The grip of the gun kept... rubbing.

I didn't know how Desirae managed to walk strapped like this.

Instead of going out through the kitchen, Chaya led me down another hallway that snaked through the back of the villa. It must have been used by servants back in the day. My hand ran along the cold stone walls to guide me through the dark as we neared a door.

"After you." Chaya silently twisted the doorknob and gestured for me to go ahead.

Cautiously, I stepped through into the next room. Golden sunlight streamed through large modern windows—a stark contrast to the rest of the baroque style. My eyes slowly adjusted from the darkness of the hall to the setting sun's glow over the back gardens. Shelves of books filled most of the walls in the room. A red velvet loveseat and chairs sat in front of a light stone fireplace. Canvases of paintings leaned against each other along the back and one sat propped in an easel off to the side. Vapors from oil paints lingered in the air. Beyond the painting, a small bar was set up with a couple bottles of bourbon, scotch, gin, and the special reserve vodka from the Mikhailov family.

Curiosity tugged me towards the painting on the easel. As I stepped further into the room, the old wooden floors creaked beneath my gold heels. The smell of paint and turpentine grew stronger. I stepped around the easel to face the canvas.

Loose, gestural brushstrokes formed a male's body lying in bed and a woman straddled over him with a small sword in her hand. The angle brought to mind Artemisia Gentileschi's Judith, very confrontational, throwing you right into the scene. The faces were yet to be detailed other than some color blocking and shadows, but I knew it was meant to be Georgiy. The dark curly-haired woman on top of him, however, could be any one of us—Lucia, Chaya, Artemisia—or even myself.

And it was the first time I was seeing the murder weapon, if I could trust the depiction. A sword was certainly an interesting choice. I wondered if it was something Georgiy had picked up collecting art. Bit of a shame to die by his own sword, but very on-brand to say the least.

"Chaya, did Georgiy own—" As I looked back towards the doorway for her, it was empty. "Chaya?" I hurried back over to the dark hallway and whispered her name again, but it was silent.

I hadn't expected a dramatic, heartfelt goodbye from her, but a 'heads up, you're on your own' would have been nice. I figured she'd find me later to swap the necklace for the phone.

A chill crept through me as I turned back towards the painting. I ran my thumb down the wrapped edge of the canvas. Slick brown oil paint stained my skin, still wet. Likely, started this morning. Digging through the cubbies of brushes, palette knives, and paint, I found an unmarked mason jar of turpentine.

My eyes wandered to the bar where the wax-sealed bottle of vodka sat. I placed the turpentine back into the cubby and went over to the bar to investigate the spirits. All were already opened, except for the vodka.

Taking the sharp tip of a wine bottle corkscrew, I scored the wax seal and peeled it off. Then popped the wooden cap and held the bottle beneath my nose. Clean, crisp notes.

It smelled like normal vodka.

I took a small swig first. Slight citrus taste, but still very crisp, no strange lingering aftertaste like before. I took another just to be sure.

Then one more for courage.

Grabbing the bottle, I ventured out through the doorway and into the main hall. Soft, ambient music played throughout the mansion now. As I approached the dining room, Lucia's voice echoed out. She was wrapping up a toast to the members, thanking them for their support with some sexy, girl power inspiration.

I peeked my head around the corner and panned the long table. Lucia stood at the head, the kundan choker around her neck sparkled under the chandelier. Desirae held her flute of champagne, attentive like all the other women. Artemisia, on the other hand, looked annoyed and disinterested.

I wasn't sure how to play this one out, but I figured acting like I didn't just get fucked by an assasin after being locked in a freezer with a decapitated head was a good start. I pushed the gun down out of my crotch and shook out my nerves. My fingers tightened around the long skinny bottle of vodka as I waltzed into the dining room.

Lucia acknowledged me straight away. "Kirby, you're back just in time. Grab a glass, darling."

"Brought my own." I waved the bottle of vodka in the air. "Didn't get a chance to chill it though. I uh, had some trouble with the freezer."

I ignored most of the fifty faces staring at me and instead, focused straight on Charlene. Her wide eyes now narrowed. She gave me that same sour look she'd given Artemisia earlier.

