This evening Victor has hired a yacht to whisk us all around the lake while we enjoy a sunset dinner. I’m sure it will be magical.
Before Royce can protest, I lean in to kiss his cheek, and he goes totally rigid. I don’t have time to read into it though because I’m already turning and heading up the stairs back toward the villa. I want to go straight back to my room and shut the door. I want to hole up, want to pretend nothing is wrong and this tight ball of anxiety in my stomach is nothing more than a stomachache from too little lunch.
When I return, the book I left down on the lounge chair this morning is on the bed in my small room. A cream note rests on top. I’ve never seen Emmett’s handwriting before. Slightly slanted black ink, sharp and neat.
I won’t bring it up again.
It’s an apology of sorts, or at least a surrender.
I can’t afford to hold a grudge. It’s only the second day here in Italy, and without Emmett, I’m left with only the company of my grandmother. Sure, there’s Royce and the other party guests, but Emmett is a friend, as strange as it seems, and I can’t stand the idea of keeping him at arm’s length. I tried that this morning down by the lake, and it lasted all of five seconds. All he had to do was swoop in and, with a bit of charm, I gave him exactly what he wanted: my attention.
I’m inclined to believe he’s bored of the topic of Royce and me together, already having moved on. His walk with Marie proves that.
An evening on the lake calls for something special: a midnight blue silk mini dress that ripples like water when I walk. It has thin straps and a V-neckline that means I’ll have to be careful all night, no sudden movements, no bending over, or everyone will get more than an eyeful of cleavage. My only jewelry is a heavy sapphire that rests at the hollow of my neck, hanging on a delicate choker. I feel beautiful as I walk alongside my grandmother down toward the pier. On the gravel path, I take her hand in mine just in case. I don’t want her to lose her footing.
“You were smart to rest this afternoon,” she tells me. “It’s going to be a long night, and I’d think Royce would be eager to have you at his side all evening. You look enchanting.”
Guests loom ahead of us, gathered at the pier, waiting their turn to board the three-story vessel. On the upper deck, uniformed crew members wait in a straight line, one offering champagne, another offering signature cocktails. At the tail end, the captain introduces himself and beckons us on board. His good looks aren’t lost on my grandmother, who takes an extra minute to ask about the size of the boat, something I know she absolutely does not care about.
“This should be a wonderful cruise,” she concludes as we continue on. I swear there’s even a rosy tinge to her cheeks.
We take our champagne up to the top deck and find ourselves in the epicenter of the action. Linen-covered tables are overflowing with food. Bartenders man their stations, ensuring every guest has a fresh cocktail in hand. Soft music plays and people mill about. My grandmother is spotted right away, and we’re swept into conversation. I lose track of it, though, when Emmett arrives.
He’s wearing a dark blue suit, sans tie. Formal, and yet he wears his clothes like they’re an extension of his body, as comfortable to him as a pair of pajamas would be. He declines a glass of champagne and keeps moving. I can’t peel my gaze off him as he slips further into the party. A man stops him and shakes his hand, introducing himself with an eagerness that isn’t lost on Emmett. He’s polite though, well-mannered enough to give the man a few minutes of his time before stepping away. I’d love to know if he has a destination in mind. Maybe he’s trying to get to one of the bartenders, but he’s waylaid again, this time by Marie.
I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of people on the deck. It’s hard to not feel exhausted by the constant socializing that takes place during parties like this. I’m so used to my grandmother’s quiet house, the mundane normalcy of my day-to-day life. Sure, I attend galas and ballets and dinners, but nothing like this. From sunup until sundown, I’ve been surrounded by people.
I break off from the group and slip around the side of the deck, curious about the areas of the yacht I haven’t seen. I don’t have to go far to find a bit of peace and quiet, but it doesn’t last. I’m barely halfway done with my glass of champagne when Victor rounds the corner, spots me leaning against the rail, and hurries over, not even bothering to mask his look of delicious triumph.