My breath hitched in my chest.
I heard Severin's amused voice.
"Consider it punishment for those little threats… Remember—no one talks to me like that."
After a beat, he added, almost bored,
"Tell him to search your name on the VIP guest list."
Both bodyguards started towards me. The bald one reached behind his back. I straightened and said, clear and firm,
"Do you have any idea what you're doing? Check the VIP list. Do I look like an ordinary guest?"
They halted. The bald man cut a glance at his partner, took the iPad from him, and began scrolling.
The one facing me kept his eyes on mine—bright, dangerous. I could hear my damned heartbeat, loud as a ticking bomb.
A moment later the shaved-headed guard stared at the screen, then said, regret in his voice,
"My apologies for the delay, ma'am… our mistake."
I forced a crooked smile and finally let the trapped breath out.
My guard dipped his head to peek at the iPad, looked shocked, then nodded at me to pass, apologising again as he gestured me through. As he signalled for one of the suited men to escort me, he began,
"About your driver…"
"It doesn't matter anymore," I cut in, sharp. "I'll deal with him later."
I wasn't sure whether to be angry or laugh at Severin's brand of madness. The man was insane—truly.
I'd heard that some geniuses, too bright for their own skulls, drift slowly into madness. Apparently, that wasn't just an internet myth.
Severin's laugh curled in my ear.
"I put you on the VIP list, so… don't sulk. It's not a good look."
"Just shut up," I murmured, slipping across the flagstoned entrance.
With a nod from the young bodyguard at my side, I left the garden gate behind.
Past white columns, I lifted my gaze. The mansion's entrance rose ahead of me, flanked by white Greek statues—bare women and men, their marble bodies gleaming under chandeliers that seemed to hang from the sky.
A man by the pool played the piano. Around him, women in sheer, Roman-style white dresses drifted like ballet ghosts.
Guests gathered with raised glasses, watching the pianist, smiling. The house itself was all white, glowing in the night beneath the garden lights.
We walked beneath four vast pillars; stone angels sat along the way with folded wings.
I followed the black-suited guard inside. Cool air and a bright, expensive perfume washed over my face.
The lighting was low. Around the room, artefacts sat in glass cubes—old, priceless, on display.
The ceiling soared. On the white plasterwork, women and children were painted in gold and blue and white.
The chandeliers hung long and grand. Guests in masks and brilliant clothes clustered across the floor.
Along the rails that led to the glass displays, girls—who seemed otherwise naked—danced, their whole bodies painted in gold.
A band stood on a stone dais to the left: a cellist, several violins, and a black piano nearby.
The young guard signalled to a girl in a short gold dress and a peacock-feathered blue mask. She came at once, friendly, slid my fur from my shoulders, and guided me to the right.
I followed. I could feel the weight of their looks on me. On the dress.
Severin's voice again:
"Now do you see why I told you to wear that dress?"
I didn't want to admit it, but he was right. The guests were lavishly dressed, every look expensive—yet my dress still drew the eye. No wonder he'd insisted on something this costly. To get into a place like this, you have to pass for one of them.
We stopped beside a table and, when asked about drinks, I only wanted water.
After she left, I studied the glass cases, scanning the pieces inside. I was hunting for a painting—the reason I'd stepped into this party at all.
When the girl returned, I took a glass from her gold tray. She nodded, smiling, and moved on.
The music couldn't drown the raucous, filthy laughter of the guests.