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School, international vacations, parent drama, guys, girls, etc. The point of Wilder sending me screenshots of their conversations wasn’t to get dirt. No, my plan was so much simpler than that.
I got bored halfway through Amélie and whispered for Katie to hand me her laptop. They were all laughing, watching the movie, and doing each other’s nails. That left me free to do what Wilder asked me. I paid careful attention to who was around the pool before Giovanni found me, and paid better attention to who disappeared when the killer found us.
It wasn’t enough to bring to the cops, but it was a start.
The food arrived while I was finishing up.
“Yum.” Katie handed me a plate and I dug in. Letting Chef Maria work her magic was the right call. The woman did not make food people liked. She made food they loved.
“Who do you keep texting?” Gabriella asked when I took another peek at their screenshots. She swiped at my phone.
“Hey! Chill out. I already told you I’m texting Victor. His mom has some ideas for the wedding that he’s running by me.”
“That wedding is never happening.” Saylor twirled her pasta between newly painted sparkly blue fingers. “Better, proper families have been sending Martha and John marriage proposals since the engagement party. It’s only a matter of time before they get the right one.”
“Now that is never going to happen,” I replied. “Victor wants me and only me. He’d never leave me for the money-grubbers that slunk out from under their rocks the minute they heard he was looking for a wife.” I looked pointedly at Everleigh, who flushed. “What we have is real.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind if we read lover boy’s texts.”
Gabriella lunged for my phone. I reacted quick, twisting away, and dumped salmon, pesto, and pasta all over my lap.
“Gabby,” Katie cried. “What are you doing?”
“Oops, sorry, Katie.” Gabriella seized my forearm. “I’ll help her get cleaned up.”
It wasn’t a request. She hauled me up in a grip like iron, dragging me to the bathroom. I barely got out a shout before she shoved me inside and slammed the door.
One hundred and ten pounds of flowing locks, makeup, and impeccable genetics turned on me with a snarl that made me grimace. She wasn’t looking too pretty right then.
“Give me your phone. Now.”
“Uhh, no.”
“Don’t mess with me, bitch.” She moved and I moved, maintaining as much distance as I could in the small space. “Saylor said you have pictures of me and Giovanni on your phone. Fucking give it to me now. It’s going in the toilet.”
“Make that hell no.” I squared my stance like Lucien taught me. “I’m not giving you anything.”
“Yes, you are, because the only way you’d have those photos is if you were there. Someone blew up Gio’s car. Someone texted Annika and sent her to the beach house.” She smirked. “Now I know who. The police didn’t have enough evidence to arrest your ass Friday night, but when they find out you were stalking and terrorizing him, you’ll be some tatted-up thug’s bitch girl by the weekend.
“Either give the phone to me, or give it to the cops. Your choice.”
“The cops.”
Her smirk twitched. “What?”
“I’ll give it to the cops,” I repeated. “Go ahead and call them. I’ll wait.”
Her mouth opened and closed for a minute—confusion all over her face. “You’re bluffing. You think I won’t do it.”
“I think it doesn’t matter if you do. Those photos don’t prove anything. They were sent to me like I bet they were sent to a whole lot of other people.”
She stiffened. “You’re lying. No one has those photos.”
“Of course they do.” I rolled my eyes. “Why do you think no one believes your lies about not pushing Annika off the cliff? Everyone knows, Gabriella. They’ve been laughing behind your back. Or at least they were until Giovanni was killed. It’s not so funny anymore.”
“That was you!”
“It wasn’t.” My voice was calm. “I had no reason to kill him. He came to me that night to give me what I’ve been waiting a long time for—the truth.”
“The truth about what?”
I didn’t reply.
“The truth about what!” she cried, erasing the distance.
“The truth about why you and Annika were so cool about watching your boyfriend seduce my sister. I mean, he and Annika clearly weren’t in an open relationship, or you wouldn’t have a battered face or her a busted head.” A vein popped in her forehead. “There had to be a reason neither of you did anything when he chased Winter down.”
She laughed. I never heard anything more forced. “There was a reason. I knew he was playing that slut for a fool, and I had too much fun watching. It was freaking hilarious and Annika was laughing too.”
I schooled my expression. “Was that it, or was it all”—I stuck my face in hers—“a dare?”
