“He glares at everyone, Nyota.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll give you that.”

“Conor does care about me. But not that way.”

“Are you put your hand on the fire and burn your fingerprints sure? Because that’s not my read at all, and so far I’ve been able to predict with one hundred percent accuracy not only which partners at my firm are currently cheating on their spouses, but also with which clients—”

“I got you something,” I interrupt, briefly rolling around to retrieve the little paper bag I brought with me. After sneaking out of the theater, I spent a couple of hours wandering down Corso Umberto while sipping on a delicious drink made of water and sweet mint syrup. I visited a medieval palace, walked in and out of boutiques and souvenir shops, and decided to buy Nyota a present she would love.

“Wow. Nice attempt at distracting me. I am totally not a skilled litigator, and I will absolutely fall for—Oh my god.” She does the sign of the cross. “What in the seven seas is that monstrosity, and why is it breaching the sacrosanctity of my bedchamber?”

“A magnet,” I say innocently, forcing her to accept it. “Of the flag of Sicily. You’re welcome.”

“Is this the lady with snakes for hair? Who turns people into stone?”

“Yup, Medusa.”

“Why is she staring into my soul? And above all, why are three legs and two wings growing out of her neck?”

“The true question is, why not?”

“Terrifying.” She holds the magnet in her palm. “I need a priest. And a rabbi. And a doctor. Is this thing going to chase me at night?”

“It certainly has enough limbs to do so.”

“Wait. If I put it on my desk, will it keep my boss away?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Thank you for blessing me with this indispensable object, then.”

“You’re welcome. There were lots of other magnets, but this just called your name.”

“With the same voice as the kid from The Exorcist?”

“How did you—”

A knock interrupts me, and a moment later Rue and Tisha walk in. It’s almost 9:00 p.m., and they’re both already wearing their pajamas. Or still. Aside from Conor, Avery, and me, I don’t think anyone left the grounds of the villas.

“We heard gossiping voices,” Tisha says, pretzel-legged at the foot of her sister’s bed. “Decided that we wanted to be part of it.”

Nyota gives her a skeptical look. “I’m sure Rue was a focal part of this decision. She loves slumber parties.”

“I don’t mind,” Rue says, taking a much more composed seat next to me.

“Anyway. What were you two talking about? The curse?”

“Curse?” I ask. “What?”

“Well, Rue and I have been joking that only a cursed wedding can start with a vomitorium.”

“The wedding is not cursed,” I reassure Rue, who seems mostly amused by my concern for her concern. “We were not talking about a nonexistent curse.”