IN THE SAME DARK wash jeans and burgundy sweater, I follow Antonio toward the dining room. This one is less casual than the one we dined in last night, which now feels like a lifetime ago, but all the twists and turns that we take throughout the house makes me want to make note of possible exits. I feel like I'm in a fairytale castle with the sheer colossal size of the house, and not in a good way. After all, I get lost easily enough as it is.

"So, what is it that you want to give me?" I say as I scramble to keep up with Antonio's quick, long-legged strides. He's almost a blur of grey in his dark charcoal suit, far too formally dressed for this early in the morning. Although my feet still ache from last night, I wish for a pair of Louboutins just so I could look him in the eye. But I left the high heels he gave me back home in the closet of my childhood bedroom, sitting there to gather dust.

"It's a surprise," he says, tilting his head down to look at me. A hint of a mischievous smile dances across his face and he seems a lot more relaxed today than he was last night. Did something happen to trigger this change in him, or am I just getting to know him better? "Trust me, I think you'll like it."

"Okay," I say, taken aback by the almost childlike glee that seems to wrap around him as we enter the smaller dining room. White curtains are held back with gold tassels, to reveal a view of the deep blue lake, framed by rolling hills. In the sunlight, its surface glimmers and sparkles, as though winking at me. "Wow, what a view."

"My father said it reminded him of Lake Como," Antonio says, though the scoff that follows suggests some hidden meaning. "Of course, it's not like he grew up by there."

"Doesn't George Clooney live there?" I say, finding the only scrap of information I know about the place. Wow. So cultured, Christina. "I mean..."

"You would be correct." Antonio nods, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth and making him look amused by my question as he pulls out a wooden chair for me. I sit down and thank him, trying to ignore the brush of his hands against my neck as he pulls them away.

Glancing around to ignore the slight touch, I notice that the design of this dining room is more rustic than the one from last night, boho-chic with sunlight pouring through the windows and seashell art on the walls. It makes me wonder if they have a different decorator for every room or something. Who knows what rich people do, regardless of whether they earned their money legitimately or not?

A dish underneath a silver dome is already on the round table, which is draped with a white cloth. Antonio lifts the lid, reminding me of a magician about to release doves from a top hat or something, and beneath it is a platter of pain au chocolat, making my eyes light up. I haven't had one of these in years. "I love those!"

His smile is almost boyish, bashful as he takes one of the pastries with a pair of tongs and sets it on my plate. The small bouquet of daisies on the table reminds me of the roses he brought me on our very first date, making me feel like we're on a repeat of that. "Good to know. What's your favourite colour?"

I tilt my head to the side and pick up the pastry, trying to understand his sudden change of subject. "It's black. Why?"

"Unusual choice. And, to answer your question, I'm just trying to get to know you better," Antonio says, taking a bite of the flaky pain au chocolat. "Hmm. I can see why you like these."

We eat in silence for a few moments, watching as the sun rises fully over the lake, casting warm rays onto the glittering water. Why does he want to know my favourite colour? A snide remark comes to mind. Don't you know already, considering you were stalking me before we ever met?

Footsteps echo down the hall and I swallow a golden, buttery piece of pastry as I snap my head around to see Allie and Bianca walking side by side, laughing. Bianca's son, Tony, is swinging between them, hanging onto his aunt and mother's hands. His mom hauls him into a high chair and straps him snugly in so he can't fall out and hurt himself.

"So, you're Christina, right?" Bianca says with a warm smile as she comes back from the kitchen with a bib that she fits around Tony's neck. "How have you been since we last met?"

Considering we last met when we were escaping this house and windows were being broken left, right, and centre, I think I'm better. Or maybe worse, when I consider my ransacked apartment. Who knows, at this point. "I've been alright. Getting by."

"Glad to hear it. This life isn't the easiest." A shadow covers her face when a cloud drifts over the sun outside, slightly dimming her smile. Then Tony does something to catch her attention and she pivots to tend to him.

