Page 48 of Backhanded Compliments

“No, Claudia, I’m tired,” Juliette whines, laying it on thick.

Claudia shakes her head, pearl earrings jangling. “It’s tradition.” She pinches Juliette’s cheek, and she swats her away. “Don’t make me sic Remi on you.”

Juliette rolls her eyes. “Fine. Give me five to get out of this.” She plucks at her tight bodice.

Claudia kisses the cheek she pinched. “I love it when you cooperate nicely with my plans,” she says with saccharine sweetness.

TWENTYLUCA

The dusky night is stifling. The cicadas howl, and the distant roar of the ocean beckons Luca for a late-night dip.

She knows she should be enjoying nights like these. It’s hot and beautiful, and the stars are an epic tapestry of fate and riotous light. In an ancient city like this, it’s a night for nymphs and forgotten gods. For wild love and laughter, to be reckless and foolish and young and give in to temptation.

And yet Luca can’t dive into the beckoning abyss of abandon when her heart weighs so heavily in her chest, an anchor that drags her mood down.

She wanders out to the side patio, surrounded by lush greenery. Someone has flicked the string lights on. It’s barely enough to combat the shadows, but it creates a warm sphere. The terra-cotta is still sun-warmed beneath Luca’s socked feet.

Claudia and Remi slide out of the villa laden with bottles of wine and cases of beer, which they lay out on a half-wall protecting the patio from an overgrown swath of plants.

“Chug this,” Claudia tells Remi, shoving a bottle at her.

“What, why?” Remi asks, but she obliges anyway, downing the beer in a couple of quick swigs.

Claudia plucks the bottle out of her fingers and places it in the middle of the table. “We’re playing Truth or Drink. Gather the others. And, Luca, don’t you dare think about sneaking off.”

Dread spreads in Luca’s chest, but she goes over to the cases of beer, grabs one, and cracks it open. She’s going to need it. Claudiagrins at her. She changed out of her dress and into a pair of tiny jean shorts and a crop top quickly, but her makeup is still intact.

Luca pulls out one of the chairs surrounding the table and flops down into it. She shrugged off her jacket and bow tie earlier; now, she rolls up her sleeves. She scoops her hair up, twisting it around her fist. A cool, salty breeze whispers through their private grotto, disturbing the heavy heat that has settled upon Luca’s skin.

The rest of the players Claudia wrangled into her game start to fill up the table. Octavia wanders over and flops into a chair, listless. Her boyfriend, Leo Mantovani, left the previous night for a tournament in London, and Octavia seems adrift without him.

Zoe Almasi sits next to Octavia and smiles over at her. Zoe’s dark silky hair is thrown into a high bun and wrapped with a scarf. Remi hands her a cocktail of some sort before she takes the seat next to her. Only one chair remains between Luca and Remi.

“How does she manage to do this?”

Luca startles and turns as Payton Calimeris slides into said chair, beer in hand. “Who?” Luca asks.

Payton gestures to Claudia, who is arguing with Juliette over the music.

“Seriously, Claudia?” Juliette is saying, hands on her hips.

“What? ‘Pompeii’ is the perfect song for Naples, Jules,” she says, turning up the volume a few ticks.

Juliette shakes her head. “It isn’t even Bastille’s best song,” she grumbles.

“She is very adept at putting us under her spell.” Karoline takes the seat on Luca’s other side. Now Luca is flanked by two absolute legends, and her palms start to sweat.

Karoline is as chic as ever, but she lets her golden hair fall loose around her shoulders. She runs her fingers through the top, fluffing it with one hand as she holds a half-drunk glass of white wine in the other. “I’m surprised you guys even want us here.”

Luca stares at her. Even in this casual setting, her back is ramrod straight and her lipstick is impecable. She turns her dark brown eyes toward Luca, a corner of her mouth lifting in a small approximationof a smile that’s more of a smirk. There’s something intimidating about the way she holds herself aloof.

“Don’t mind her,” Payton teases. “She’s just talking shit.” Luca turns her head to look over at Payton, but she is staring at Karoline, totally at ease in her chair. Payton has tamed her curls back with a clip, but they spill out the top, the ends beginning to frizz in the Italian heat, a playful grin on her full, lush lips. This close, Luca can see freckles on the bridge of Payton’s nose, faint against her warm brown skin.

Luca starts to say something, but Claudia cuts her off by spinning the bottle in the center of the table with a flourish and clapping loudly to get everyone’s attention.

“The name of the game is Truth or Drink. Whoever the bottle lands on gets a question from the spinner. Don’t want to answer? Drink up. I’ll go first.”

She flicks the bottom of the bottle, and it whirls wildly, wobbling until it lands on Payton Calimeris.

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