Hot steam fogged the bathroom mirror as I stepped out of the shower. I had half expected Lucia to join me—and I had nearly invited her just out of jealous spite. But both Artemisia's and Desirae's warnings echoed in the back of my mind. I didn't know what I was getting into. I needed to be careful around Lucia. But I also needed answers.

And it would be best to keep sex as a future bargaining tool anyway.

I grabbed a fresh towel off the rack and wrapped it around my body. For the first time, I got a good look at the gunshot wound, all clean and stitched up. At least Chaya had done a good job.

But I could kill her for throwing me into this mess.

As I entered the bedroom, Lucia closed the door to her wardrobe, still just in her sheer kimono. I made less of an effort to avert my eyes this time. A cunning smile played on her lips. She tossed a coil of jute rope onto the bed and leaned against the wooden footboard.

"Better?"

I nodded. "Much. Thank you."

"That looks quite painful, what are you taking for it?"

"Hmm? Oh..." I glanced down to my shoulder. "It stings something awful, but I've kinda blocked it out at this point. There have been more uh, pressing matters at hand."

"Indeed. And speaking of hands, what did you do with my husband's thumb?"

I used my own to point back towards our door. "It's sitting on the table beneath the bouquet of peonies."

"Lovely. So were you lying in wait at the villa to kill him just for the money or was it an order from—"

"Woah, hold up. One: I did not kill your husband. Do I look like someone who could behead a two hundred-fifty pound Bratva man?"

Her green eyes shifted past me to the Caravaggio painting of Judith beheading Holofernes over the bed. "I'm sure the General thought the same of Judith."

"Okay, fair point. But she seduced him in order to gain access to him. I—"

Shit.

I had woken up naked next to Georgiy. But she didn't know that. At least, I hoped she didn't.

"Lu, I was drugged. I have no idea what happened. You'll have to talk to your friend Chaya about that one."

Her sharp brows pricked when I mentioned Chaya, but she quickly turned to open the drawer of her nightstand. "And two?"

"Two?"

Long waves of dark hair draped down over her bare shoulder where the kimono had started to slip away. "Your second point, love."

"Oh, two: I just wanted my own money back. Well, it's not technically mine. I need to pay Artie back."

She laughed with her back to me. "You stole from the Cassini family? And you're alive to tell me?"

"I invested it. At least some of it. In your husband's sham gallery."

"Oh, it was hardly a sham, but they were moving more than just art of course." The drawer closed and she turned back around with her hand clasped shut. A small red ribbon hung from her palm. "How much do you owe Artemisia?"

"$750 thousand."

"Consider it paid."

She had barely blinked. Barely taken a second to think. That was more than double what I had invested in Georgiy's gallery.

"What?" I asked, dumbfoundedly.

"I am reinvesting in you, Kirby."

"Ohh, no." I shook my head. "No way. I'll never be able to pay off that debt to you by just stealing art. You'll own my ass the rest of my life. And likely my first born."

"I'm not a big fan of children."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"I'm not asking you to steal art, Kirby, at least not solely. But you have a very unique skill of gaining access to people. You're very approachable."

"So what, you want me to spy or something for you? Who do you need access to?"

It was what Desirae had wanted from me. To be some kind of CIA asset for her. I didn't like the prospect of either offer. And something told me they were both on complete opposite ends of each other.

Lucia walked back over to me. "We can talk more after dinner. I'd like to see how you network with the other women here. We're expecting a great turn out, one hundred fifty-some members for tonight's party. I have a feeling you'll get on with quite a few."

"Lu, I hate to disappoint you, but I'm really not a people person. I don't even have like, actual friends."

"Precisely." She opened her hand and held out a skeleton key tied with a red ribbon. "This is the key to my room here. Clearly, you don't need it. But it will also grant you access to all the properties we own in Europe and Asia. You're free to do with it as you please. Just a perk of being a top member here at the club."

"And how exactly did I gain top member status?"

"Bit daft, aren't you? But I suppose that's part of the charm." She dangled the key in front of me. "You saved my life, Kirby. Georgiy would've killed me, and likely both of us. I'm only trying to repay the favor."

