Page 88 of The Thief

“Do you have it with you?” Rosa asks.

“No, but I have a picture.”

I pull out my phone and show Rosa and Valentina the bracelet Antonio had custom-made for me. Valentina whistles under her breath. “If those are real rubies,” she says, “then this bracelet is worth?—”

“Don’t tell me,” I interrupt. “I don’t want to know. It’ll just freak me out.” I turn to Rosa. “Any thoughts on a dress?”

She zooms in on the bracelet and nods. “I have just the thing in mind.”

The dress Rosa brings out is gold. “The fabric is a metallic lamé,” she says. “Try it on.”

I change into it, and Valentina helpfully zips me up. “Wow,” she says. “You look amazing.”

“I do?” I look in the mirror, and my mouth falls open. Rosa is right; this is the perfect dress. The metallic fabric catches the light, shimmering delicately as I move. The bodice is draped, clinging lovingly to my bust and falling in soft folds over my arms. The skirt has a high side slit, and the hem pools on the floor. The dress is reminiscent of the togas worn by Greek goddesses but in a modern, updated way.

“I’ll have to alter the fit a little,” Rosa says, circling me slowly and making notes on a tablet. “If you like it, that is. What do you think?”

“Yes,” I say instantly. I don’t even ask her how much it’s going to cost—it doesn’t matter. I can’t wait for Antonio to see me in this dress. I feel like a magical creature, a mythic goddess sheathed in golden glowing fire. “Yes, yes, yes.”

I inviteValentina for a drink after we visit Rosa’s studio, and she responds by giving me a teasing look. “I’ve barely seen you in weeks, and now you’re inviting me for a drink?”

“Have I really been that bad?”

“I’m just messing with you. Sorry, I can’t; I have to get back. Are you going to be okay on your own?”

“What kind of question is that?” I ask indignantly. “I’ve been on my own my whole life—of course, I’m going to be okay on my own.” That’s a lie. I miss Antonio already. “I’m going to binge all ten episodes of my Korean mafia drama without Antonio watching over my shoulder and commenting on how unrealistic everything is.”

Valentina laughs. “Sounds like a plan. Have fun.”

We part ways, and I walk home, my ever-present guards trailing me. I’m almost at my building when I turn the corner and see the neighborhood restaurant I used to go to almost every night when I first arrived in Venice.

I haven’t eaten there in weeks. Signora Stanescu must be wondering what the hell happened to me.

On impulse, I duck inside and take a seat.

It’s more crowded than usual, and the cheerful proprietor is nowhere to be seen. I glance at the menu, not really reading it, and find myself listening in on the two American tourists beside me.

“I love this place,” one of them says. “This would’ve been a great neighborhood to stay in. It’s so quiet but still near everything.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Our place fell through,” the other replies. “We’d booked it ages ago, but the host canceled on us at the last minute. He said the building got sold, and the new owners weren’t allowing tourist rentals. I practically begged him to reconsider, but he said he would get evicted if he did, and he wasn’t going to take the chance.” She sighs noisily. “At least he refunded us. Can you imagine having to fight for that money back?”

“And you couldn’t find anything else around here?”

“No! It was so annoying. It’s winter—shouldn’t there be plenty of apartments? But I swear it seemed like every rental in this area disappeared overnight.”

I can’t hear what she says next because, just then, Signora Stanescu bustles up to my table. “Lucia,” she says warmly, kissing both my cheeks in greeting. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Pasta today, or the special?”

“The special,” I reply. “Signora Stanescu, did your building get sold?”

She gives me a very peculiar look. “It wasn’t just this building,” she says. “Didn’t you get a notice?”

I frown in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Your building was sold too. Someone came in and bought every building in this square.”

“What? Why?”

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