“I’m helping with Stazione di Uzio.”

Uzio Station was a public-works project—part of the Milan-Bologna railway—for which Orsini controlled the contracts. I didn’t know it then, but Johnny had taken the place of Paolo’s brother-in-law as an unofficial go-between, working with contractors—people with their own interests, of course—whom he had gotten to know through his work in Naples. The brother-in-law had proved himself unreliable, and greedy. Meanwhile Johnny was good at that kind of thing, moving in back channels.

“And this is my sister,” my brother said. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Isabella reached out to touch my cheek. An affectionate gesture, almost, that reduced me to a child. I saw her beauty—the mole on her cheek, the sintered lips, the almond eyes.

“This is the little poet?”

She was mocking me—though not without sympathy, I thought. She had done plenty of silly ad work over the years.

“I have other aspirations.”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. All I’d really wanted when I left Texas was to get out. And maybe a chance to be someone else. Who that might be . . .

I cast my eyes toward Isabella.

“The British director, Mawk—he’s casting,” said Isabella.

“I know,” I said shyly. It came to me then—or maybe it had been on my mind all along—that Isabella might have some influence with him: that she saw something of herself in me, and that was the reason I had come here, why my brother had brought me to Orsini’s attention.

“But you can forget about Mawk.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re closer to the age he likes, but he’ll never cast you.”

She paused.

“You have the wrong accent.” The beat felt deliberate, like she’d contemplated the effect. “It’s an American series. And Americans like their Romans to sound like Brits.”

I felt the hot flush on my cheeks. I was embarrassed. I realized this was what she had intended. It was why Isabella had talked to me—so that she might dismiss me in just this way.

“Excuse me,” she said.

She went to Paolo, and I watched them mingle as a couple. I watched his hand brush over her, running down her body. A mindless gesture, I told myself. Even as he touched her, he glanced my way.

Isabella and Paolo looked quite graceful together, quite beautiful. I felt a stir of envy. I felt desperate, as if I’d just discovered, just that moment, what I’d always wanted, and in that same moment it had all slipped away. Paolo and Isabella were talking to the director now. I saw Isabella’s charm. Her hands were on her hips. Her head flashed back as she laughed. Her eyes were full of light.

6.