"Lisette," I gasped, catching Desirae's wrist just as her fingertips began to glide deeper. "Hi."

"Sorry, I—I did not realize you—I can go."

Desirae's lips mumbled in agreement against my neck. Her fingers began to roll against my clit. I almost let her win.

"No, no wait," I pleaded, straining to get out of Desirae's arms. She glared as I spun away. The gun in the bucket on the bar caught my eye, barely hidden beneath the ice. "Desi, why don't you go a-head and take a peek at the freezer—" I shoved the metal bucket into her stomach "—and get us some ice to take up to our room. So we can chill our champagne. Upstairs. In a safe place. Where I will meet you shortly."

Her eyes shifted between me and Lisette. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

"Because I'm drunk. You're drunk. And she's... blonde."

Lisette touched her hair. "Mes cheveux?"

"She knows I've got a thing for blondes. Fetish, even," I murmured. "But it's fine. I'm fine." I grabbed Desirae's jaw and kissed her the same way she kissed Artemisia before sending her off to play. "I'll meet you upstairs."

Desirae's head tipped with irritation. Maybe even jealousy? I still had no idea what she wanted. Or who. But I knew her priority as always was the job. Even if she was drunk. Which meant she had better go look at Georgiy's frozen head.

"You can sneak to the back of the kitchen through that door."

She eyeballed me and Lisette once more before finally gliding past towards the door in the dark corner. The bar's amber light seeped through her sequined gown, revealing her bare curves underneath. I didn't even try to pretend that I wasn't staring.

"Is she really a Nigerian princess?" Lisette asked, watching Desirae disappear into the shadows.

"Something like that..." The faint scent of her jasmine perfume lingered against the harsher paint vapors as she walked away. I could still smell Artemisia's Chanel too. She always seemed to somehow find a way to make herself present. I glanced down at her abandoned cocktail sitting on the bar.

Lisette took a step closer to me. "And you?"

"Definitely not a princess." I raised the drink to my nose first. Sweet, citrus notes. "Or Nigerian, for that matter."

She smiled, though apprehensively, inching towards me. Her steps were timid to match her expression. And her usual grace had a tipsy sway with her approach. "I guess I do not know if I want the truth... or if I want you."

"You don't want me," I mumbled through the lip of the glass. Bittersweet amaro ran over my tongue, finishing with a cool mint. "There's over a hundred beautiful women here tonight, you don't want me. And you probably don't want my truth either. I'm—" Voices in the hall pulled at my blurred attention. Or maybe I was looking for any excuse to avoid eye contact. "I'm not a good person."

"It is true, then? What that woman said, those things you did?"

My hand went to the thin bump of scar tissue on my neck. "Yes."

Lisette's thick dark brows furrowed as her head of blonde waves dipped down. "Does Chiara exist?"

"I wanted her to, Lizzie. I really wanted her to."

"I think our intentions matter, no?" She looked back up and held my gaze. "Maybe you are not a good person, but that does not make you bad either. Sometimes we do bad things for good reasons. Better than doing good things for bad reasons."

I took a long sip of the amaro to consider what she was saying.

"So maybe you had good reason to kill Artemisia's ex-girlfriend. And maybe you had good reason to leave me in Palermo. But we are here now together again and I do not think that is coincidence."

"It's not, is it?" I wondered aloud. Lisette was thinking it was fate, but I knew it had been planned. Lucia had to have seen Lisette with me at the marina before I ran off. She had manipulated this. Us. Likely, all of us. But how deep did it go? And what the fuck was the endgoal?

"So good, bad, I don't care. I should, but not tonight," her voice lowered. She grabbed a shot glass from the bar and filled it with an American whiskey. "Life is too short for such pointless details. Men do not care if we are good or bad people. Why should I?"

She was obviously still having trouble with her husband back in France trying to lock her down. Maybe this was a fitting club for her to join. "I guess that is one way to look at it."

A few French words stumbled from her lips before she downed the shot. "He knows I am here, but disapproves. So good until you look bad to others, right?"

I think I was following. I nodded my head.

"Life is too short," she repeated with more of a command this time. "And I like to get what I paid for."

Her brown eyes lowered to my lips. Goosebumps prickled my arms. My body tensed. Lisette looked nothing like Artemisia's ex. I had to keep telling myself that. I had to prove it to myself. I couldn't let my mind get the best of me again.

Threading her blonde hair through my fingers, I pulled her into a sloppy drunk kiss, gripping the glass of amaro in my other hand just in case I needed a bracer. We stumbled away from the bar and began to make our way to the sofa as other voices entered the room, but Lisette didn't seem to notice or care.

