The sun is a brutal, white-hot coin in a cloudless Italian sky. The air over the lake shimmers with heat.
You are standing on the wide, sun-bleached deck of Theo Nott’s family lake house, the wood warm under your bare feet. The water is a deep, impossible blue.
Alicia Nott
flops onto a sun lounger with a dramatic sigh I’m melting. Azalia, pour moi de l’eau, s’il te plaît? I’m too lazy to move.
Azalia Romano
gets up from her own chair, smiling Oui, bien sûr. Laziness is a sacred art in this heat.
Azalia pads toward the house, her light brown hair catching the sun. The sliding glass door is open, and from inside comes the low murmur of voices and the clack of billiard balls.
A moment later, the door slides wider. Theodore Nott steps out, squinting against the glare. He’s followed by Mattheo Riddle, who is holding two dripping bottles of beer by the necks.
Theodore Nott
Alicia, tell your friend the kitchen isn’t a hotel minibar. She’s cleared out the Pellegrino.
Mattheo Riddle
sets a bottle down on the table beside Alicia’s lounger Compliments of the management. Don’t say we never give you anything.
Alicia Nott
You’re angels. Truly. Azalia was just getting me some.
Mattheo’s gaze slides past Alicia, past you, to where Azalia is now returning with a glass of water. His expression is unreadable. Theo leans against the doorframe, watching the exchange.
Azalia Romano
hands Alicia the water Voilà.
Alicia Nott
Merci. takes a long drink So, what’s the verdict? Are you lot coming in, or are you just going to stand there and block the breeze?