painting. He stares at it for a few seconds, then grips his hair and tugs on it. "Fuck," he says in a low voice, "fuck, fuck, fuck, why does this have to be so complicated?"
"What’s complicated?" I rise to my feet. "You are not making any sense, Axel. One second, I am sure you feel something for me. The next second, I am sure that you hate me."
"I hate myself." He turns on me, "I hate myself for being attracted to you."
He glances about the space, as if searching for something.
"What is it?" I swallow. "What are you looking for?"
"I fucking hate that I’ve allowed myself to be trapped in this situation."
"Trapped? Situation?" I frown, "What are you talking about?"
He sweeps his eyes across the room again, then his gaze lights up. He stomps over to a corner of the room where there is a pile of easels stored against the wall. Next to it is a bunch of brushes placed in a brush holder. He pushes it aside and the brushes spill onto the floor. He kicks a blank canvas aside, then throws another over his shoulder. It falls to the ground with a thud. I jump. What the hell is he doing? What the hell is he looking for?
He grabs a plastic bottle containing a transparent liquid and rises to his feet. He walks toward the giant fireplace, then pauses in the stone area in front of the fireplace before he turns to face me.