"Ahh, our dear Kirby is anxious to get the party going, I see." Lucia eyed up my every step as I approached her at the head of the table. "Well, I won't keep you. There are a hundred beautiful new faces waiting in line outside, hungry for a taste of the divine feminine energy in this room. I know you'll all welcome them eagerly."

While Lucia continued her closing remarks, I reached down over Charlene and took her empty water glass from the table. Her body stiffened. Careful to cover the batch number on the bottle's label, I poured out a generous shot for her and plucked the flute of champagne from her fingers, replacing it with the vodka.

"What in the sodding hell is wrong with you?" she snapped under her breath. She slammed the glass down harder than she probably meant as it drew everyone's attention away from me to her.

"I uh, nicked this from Georgiy," I whispered. "He told me your husband's family bottles it. Couldn't resist of course."

I didn't even care that I was embarrassing myself at this point. I poured another shot into Lucia's water glass and swapped out her champagne too. She held her composure well in front of everyone, but I could tell she wanted to knock my ass down into a seat.

I finally made eye contact with Desirae. That ever-present, 'what the fuck are you up to' look was on her face. Just past her, Artemisia's eyes sharpened, smiling without smiling. She finally grabbed her flute.

"Ladies, remember your pleasure is the key to this world." Lucia raised her glass and the others followed. "Unlock it, and you'll be unstoppable." She watched and waited politely with her shot of vodka as the members all took a sip from their glasses for the toast. I drank from Lucia's champagne flute. Charlene, however, refused.

As I'd hoped.

"I uh, don't think it's proper toast etiquette to not at least take a sip," I goaded Charlene. "Bit rude. Unless you're pregnant?"

"This isn't a frat party," she snapped again.

"Oh, amuse us please," Lucia urged. Her hand dropped to Charlene's shoulder. "It'd do you good to loosen up a bit."

But Charlene still refused.

"I have no desire to give into her antics," she insisted. "We have standards here in this club, and she does not fit—"

Lucia's jaw hardened as she dug her fingernails into her skin. "Charlene, take the shot."

I tipped the rest of the champagne down my throat and wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist. "Lu, I think she has reason to believe the vodka may have been poisoned."

Lucia's green eyes flashed. She raised her glass to the light. "Is that true, Charlene?"

Charlene didn't break eye contact. She didn't try to argue or lie her way out or hell, blame me. I had to give her props for that.

"Ahh, well then." Lucia handed me her shot, but didn't take her eyes away from Charlene. "I do believe it's in your best interest to leave now, dear."

There was a silent stare down between the two of them for an uncomfortable moment. Finally, Charlene's chair scraped against the wooden floor, breaking the silence. She flung her cloth napkin down on the table and stood up. Her eyes fixed to me this time.

"Nostrovia," I toasted, tossing the vodka to the back of my throat with a smug smile.

The muscles and veins in her neck bulged, but she didn't say a word. She turned and stormed off, heels clicking down the hall.

"My circle of trust gets smaller and smaller every week it seems," Lucia murmured, picking up Charlene's glass to examine it further.

"What are you gonna do about her?" I asked under my breath.

"If she's smart, she'll run." Discreetly, she sniffed the vodka before raising it to her lips. Everyone in the room watched and waited. Except Artemisia. She was picking at her nails without a care. As Lucia downed the shot, a collective sigh of whispers hummed down the table. Their voices now relieved, returned to normal when she set her glass down and turned to me. "I appreciate your loyalty, Kirby. Seems I owe you twice now."

My eyes dropped to the kundan choker around her neck. Playfully, I ran my fingers along the jade beads, up around the back of her neck to try to get a feel for what type of clasp it was. "I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me."

Before I knew it, Lucia's lips were on mine. Soft and brief, but she was slow to pull away from my space.

Another chair scraped against the floor just a couple seats down, jerking my attention from the necklace—and Lucia. I looked over my shoulder to catch the back of Artemisia leaving the dining hall in a hurry. Desirae pushed out of her seat quietly to follow with barely a glance my way.

My smugness quickly humbled.

Lucia caught my hand as it lingered on her collarbone and pulled it down to our sides. Leaning in, she whispered through my hair. "I don't mind putting on a soft show with you for the members, but I don't play at my own parties, love." She squeezed my hand a little too hard before letting it go. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go welcome the rest of our guests."

"Good to know," I mumbled to myself as she walked away.