She was probably right about that. I knew my days were numbered with Georgiy and the Bratva. I reached out to take the key, but stopped myself. As much as a network of intercontinental safehouses would come in handy right now, I didn't want her thinking I was taking her up on this shady reinvestment offer.

"I appreciate the accolades, but I didn't kill Georgiy. Yeah, I cut off his thumb afterwards to hopefully take my cut of the money back. But I certainly didn't cut off his head Judith-style. So I'm good. We're both good, actually. No favors."

Firmly, she clasped my wrist and tied the ribbon around it. "You can think about it. Now about this shoulder..." Her firm touch turned sensual as her hand slid up my arm. Tracing along the edge of my towel where it wrapped my chest, her fingers tugged it down just enough to show the extent of the bruising that spread out from the wound. "We have some of the best doctors in the world coming tonight. I'm sure one of them will gladly write you a script for some pain killers."

She leaned in close enough that I could feel her body heat, but I didn't back away. "Honestly, when my mother's douchebag boyfriend broke my arm in highschool, the pain was much worse. Plus, we didn't have insurance so the cheap cast the clinic used didn't let the bone heal right." I held my left arm up between us so she could see it wasn't quite straight. The key dangled from my wrist. "I had to learn how to use my right hand for like half of freshman year. Drawing helped though."

"You're a lefty then?"

"I am."

I am.

My eyes shot up towards the painting behind Lucia to reexamine the blood spray. It went from left to right.

The killer was right-handed.

"Lu, how did that Caravaggio end up here?"

Her soft laugh sent a chill over me.

Just as I opened my mouth to exonerate myself, the connecting door to our rooms opened behind me.

"Ma soccu sta facennu?" Artemisia scoffed. I could feel her eyes searing into the back of my head. "But I do not know why I am surprised."

"You look gorgeous, love," Lucia said to her, looking past me. "Was that your first choice?"

I turned around to see Artemisia in the doorway, arms crossed against the blood-red corset bodice of her dress that faded to black. Long sheer strips of tulle draped from her waist and parted at her hip to show the full length of her leg. She looked sinfully stunning.

I wrapped the towel under my arm a little tighter where Lucia had pulled it away. "Wow, Artie, you—"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

Lucia slipped away from me and took a few steps closer to Artemisia. "Kirby was just asking how I came about this Caravaggio. Care to enlighten her?"

"Obviously, it is not Caravaggio."

"I dunno if it's obvious, Artie," I mumbled under my breath. "But I thought maybe it was one of the guys who worked alongside him. Finson or Vinck or someone. Whoever did it clearly knew—"

Artemisia sighed loudly, practically looking through me at the painting to avoid my eyes. "What is the light showing us, Kirby?"

I turned around to look at it with her. The lightest part of the composition drew your attention straight to Judith and her blue eyes. She was staring directly at the viewer. "Judith."

"Yes. And look at her. She looks like she is slicing a slab of butter instead of beheading the Assyrian General, no? She is bored."

"I think she looks stoic," I objected. "That calmness in her face while the maid is urging her to hurry the fuck up. Judith wants to take her time. She wants Holofernes to suffer. And he is." I stole a glance towards Artemisia where I saw her lips twitch with a hint of a smile. "Look at the strain in his body."

The tension in her own seemed to soften. Did I actually say something right? Her shoulders lifted with a shrug. "Mah, could be better."

Lucia inched closer. "I never said she looked bored, darling."

"You agreed with your Russian student, no?"

"Student...?" I found myself repeating, trying to decipher their exchange.

"Flat light," Artemisia continued. "Judith looks like she's making toast."

"I only wanted you to make better use of the lighting to tell your story."

Oh shit.

Something in my brain finally clicked, linking Artemisia and Lucia. "You're—"

"The professor who had me kicked out of university? Yes, she is."

Artemisia had never given me the whole story. I had actually only heard the details from Cora one night when I stupidly asked how Artemisia and I ended up at the same school together. Bay City had a decent art program, and I had a full scholarship thanks to my dead mom, but Artemisia had the skills and resources to literally go anywhere in the world that she wanted.

"Artemisia painted me in this lavish, classic nude odalisque pose," Lucia began to explain, "laying over there on the sofa. It was meant to be a gift for someone."

