I leaned against the marble balusters along our balcony, slowly breathing in the fresh night air. Even miles away, the salt of the Mediterranean carried on the breeze. Below at the pool, women were playing and fucking in the water. I closed my eyes and imagined I was back in my little seaside village, painting the sunset over the harbor, waves slapping at the rocks. The thought of the sea always managed to settle my heart.

But the slam of drawers shutting and opening and shutting again in our room made me open my eyes. Both Desirae and Artemisia's voices rang out, not even trying to whisper behind my back.

"She needs a coffee."

"She needs therapy."

"Mah, she needs to come."

Metal clanged over whatever Desirae responded.

"We should have went to Tunisia."

"I can't help her if I can't get her home, Artie."

"I'm fine," I insisted, slipping around the curtains. Artemisia stood next to Desirae with a moka pot in her hand. It felt like I just walked in on my parents arguing over me. Except I never had such a gentle family dynamic. Anytime my mom argued with her boyfriends there was normally glass breaking. Skin hitting skin. My eyes darted from Desirae to Artemisia. "Really."

"Amuri—"

"You were ready to strike Lisette with that glass," Desirae stated directly. "You're not fine, Kirby."

My stomach twisted into knots. I didn't even remember grabbing the glass. My body had just reacted. My head was hazy, not just from being drunk, but like after just waking up from a dream. Reality blurred. Just like the last time with Lisette. I should have never put her at risk like that again. "Is she okay?"

"I don't think she noticed, fortunately," Desirae answered.

Artemisia nodded. "It was a very good orgasm."

"I should go check on her."

Artemisia sidestepped to block me. Her leg slipped through the slit in her dress, brushing against mine. "Maybe you give yourself a moment first."

"That's twice now, right?" Desirae asked, her speech still a little slurred. "That's what happened back in Palermo with her?"

She didn't need me to confirm it. "Exactly why I shouldn't be trusted with the gun."

Artemisia's eyes widened. "What gun?"

"My gun." Desirae opened a drawer in the vanity and held it up. "Which I still don't understand how you've had it this whole time."

"I haven't. Chaya just gave it to me after she freed me from the freezer."

"Kirby, how could this Chaya have gotten my gun?" Desirae slowly crept back towards me. "I last had it fighting with you on that cliff in Sicily. It should be at the bottom of the sea."

"I don't know, Des. She's some badass assassin. She's been following me around, saving my ass." I could tell she didn't believe me. I didn't know if I could even believe myself at this point, but I couldn't let them see my doubt. "Do we even know it's for sure your same gun? I mean, they pretty much all look and feel the same, don't they?"

With a soft click, the magazine released into Desirae's open hand. She walked the gun over to me and held it out by the grip, pointing it away. The light shone over the beautiful filigree engraving along the slide with the initials R.S. carved into its edge.

"It was my husband's gun."

I looked back up at Desirae trying to comprehend the situation. Nothing made sense.

"Why were you in the freezer, amuri?" Artemisia asked.

At least that was a question I could answer. "Charlene locked me inside when I went to drop off Georgiy." I studied Artemisia's face for any reaction. "Did you know his head was on that platter under the lid?"

"I saw," she admitted with just a shrug. "But did I know? No."

"And did you happen to see anything the last night his head was still attached to his body?"

Desirae looked up from her gun, clearly interested in the answer as well.

Artemisia's blue eyes shifted between us knowing she was caught. She set the moka pot down on the marble-top dresser. "I went to Lucia to see if she could help me find you, amuri." Anger edged her voice. "I had no idea you were upstairs. Because if I did, I would not have—" She waved us off and glanced briefly towards the door into Lucia's room. "Her help always comes at a price. It is what I was trying to explain to you earlier. But you made your own choices."

"What price?" Desirae asked.

Artemisia was quiet, but I already had a feeling what price she meant. I stepped closer to her. "Chaya told me Lu wanted to buy you from Pino. I'm assuming that was when we—I got caught in Paris. But he forced you to marry Landon instead."

Artemisia leaned back against the dresser. "And fortunately, my father has no say in what I do anymore."

"So while Kirby was upstairs killing Lucia's husband to get the money for you, you were selling yourself to her for Kirby," Desirae inferred, placing the gun back in the vanity. "Lucia got exactly what she wanted and both of you ended up in some fucked up mafia twist on O. Henry."

I didn't even bother trying to defend myself at this point. Desirae was right regardless. Lucia had wanted Georgiy dead and she wanted Artemisia. And we had given her both by more or less sacrificing ourselves for the other like fucking fools.

"Why would you do something so stupid?" I tore into her. "I thought you wanted me dead, Artemisia. You were trying to kill me. I got shot for fuck's sake. Why would you give yourself to her for me?"

"Why?" Artemisia pushed off the dresser towards me, hands angrily gesturing. "Why? Why do you think? Maybe the same reason you took the fall for me in Paris?"

