06

« Can you help me undo this ? » she says.

Dominic and I both reach for the zipper. I let him have it, shrinking back into the shadows. I watch as the red dress comes undone around her, dissolving into a puddle of rosy silk.

I glance at the lacy bra and panties she’s wearing, but it’s intimate, too intimate―especially when I notice Dominic watching me coldly.

Once the worker uniform is on, and all three of us are clothed in matching uniforms, Dominic wheels the cart out of the exhibit and into the hallway. I don’t know where we’re going, and I’m certain I would be lost in here if Violetta hadn’t found me.

« Can you look up ahead ? » Dominic asks me. « Check if anyone is coming ? »

I give him a stony look. « If we’re dressed in worker uniforms, then why should we care if we’re here ? We’re not suspicious. »

But I relent. The truth is, I’m just as afraid of being caught. I move soundlessly over the marble tile. The soft shoes Dominic gave me are quiet―perfect. There is no one up ahead, but I can see the grand doors where the party awaits.

The way Vittoria described the ball tonight, I’m almost sad to miss it.

A sudden thought grips me. Vittoria―what if she comes looking for me ?

I go back into the hallway. Masked by shadows, I pause when I hear voices talking.

Dominic and Violetta.

« I don’t want her here, » Dominic says, the rough grate of his voice sharp in my ears. I know instantly he is talking about me.

« We need her. »

« What if she’s lying ? » And then, softer, « What did you promise her ? »

« She’s not. » Violetta hesitates, the tension palpable. « Fifty percent. »

I can hear a low string of Italian curse words. From where I’m standing in the shadow, neither of them can see me, but I can see the blood draining from Dominic’s face. « We can’t give a fifty percent cut. »

« I promised her. »

« Damn your word, then, » Dominic says, and I feel cold trickle into me. If I don’t get that money, if I can’t escape Nathan, if this was all for nothing . . .

« No, » Violetta says. Stone.

« How did you even meet her ? How do you know this is truth ? »

« She was drunk at a bar, and I danced with her. » I can feel the anger simmering off of Dominic. Violetta continues, « Then . . . we talked about art. And she told me about this painting. The Desperate Dancer. When she said it was valued at half a million dollars . . . I took her to the museum. The cameras were down, then, for maintenance. She showed me how to take it without damaging it, and then . . . we took it back to my place. And she fell asleep. »

Her words sound like they should be said softly, with sensitivity. But instead her tone is cold, unfeeling. As though it’s nothing more than a plot, as though I’m nothing more than an object.

Something to use. Discard.

I thought I saw the heat in her eyes when she was looking at me, but I was wrong. When this is over, and she doesn’t need me, I’ll never see her again.

I should feel relieved. Why am I not relieved ?

Sickened, I move back into the shadows. I make my appearance known by walking with heavier footsteps, as though I only just came back. As though I didn’t hear any of that.

« The coast is clear, » I say.

Dominic nods briskly and rolls the cart forward. Not a single person appears to open the door or question us. I can hear the music, loud and lively, from within the ballroom. I feel a longing to be inside there.

Why did I have to chase her ? Why did I have to get myself tangled into this―this disaster ?

No, I tell myself. If I get that money, and Violetta swore I would, then it would be worth it. One night of dancing for a life without Nathan. It was worth it.

But as we opened the doors into the night, the cart’s wheels harsh against the gravel, music fading behind us, I wondered. Had I made the right choice ?

Chasing her ?

« WHERE WERE YOU last night ? » Vittoria asks.

Morning sun streams through the curtains, and Vittoria stands above me as I rub my eyes, blinking blearily from the sleep.

My silver dress is at the foot of my bed. I remember tossing it there last night after I returned. With no way to contact Violetta, she told me to wait.

Wait for them to sell it, to auction it, I don’t know. Dominic gave me a searing stare, but Violetta’s soft smirk was warm.

I wondered if she felt it, too. This tension. This passion.

