“It’s very good wine. I googled it and it’s $859 a bottle. And we’ve finished three bottles so far!” Rosemary giggled like a schoolgirl from the wing chair, where she sat with her restorative donkey milk facial maskfn1 on, soaking her feet in a wooden tub filled with a hot dark-brown liquid that smelled like Robitussin. A Korean masseuse in a pale pink smock stood behind Rosemary, kneading her shoulders forcefully with her sharp, bony elbows.

“Oww, oww, yes, right there!” Rosemary moaned.

Marian stopped dancing and grinned through her cracked twenty-four-karat gold foil hydrating mask. “Oh my God, we’re having the best slumber party spa night! Are you still hungry, Freddie? What did you have for dinner? There’s so much leftover Korean barbecue, you should have some.”

“Is there any kimchi?” Freddie asked.

“Of course.”

“Is it spicy? You know I can’t eat Korean barbecue unless there’s good kimchi to go with it.

“The kimchi is so spicy it will burn a hole in your pants, Freddie. There’s some leftover mandoo as well. I think Mary’s gone to bed already, but you can just stick some of the barbecue in the microwave for forty-five seconds and it will taste like it’s fresh off the broiler.”

“Forget about it.” Freddie plopped down on the sofa.

“Lazy boy! Here, come with me, I’ll do it for you,” Marian said, shuffling toward the kitchen with Freddie in tow.

Lucie felt a huge sense of relief as she saw them go. Now the only one left to get rid of was Rosemary. She needed to steel herself to confront Charlotte privately. She felt like her mind was spinning out of control with … what exactly? Shame? Desire? Contempt? She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she knew one thing—it was all Charlotte’s fault. She never would have inhaled George’s face outside the theater tonight if Charlotte hadn’t blabbed to Olivia about what happened at Villa Jovis, if Olivia hadn’t betrayed them all by showcasing the whole affair in her movie.

“How was the film?” Charlotte asked, as she took a careful nibble of chocolate truffle, not wanting to open her mouth too wide for fear of cracking her snail slime and bee venom mask.

“Funny you should ask, Charlotte. It turns out the movie was directed by your dear friend Olivia Lavistock,” Lucie said archly.

“OH-livia! That English girl who only wore black all week long in Capri?” Rosemary asked in surprise.

“The very one,” Lucie said mock cheerily.

“Really, they showed Olivia’s film? I wish I’d known, I would have come. Last thing I heard she was still editing it,” Charlotte mumbled through her mask, placing her feet into one of the wooden buckets as another attendant poured more of the mysterious hot brown liquid in.

Lucie was incensed. “You knew Olivia was making a film?”

“Of course. She’s been slaving away at it for the past two years,” Charlotte said.

“The film was shot two years ago?”

“Possibly more. Apparently the cinematographer was this Indian fellow who was an absolute nightmare to work with. He stole some of the footage and kept it hostage for a while.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know it by looking at the movie. The cinematography was spectacular, especially this one rather curious scene where the two main characters—a half-Indian girl and an Indian prince—make love in a castle tower in Italy while a sinister drone hovers above them and captures every moment of their lovemaking,” Lucie said as she glared into Charlotte’s eyes.

“A drone? Like the ones that were all over Issie’s wedding? He he he … how fun!” Rosemary laughed.

Charlotte’s jaw dropped and the snail slime began to crack around her mouth.

“Well, I think I’m going to have me some of that treacherously spicy kimchi,” Lucie said archly as she stormed out of the room, knowing Charlotte was bound to follow.

Sure enough, Charlotte, her face freshly washed, came into the kitchen a few minutes later and nonchalantly sidled up to the wooden counter where Freddie sat with Marian and Lucie, gobbling down his beef galbi as he recounted the movie to his mother.

“And then these Italian dudes are trying to blackmail the young maharajah with the drone footage! Meanwhile, there’s a dance sequence on the rooftop of a villa, where these pretty girls start twirling and whipping the shirtless buff Italian dudes with their long saris.”

Marian slapped her knee, howling with laughter.

“Lucie, if you aren’t going to eat, you should come with me. You’ve got to try this foot-soaking tub. It’s so relaxing,” Charlotte said gingerly.

Lucie got up from her barstool and marched Charlotte into the library, closing the door behind them tightly. “So thoughtful of you to suggest a relaxing soak, Charlotte. After all, I don’t think I’ll ever get to relax again once this film premieres next month at the Toronto International Film Festival.”

Charlotte sank down on the buttoned leather sofa. “I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe it!”

“Believe it. It’s all there in high definition!” Lucie seethed, as she sat in the club chair directly across from Charlotte, as though she were staging an interrogation. “How could you, Charlotte? How could you tell Olivia everything, after you made me swear never to breathe a word to anyone?”

“But I didn’t tell her!”

“What then, Olivia Lavistock is psychic?”

“I mean, I only told Olivia about the drone thing right after I’d discovered you and George at the villa. After you had both run off into the woods, I went back to the party in utter panic! I didn’t know what to do, I needed her help,” Charlotte sputtered.

“You told me you had told no one!”

“I haven’t told a soul since that night, I swear. The only person I confided in was Olivia, who I thought was my friend. How in the world was I supposed to know she would use it in her goddamn movie!”

“Well, clearly Olivia doesn’t have an ounce of imagination. She stole every bit of our story and put it in her film.”

“Oh my poor girl, I’m so sorry!”

Lucie snorted. “You always say that, but are you ever really sorry?”

Charlotte began to tear up. “I truly am! I’ll never speak to Olivia again!”

“Well, you shouldn’t have spoken to her in the first place.”

“What was she thinking?!” Charlotte moaned, shaking her head. “At least she made her characters Indian.”

Lucie rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s a fine example of cultural appropriation.”

“What I mean is, I don’t think anyone would ever link you and George to this film.”

“Anyone except the four hundred people who attended Issie’s wedding. Just think what Mordecai von Ephrussí’s going to say when he sees the film! You know he’ll see it!”

“Ugh, that insufferable toady!”

“And that’s not the worst of it, Charlotte! George was right there!”

“Christ Almighty, I forgot he was at the screening!”

“I had to sit through that god-awful movie with George on one side of me and Cecil on the other!”

Charlotte stared at Lucie fearfully. “What did George do?”