I jiggled the doorknob that connected our rooms again, but they still had me locked out. Fortunately, the hallway door leading into the Rococo suite was unlocked. But when I stepped inside, the room was empty. Desirae and Artemisia were both gone.

I tried not to let my mind go nuts, thinking about them scheming together behind my back. Besides, how could they have known Chaya was there at the villa to kill Georgiy that night? Not everyone was conspiring against me, I knew it was just my paranoia. But Lucia was right about something, at least one of them wasn't telling me the truth.

I hurried and slapped some makeup on that Artemisia had left out and then scrunched my wet hair with the curl cream. From inside our wardrobe, I picked out an emerald green dress that ruched up the thighs so I could show my legs off in those gold heels. It almost fit too perfect. The plunging neckline delicately draped down over my boobs, barely covering my nips, but considering the occasion for tonight, they were the least of my concerns.

What I was concerned with was finding Desirae. If I could get her back upstairs and into Lucia’s room, I could show her the direction of the blood spatter on the painting which would prove I didn’t kill Georgiy. And she likely knew someone at Interpol who could remove the red notice. Whatever she and Artemisia were or weren’t doing at the villa that night wouldn’t matter. We could then all go our own separate ways.

From the perfume collection in the bathroom, I found one with warm spices and notes of espresso. I softly sprayed my wrists and my neck before making my way downstairs.

Throughout the grand dining room, beautiful frescoes adorned the walls and ornate gold moldings trimmed the ceilings where three brass chandeliers dimly lit the space. Burgundy roses and draping eucalyptus towered in golden eiffel vases down the center of the table that stretched from end to end of the room. Anytime a flower arrangement ever caught my eye, I always thought of Miles. I wished they were still alive to tell me what an idiot I was for getting myself into this mess. And maybe if they were, I wouldn’t have found myself in this situation to begin with.

Charlene stood just inside the main doorway with her tablet, directing women to one side of the table or the other. I waited until two others walked up to her before sneaking through while her head was dipped to the screen. In the far corner, I spotted Artemisia near the head and hurried towards her.

Just beyond the table in a dark corridor, two women had decided they weren't waiting until after dinner to get the party started. Their hands groped hungrily for one another, sliding up under their dresses. Quickly, I slipped into the chair next to Artemisia.

“That is not your seat,” she tried to tell me.

“You could have warned me this was a pompous play party for bored wives of one-percenters.”

Her slender shoulders raised with a shrug as she stabbed into a shell of escargot with her fork and popped the snail into her mouth. “I told you we should have went to Tunisia.”

“I’m just saying, I would have shaved my legs if I had known.”

Her eyes softened as she raised the shell to her lips to sip the butter. Beneath the table, the pointed toe of her shoe slid under the hem of my dress. My leg prickled with goosebumps as her smooth skin found mine.

“They feel fine to me.” She raised her hand to my hair and tucked a curl away from my face. “You left your hair curly. I have missed it.”

I raked a hand through the ridiculous volume and pushed it off to the side. “I didn’t have much of a choice if I wanted to make it to dinner on time. You kinda locked me out of the suite.”

She looked back down at the plate of escargot and bread. “You were busy with Lucia.”

Artemisia's jealousy made her a dangerous woman so I knew to tread lightly. But she almost seemed more hurt than spiteful. It was odd for her.

“You didn’t have to forgive my debt, Artie. I could have gotten you the money. In fact, I will—”

“Where? From her?” her voice raised, drawing eyes from farther down the table. “And let her buy you? No. I do not care about the money. Not if it costs me—” Her hand flicked with a sharp wave. “What does she want with you?”

“Something about gaining access to people.” I leaned closer to Artemisia and lowered my voice. “She thinks I killed Georgiy. Convinced, actually.”

Artemisia was silent, just aimlessly dabbing her bread in the garlic butter from the snails, but not raising it to her mouth. I should have taken the opportunity to ask her right then where she was that night, but more women began to fill the table around us. I had never seen so many beautiful people in one place together. And Lucia had said to expect one hundred fifty for the party. As much as I wanted to lay low for the night, temptation was tugging at me.

“Anyways, I have proof that I didn’t. I need to talk to Desirae and have her get this red notice lifted so we can head back to Sicily in the morning.” I glanced up the table and then over to a gathering of women who were socializing and hadn’t sat down yet. “Where is she?”

Still not looking up, Artemisia stabbed another piece of escargot. “She is exploring.”

“So was that what she was doing the other night at the—”

Before I could finish my question, Desirae walked past Charlene through the doorway at the other end of the room. Shimmering sequins draped off her shoulders like gold lace, refracting the low light of the chandeliers. The bodice started as solid sequins, then gradually became more sheer as the skirt flared from her waist where just strands of gold lined the tulle down her dark legs.

