STOLEN SMILE

CATERINA

"What is drama but life with the dull bits cut out."

-Alfred Hitchcock

†*****†

WHILE I CLIMBED OUT OF the pool, soaking wet, they stood a foot apart staring at one another.

Christian's lips tipped up as he brought his drink to his mouth, but his gaze never left Jenn's.

"Caterina! " Mamma gasped, running onto the patio. "What happened?" Everyone's eyes touched my skin through the glass, and it felt like I was on display at the zoo.

My teeth clenched. "I fell."

"Madonna! How much have you drunk?"

"Apparently more than I thought," I muttered.

Her hesitant gaze ran to Jennifer and Christian, who were the two most ungentlemanly people I'd ever met the former for pushing me into the pool, and the latter for not helping me out.

Grace came rushing outside with a towel, and Christian flicked a slow gaze to her over his glass, like the glance was equal parts involuntary and unwanted.

"Thank you," I mumbled, accepting it.

"I think I have something for you to wear." She grabbed the heels I'd pulled off so I could get out of the pool. I should have thrown them at Jennifer's head, but by that time I had the entire party's attention.

As I followed Grace inside, everyone stared at me with wide eyes- well, all the women. I expected the worst from my papà, but he wasn't even looking at me. His attention was on the two on the patio, his expression darkening.

My stomach dipped.

How many had seen that it was Jennifer who pushed me in? And why would she do something like that? I guessed Melgren did what they wanted when they wanted. Papà should have known from the beginning not to get involved with Jennifer.

I followed Grace into a room that looked like a spare, while drying my hair with a towel. She dug through a bag on the bed, and something twisted in my chest. Was she planning on spending the night? Ugh, why did I even care? Jennifer had pushed me into a damn pool. I didn't like her at all.

Grace found a pair of red shorts that had white trim on the edges and up the sides, and a plain white t-shirt. The outfit was from the seventies, right off Farrah Fawcett. I was beginning to wonder where Grace shopped.

I accepted the clothes and a sports bra— thankfully, Grace was close to the same size as me in the breast department—and turned around to change.

"Thank you. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I guess I'm just........clumsy."

Ugh.

Grace laughed. "You don't have to lie. I saw Ace push you in."

I paused with my dress around my waist while I pulled the t-shirt on.

"How many saw?"

"Oh, mostly everyone."

Of course they did. I blew out a breath, shimmied the dress down my hips, and then pulled the shorts on.

Turning around, I saw Grace lying on the bed, her feet on the floor and her arms stretched above her head. It was an unladylike pose the Sweet Abelli would have never imitated. And I envied her for it.

"Thank you for the clothes again," I said. "I'll wash them and return them to you."

"Keep them."

Silence morphed between us, and I had an urge to fill it.