The words I said tasted bitter in my mouth, like poison I had forced myself to swallow. But I pushed them out anyway, staring at him with a defiance I barely felt. I wanted him to believe I was in control, that I knew exactly why I was here, even if deep down I knew I was lying to myself. My hands trembled slightly at my sides, hidden by the folds of my coat, and my stomach twisted so tightly it felt like I was holding back sickness.

Emiliano didn’t answer right away. He didn’t even move. He just stood there, glass of scotch still resting on the table beside...