Allie and Antonio launch into a lively conversation that leaves me feeling like a third wheel. Or, in this case, a fifth wheel. I finish my food quickly and excuse myself to go to the restroom. It's all marble floors, gold faucets and spigots topped with crystals, another display of wealth and opulence. Even their bathroom feels cold. I wash my hands and stare at my reflection. Puffy eyes from sleeping too late--from falling asleep on Antonio's shoulder, I remember and correct myself with a wince--and slightly frizzy hair. I pinch my cheeks to add some colour and find a tube of red lipstick that I swipe on. That's better.

Just as I turn to leave, I bump into someone coming in. My breath catches in my throat as panic surges through me. It's the belle of the ball last night: Lucia. I quickly duck my head, trying to sidestep her but she catches my arm.

"Excuse me," I say, a hint of an edge coming into my tone. Why is she touching me, a complete stranger to her? Is she going to kill me? Panic spirals through my thoughts and I bite down on my lower lip to stop the anxiety from going further. "I'll let you pass."

"Not so fast. You're Christina Martell, right?" She's intimidatingly pretty and vaguely familiar to me, with strawberry-blonde hair tied in a perky ponytail. "I'm Lucia Esposito."

"I know," I say as she drops her hand, before realizing it makes me sound like a stalker. "I mean, you're kind of a big deal around here."

"I'm not interested in Antonio if that's what's causing your hostility," she says quickly, her words coming out in a rush. "Just to get that out of the way. He's not my type."

He's not her type? I have difficulty wrapping my mind around that, but I try to accept it as true anyway. "Okay, so was there something you wanted to say to me, in this bathroom?"

"You're Lucas Black's girlfriend," she blurts out. Then, when I don't say anything, she adds, "Or am I wrong...?"

"He's actually my ex-boyfriend because I found a naked stripper in his bed," I clarify. Then, my mouth drops open when I give her a once-over. "Wait a second, you were the--"

"Stripper?" she says, a too-sunny, sickly saccharine smile and a toss of her ponytail. "Yep, that's me."

I don't know what to feel, with her staring back at me. All this time, I've clung to my bitterness and hatred and sense of righteous revenge that was never really righteous at all. I wanted to make Lucas suffer. I wanted her to suffer. But now, looking at this blonde, petite girl who barely looks old enough to drink, let alone work as a stripper, I don't feel any of those things. All I feel is... I don't know. But it's not angry. I guess I just stopped caring about Lucas Black. It is a liberating thought.

"Nice to meet you properly, I guess." I extend a hand for her to shake.

She takes it and looks down at my fingers like I might be holding a knife, or a gun, or a bomb. "Nice... to... meet you... too?"

I notice that her fingernails are painted pink but chipping. Barbie-pink, hot-pink, the colour I always hated as a child and now begrudgingly like. Then, Lucia places her hands on her hips, surveying me. "You know, you're pretty different from the other girls I usually meet around here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I purse my lips, dabbing at any smears of lipstick with a Kleenex.

"It's a good thing, Christina. Most girls would probably be, I don't know, thinking of ways to kill me and bury my body if they found me in their boyfriends' beds, let alone naked." Lucia laughs. "I really am sorry about that, by the way. Lucas never laid a hand on me, before or after you guys broke up. I was staying in his apartment because I was on the run from the Cavalli's."

I nod, trying to absorb the knowledge she's just imparted onto me. How strange it is when something you hold true for so long turns out to be false. It's not just having the rug pulled out from under you. It's like getting glasses when for so long, you thought the world was just supposed to be that blurry.

"Thank you for telling me that. You really didn't have to... I guess I forgave the two of you a long time ago," I say, throwing the Kleenex in the trash.

A pounding sounds at the door accompanied by a loud female voice, alerting us both to look up. It sounds like Allie. "Christina, my brother says to get your butt out here or he'll be leaving without you to the meeting!"

I chuckle. "Would he really use those exact words?"

Lucia grins back at me. "Probably not." Then she flings the bathroom door open, knocking back a startled Adelina. "But don't let me keep you!"