Another round of betting begins and the game continues, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t get our conversation out of my head the rest of the day. I’m not sure who I feel sorrier for, Royce, who seems to want someone who holds absolutely no interest in him, or Lainey, who seems incapable of getting herself out of a situation that will undoubtedly make her miserable in the end.

Later that evening, rather than head down to the dining hall, I choose to take dinner in my room so I can catch up on work I’ve missed throughout the week. I’m grateful to be leaving Italy the day after tomorrow. Every project has been on hold while I’ve been away, and I hate the feeling of being behind. Emails have been pouring in, I have close to a hundred unread text messages on my phone, and I feel the burn of all the fires that will need putting out upon my return to Boston.

I work until late into the night, and then when the house grows quiet and all the guests seem to have gone to bed, I stand, stretch my aching back, and change into my swimsuit so I can head down to the lake.

I don’t expect Lainey to join me again after what happened last night, but there’s always hope. I’d like to apologize to her, or at least check in to see how she’s feeling.

This thing between us has grown complicated. Our forced proximity this week was unusual for a friendship like ours, and perhaps the kiss would have never happened had we not been in Italy.

I’m not clear on what my motives are with her. If Royce had truly pressed me for the nature of my relationship with Lainey, I wouldn’t have been able to give him a solid answer. The truth is, she intrigues me, and it’s been so long since I’ve experienced that feeling about someone that I can’t help but want to act on it, selfish though it may be.

I walk down to the pier and sit in the same spot from last night, and I wait.

Lainey doesn’t come.

Chapter Twenty

Lainey

Tonight happens to be Halloween, which is why Victor’s planned a masquerade ball to finish out the week of festivities. Of course, no one is actually going to come in costume. Everyone will be dressed in couture and relying on their masks to form the bulk of their disguise.

My custom Dior dress is held up by a fitted corset overlaid with soft silk, so tight I feel like I can’t take a deep breath. The skirt flutters to the ground, made of nearly transparent layers of tulle, each one adorned with ethereal sequined stars, so subtle you’d have to bring the fabric right up to your face to be able to make out the pattern. It’s the dress of an angel, and my slim silvery-white mask furthers the effect. It was made by an artisan at Dior who used embroidered stars to form a cat’s-eye mask so delicate I’m scared to touch it once it’s been tied in place.