And I certainly didn't mind an audience.

Velvet brushed against my bare back as Lisette pushed me down to sit. Some of the amaro splashed down my chest. Her tongue slid over my skin and up my neck. My eyes shut as she whispered something in French. Something about a friend. The translation blurred in my mind and I gave up trying to understand. Her accent alone was sexy enough.

She slid up her dress, straddling my lap as she guided my hand between her legs. My fingers slid beneath silk, finding her wet already for me. Her hips moved up and down against my fingertips wanting me to enter, but I leaned back into the sofa to tease her out first. Lifting the glass to my lips, I slowly traced against her slit, back and forth, watching her writhe.

But as I went to take a sip of the amaro, our company came around the sofa to join.

"Oh." Artemisia stopped hard in front of us. Soraya stumbled into her back with a soft drunk giggle, holding her waist.

My hand quickly slid away and up around the top of Lisette's thigh. But Lisette didn't stop. She didn't bother to glance behind to see. She grabbed my hand again and this time slid me inside herself.

She smiled through a gasp as Artemisia stepped up behind her. My eyes flicked between them both, not knowing what to expect. Artemisia's fingers wrapped around one side of Lisette's waist as she leaned past her reaching towards me.

"Scusa, bedda." Her lips nearly touched Lisette's cheek in a whisper. Her gaze hovered down over her body, but ultimately came to rest on me. Her blue eyes iced over me for what felt like forever, but was hardly a second in reality.

Plucking the drink from my hand, Artemisia barely stepped back to take a sip before setting the glass down on the arm of the sofa. She led Soraya over to the loveseat next to us and laid her down.

Lisette's lips found my ear again. "That is your ex, no?"

I pretended like that wasn't a complicated question. And pretended like I wasn't watching Artemisia kiss Soraya's thighs. And that I couldn't feel her between my own. "Oh, uh yeah."

Lisette grinded down against me. "I think she wants you."

"I think she wants to kill me."

Did I say that out loud?

"Maybe you gave her good reason to?"

"Definitely did."

She mumbled something pleasurable in French, but I was listening for Artemisia's voice beneath the music and behind the moans coming from Soraya's mouth. I found it lower than her usual tone, speaking Arabic. I'd only ever heard her use it a couple of times. I didn't know what she was saying, but my body seemed to. I watched as she dipped her tongue into Soraya, lips wrapping around her, pulling back to use her fingers, talking her through everything.

Her head turned just slightly, enough that her eyes landed on me again. Even in the dim lighting, I caught the dip of her dimple. Without missing a beat, her words switched to English.

She wanted me to know what she was saying.

"Chiara?"

I flipped my attention back to Lisette. Her rhythm had slowed against me to match the sexy synthetic beat of the music. I used my thumb to rub her clit while she grinded up and down on my lap.

"We can join them if you like," Lisette whispered.

"No," I answered a little too fast. "No, this is good. And actually, we can go—"

With a gasp, she tightened around my fingers, pulses thumping at my fingertips. She was ready to come and I wasn't too far behind her. But in the dark corner of the room, a shimmer of gold caught my eye.

Desirae inched out, leaning against the door to the back hall.

Her eyes met mine, but she didn't turn to leave or even look away. She continued to watch us both, turning me on more than I would have imagined.

Artemisia must have noticed I wasn't stealing glances. She followed my stare and smiled again when she saw my new focus. Her dirty words for Soraya faded to moans of her own as I realized her hand was beneath her own dress, fucking herself too.

Lisette called my name again, grinding faster against me. I thrusted harder to match her pace. Artemisia's back arched and I knew she was right there too. The gold sequins of Desirae's dress caught the light with our same rhythm. My body began to throb, feeling both of them with me.

Ready to come with me.

Lisette's body quivered and pulsed around my fingers. A high pitched moan brought her forward, blonde hair spread over my chest as she collapsed against me.

My throat tightened.

I shut my eyes to try to just focus on Artemisia's voice.

I opened them again to lock eyes with Desirae.

But blonde hair was everywhere and all I could feel was her limp body again.

"Kirby," Artemisia called out. Desirae stepped out of the shadows.

Springing up, I flipped Lisette off of me and back onto the couch. My knuckles were sore, clenching Artemisia's glass in my hand. I didn't know when I had even grabbed it.

"Chiara?" Lisette looked up at me with lustful eyes, confused.

Apologizing, I stumbled backwards into the coffee table. Desirae took the glass from my hand and set it down. My chest heaved, ribs not expanding with any breaths.

"Cicchitedda..." Artemisia placed her hand on my chest. I focused on that sensation. "Come, we go get some air."