"Because I was an idiot?"

Artemisia's eyes sharpened. I knew what she meant, but I didn't want to hear her say it. Our love was toxic and saying it out loud only fueled a fire neither of us could put out. It was better for all of us to keep her hating me.

Her arms crossed over her chest. "You think I am an idiot too?"

Desirae stepped between us. Her hand slid down my arm. "Kirby, if it makes you feel any better, those bullets were meant for me."

Both Artemisia and I broke our glare to jerk our heads her way. "What?"

"I've been uncovering some deep shit with this operation. That art Georgiy was moving wasn't just art. It was women. And I thought maybe Lucia was involved with her club, but she's not as far as I can tell. Though that clearly doesn't make her innocent by any means."

"It's the Mikhailovs," I realized. "That's why Charlene wanted the club. And the network of women. That's why she was trying to frame Lu by poisoning Georgiy."

And the more I thought about it, maybe Charlene had been behind the whole thing. Could she have been at the villa too? I needed to get that phone from Chaya to see what was on the security footage. But something else still wasn't adding up.

"Those men in the van," I started, "they weren't Russian. We saw their faces at the villa. They were the same ones who shot me the night before."

"And they stopped shooting when they saw you on the balcony," Artemisia added.

I hadn't realized that before, but she was right. I vaguely recalled seeing the man beneath the streetlight who waved for them to stop. Something told me he wasn't currently in the van at the bottom of the cliff with the other goons.

"I'm still sorting out the faces, but it will make more sense when we get back home." Desirae slid the strap of my gown off my shoulder to inspect the gunshot wound again. The bandage was long gone. "So I guess you actually took a bullet for me."

My body started to warm from her touch. Or maybe that was still just the liquor. Stepping back, I pulled my strap back up and tried to clear my head. But the strap wouldn't stay up. And my mind was anything but clear. "When we get home? I'm not going home with you until that red notice is wiped clean. I don't even know where home is anymore."

"Home is with people who care about you," Artemisia replied.

"People who care about me?"

Desirae turned back to Artemisia. "I have to get her stateside."

"The States? No, no we all go back to Sicily," she insisted. "I have to show you—"

"They'll lock her up as soon as she sets foot in Pozzallo."

"Then we don't go back to Pozzallo. We go to Trapani."

"She can't just keep running, Artie."

"She is not running, she can stay with Nanna. You forget we have done this before."

"And how'd that work out for you both? Not even you will be able to get her out of this."

"Basta!" I found myself yelling. "Enough. I'm not going anywhere until I figure all this out. On my own. I don't need either of you choosing for me. Fuck, I don't even know where I fit in with you—or you." I gestured past Desirae to Artemisia. "I don't know what you want from m—"

As I turned back to Desirae, her hand wrapped around the nape of my neck and her lips crashed into mine. For a hot second, I let myself give into her embrace, tasting sweet liquor on both our tongues. But as she pulled me tighter to her body, I came to my senses and pushed back, looking over her shoulder for Artemisia.

But she was no longer there.

Before I could turn around, another pair of lips pressed against the back of my neck. A flush of heat coursed through my body. Artemisia's mouth traced the slope of my neck up to my ear where she found Desirae waiting.

"Oh, no. No." I tried to find my head through the hazy lust. "This—this is a bad idea." I placed my hands on Desirae's hips to push away again. But my fingertips sunk into the sequins of her dress, the exact opposite of what I should've done.

"Definitely," Artemisia mumbled into the hollow of my neck, sliding my dress further off my shoulders. "Bad idea."

Desirae smiled. "At least that's something we all agree on."

Her lips pressed against my chin, my neck, finding my pulse. My body arched back into Artemisia as her fingers slipped beneath my dress. My breaths quickened, heart racing for both of them. Her nails dragged against my thigh, then softly she teased between my legs. My own hand started to lower from Desirae's hips, but I pulled it back up again.

"Maybe I should just watch."

Just as Artemisia's fingers started to slide against my center, they left my skin. "Okay," she whispered.

My body refused to move, even as she stepped away from me to get behind Desirae again. Her hand snaked between my gown and Desirae's sequins. I watched them shimmer as her fingers dipped underneath. Desirae's grip tightened on the back of my hair. Her moan rippled through every pleasure center in my body.

But I continued to just watch until Artemisia's hand slid out. And raised to my lips.

I couldn't refuse.

Her fingers filled my mouth, rolling back and forth against my tongue. The sweet taste of Desirae on Artemisia's skin made me wetter than I already was. I looked up to see Desirae watching me now with a glassy lust in her eyes. She held the back of my head as Artemisia went knuckles deep.

"Good girl," she murmured.

My tongue slid between Artemisia's middle fingers hungry for more. But she pulled out. Desirae's grip loosened in my hair and she turned away towards Artemisia.

I watched again as they kissed, knowing this was a bad idea.

But that was kinda my brand at this point.