Every step towards the table made her shimmer. Her locs were pinned to the top of her head in a bun, showing off her high cheekbones and the sharp line of her jaw. I shot to my feet automatically as she spotted me across the room.

Artemisia clasped my arm. “Stay, you do not have to…” And then her grip loosened. “Oh.”

I tore my eyes away to glance down at her and realized maybe a second too late that she was watching me watch Desirae. Feeling foolish, I went to sit back down, but Artemisia stood up next to me.

“You really like her?” she whispered into my hair.

I quickly turned to her, ready to deny. “No, Artie, it's not—”

“I know that look, amuri.” Artemisia's blue eyes flicked between mine and Desirae as she neared the table. “I didn’t notice it before, but I see it now. You look at me the same.”

“You're both very beautiful women.”

“All these women are beautiful, Kirby. But you have not noticed them.”

“Oh trust me,” I mumbled, “I've noticed.”

“Not the same, no?”

I tried to avoid her inquisitive stare, glancing past her towards Desirae. She was right, but I didn't know what to say. I didn't know which Artemisia to expect tonight.

Desirae came right over to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek like she hadn’t just seen me an hour ago. And like she hadn’t just been pissed at me an hour ago. It took me by surprise, but then the faint sweet florals of gin lingered with her lips. She must have found the bar during her exploring. Beneath her long lashes, her dark heavy eyes hovered over me. “You cleaned up nice, Kirby.”

“It uh, took a lot of effort. Especially getting the blood out from under my nails. But uh, yeah all clean.” I wiggled my fingers her way. “You look amazing, Des. That gown really does suit you.”

“It actually reminded me of the one you wore to Artemisia’s retrospective when we met. Minus the wine and blood stains of course.”

“Well, it's still early,” I joked.

“So it is.” Her eyes flitted past me to the two women fucking in the dark corner. “Who knows where the night will lead.”

“Whose blood was it?” Artemisia asked, curiously. I could still feel her watching us both.

“Mostly your cousin’s,” Desirae answered, turning to her to kiss her cheek. But Artemisia turned at the same time and their lips met instead.

And I seemed to be the only one surprised by the peck.

As they pulled away, Artemisia’s blue eyes sought mine. “Did Calo hit on you or something?”

“Huh? Oh, uh no, your father actually put the hit on me. Calo was just following through.” I decided to sit back down, noticing Atia Russo’s namecard on the plate in front of me. Artemisia took her own seat and Desirae found hers on the other side of her. Many of the other women were now claiming their spots at the table, however, Lucia still hadn’t come down yet. But as soon as she did, I would get Desirae upstairs to show her the painting.

I leaned past Artemisia to get her attention. “Des, can I talk to y—”

Charlene appeared out of nowhere above me with her tablet. “You forgot to check-in with me, Kirby dear. Your seat is actually on the other side, next to Lucia at the head.”

“Oh, right. My bad.” I pressed my lips into the best fake smile I could muster. “My friends are sitting here though so I figured it wouldn't be a big deal if I switched—”

“We have carefully arranged the seating to ensure the best dining experience, offering our members an opportunity to connect to other women outside their network.”

This chick was worse than the Jesus counselors at the Bible Camp I was forced to go to after my mom accepted charity from the church. I picked up Atia’s namecard and held it out to her. “Just swap Atia with me and she can uh, connect next to Lu. She wanted you to move Atia’s seat anyway.”

Charlene snatched the card from my fingers and set it back down on the plate in front of me. “Lucia will be down any second now. She will not be pleased to have the seating rearranged on whim.”

“I uh, think Lu will be fine.”

Charlene’s fingers wrapped around my arm, digging into my skin. “I insist, darling.”

My shoulder burned with pain as she yanked me out of the chair and dragged me to the other side of the table before storming back to the front.

Across from me and just a seat down, Desirae was trying not to laugh. Artemisia for once didn't seem as amused.

“What a cunt,” I muttered, rubbing my shoulder.

“Chiara?”

I recognized the velvety French accent before I even looked up from my shoulder. Standing next to me was the first woman I had met while I was hiding out near Palermo. She had been visiting from Marseille and took her husband’s yacht down the coast to the island for what was supposed to be a week, but lasted nearly three with me.

Lisette’s hair bounced in blonde waves down over her shoulders as she wrapped her arms around me. My fingers found the bare skin of her lower back where her black dress was cut out. Over her shoulder, I caught Artemisia’s stare.

“I never thought I would see you again.” Lisette squeezed me tighter into another hug. “And here, of all places.”