But no―there couldn’t be anything. Not if she was with Dominic. And that possessive look he gave her made me certain that they were together.

No, if I knew one thing, it was that I wouldn’t cheat. And I wouldn’t help anyone else cheat either.

« Well ? » Vittoria’s eyes are dark, but playful. I know she had fun last night, with or without me, but she still seems to care.

« I just felt sick, » I say weakly. « I had to throw up. It was embarrassing and I didn’t want to bother you, so I left. »

Guilt gnaws at me, but I give her a smile.

She puts her hand on my forehead. « You don’t feel hot, or sick. »

Then, suddenly, her face becomes more serious, as though the weight of the sky has been cast on her shoulders. « Cadenza . . . » My full name. Not a good sign. « Last night, a painting went missing from the museum. They’re not announcing it publicly, but my family has connections to the Santa Cecilia curators. If you had something to do with that― »

Not once, in any of this time, did I consider that she would know about the thefts.

« No, » I say quickly. Too quickly. « I had nothing to do with that. I was really just sick. »

Vittoria’s eyes are serious. It’s too much―I’ve never seen her in a mood that was anything less than playful.

« Cade, » she says. « If anyone could take something from that museum, it would be you. »

For for the first time, I wonder at how everyone appears to think I’m more intelligent than I am. But then I realize―could I be the one wrong ? After all, I did manage to steal two paintings, and I do know everything there is to know about art.

Except I can hear Nathan’s voice in my ear. No one will ever think you’re good enough. I’m telling you the truth, what no one wants to tell you. You’re just not very smart.

I ignore that searing hiss, and I give Vittoria the most genuine look I can muster. « I promise. I don’t know anything about those artworks. I just came home early. »

She nods, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

As Professor Lunetta talks, I feel a small buzz against my thigh. Dante Rosso, who is sitting beside me―and has been for the past week―gives me a wink.

« Secret lover ? » he whispers. « A forbidden affair ? Romantic tryst ? »

I roll my eyes.

Unknown number

West Fountain. Midnight.

Sent at 11 :06 a.m.

Immediately, I know it’s Violetta. Before Dante can read it, I shove it back into my pocket and he gives me a wounded look. « Am I not privy to your dashing adventures ? You know I live precariously through you. »

I don’t tell him what I’m thinking, which is that he, by no means, lives through me. Dante has enough of his own affairs and romantic trysts to last a lifetime. Known for being a player, Vittoria told me he’s slept with half of the women―and men―in this Sicily.

« Pay attention, » I hiss at him.

This is the moment Professor Lunetta calls my name. « Signorina Conti, am I occupying too much of your busy time ? »

I groan inwardly. « No, Professor. »

Several people turn to look back at me. This isn’t the first time Lunetta has called on me. It seems we have a feud waged between us.

« Do you feel as though my lectures are wasteful ? Useless ? »

« No, Professor. »

Dante is trying to hold in a fit of laughter next to me. I want to turn and give him a withering look, but Lunetta and I are locked in a stare now. Her glasses are thin and wire-rimmed, and her blond hair is a disaster of curly ringlets. Her earrings are enormous, glittering triangles and she is wearing a flowing dress down to her feet, patterned with moons. Despite it all, she paints a vicious picture.

« Why are you here, Conti ? »

This time, the attack feels more personal. « To learn. »

« Are you ? »

« I would be if you didn’t keep singling me out. »

For the second time, I am kicked out of class.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I find myself in the Accademia’s office, trying to wrestle an answer out of one of the secretaries. « I want an appointment. With the dean. »

« I can’t, Signorina Conti. It’s against the rules. You’re only a first year. »

« I’ve never heard of ridiculous rules like that before ! » I’m close to thumping my fist on the desk, but the secretary looks scared enough. My temper is rising, and I don’t know how to stop it. « I want to switch classes. Okay ? Is that too much to ask for ? »

« I just―I can’t give that to you―you need to talk to someone higher up― »

I groan. « When can I talk to someone higher up ? »

« You can’t ! »