"Her husband," Artemisia answered the unasked question. And that was all I really needed to know at this point.

But Lucia bit back. "Who I assumed she knew about as he was also faculty at VCU."

"A boring philosophy professor. Why would I know?" Artemisia's accent quickened her words. "Why would I know? You fly me here to Malta with you for spring break, fuck me for a week, why would I know you have a husband?"

"Artemisia was healing from a broken heart, you see. She made the naive college mistake of falling in love with her roommate. But then it was my own mistake for wanting to spoil the poor girl. So after she found out I was married, she brought the nude painting of me back to VCU for final crit. Where she then read a series of rather raunchy text messages between us as her artist statement. I found it to be quite a turn on, honestly, but the university thought otherwise, of course. And unfortunately, I lost the most talented student I've ever come across."

"And then your husband passed suddenly," Desirae interrupted in the doorway in just a gold silk slip. "So you weren't fired straight away, but mournfully, you resigned."

"It was a very difficult time as you could imagine."

"Mhmm," Desirae murmured. "One dead husband is unfortunate. But two is—"

"Purely coincidence, I assure you," Lucia answered quickly. "But a couple dead husbands is something we all seem to have in common, just the same. Well, other than Kirby here." She turned to me and placed her hand on my arm. "Never get married, darling. Have all the lovers and partners you desire, but never tie yourself down to just one person."

"I don't think I'm the marrying type," I carefully replied.

"No, not likely." Lucia's hand slid down to my back as she stood next to me. "Which reminds me, Artemisia, once you update your bank account with us, we'll be sure to have the money transferred to you. Tonight, if you'd like."

"Chi nicchi e nacchi?" Artemisia glared at Lucia. "Money to me?"

"The money Kirby owes you, that she used to invest in Georgiy's gallery."

Artemisia's eyes fell on me, but before I could say anything, she spoke again. "Kirby doesn't owe me. It was her own money. Her share from Venice."

"Splendid. You're a free agent again, Kirby."

I was too shocked to say anything. The Cassini's never forgave debts. And Artemisia couldn't afford to do so now that her father completely cut her off. She had nothing.

"We will see you at dinner. Amuni." Artemisia pushed past Desirae back into the Rococo suite.

Desirae held the door, staring at Lucia. "Come on, Kirby."

"Give me another minute," I asked. "I'll be over."

"See you at dinner, Agent Udekwu," Lucia said with a sly smile.

As the door shut, I pulled away from Lucia. "I think they're just called officers now."

"A former FBI agent-turned-CIA officer bedding the daughter of one of the most ruthless mafiosos in Sicily... What is this interesting little triangle you've angled yourself into?"

"I wish I knew."

"Well, be careful with those two."

Using my right hand, I struggled to untie the red ribbon from my wrist. "Why?"

"Because at least one of them isn't telling you the whole truth."

"And I'm sure you will, right?" I rolled my eyes as I finally tore the ribbon off. "Here. Thanks for the shower. And all the hospitality. We'll be outta your hair tomorrow morning."

Lucia took the key back, hardly irritated, but amused instead.

As I tried the brass knob of the connecting door, it wouldn't turn. I tried again, rattling the whole thing.

"I think they locked you out, darling."

"Thanks. I'm aware." I huffed back over to Lucia and took back the key, turning back towards the door.

"Our security cameras caught a black Ferrari at the villa."

"I know. It was Desirae. In Artemisia's old Ferrari that apparently they stole from Atia Russo. That we then trashed running away from whoever those goons were." I twisted the key in the lock, but it wouldn't turn. "Did you intentionally give me a key that didn't fit?"

"Oh, it doesn't fit from this side. Just from the Rococo suite. I do try to respect boundaries, you know. What goons?"

Annoyed, I wriggled the key out and walked back over to Lucia. "Two Italian looking guys showed up at the villa the morning I woke up next to your headless husband. They killed Amondi. You didn't catch them on the camera?"

"The cameras were taken out shortly after the Ferrari pulled in the night before. When did the girls steal the Ferrari?"

My heart stopped. "The Ferrari was there that night?"

"Hmm... I do suppose I should move Atia's seat at dinner."