“I don’t know.” I bit my lip, still looking at him. He was impossible to look away from. “I can’t help but think you want me, like actually want me, and I don’t understand why.”
“Come.” He offered me his hand. I looked at it for a moment before taking it and letting him lead me back into the party.
The moment we stepped away from the hallway, music blasted us. It was jarring. I looked around quickly, looked behind us, looked forward. Had it been playing all along? It was lively, a Cuban Son, to be exact. I only knew it because back in the day, we used to island hop—a little bachata in Dominican Republic, a little salsa in Puerto Rico, and a little Son in Cuba. Hearing it reminded me of my parents and thinking of them made me sad again, grief rolling through me like a wave. I thought of Wela, who said this was a celebration of life and that my father dying this week was a great honor. Of course, she’d meant Carnival back on Pan. I highly doubted she’d approve of my being here in Dolos, in the Caliban Manor, of all places.
“River,” a man with a British accent called out, walking toward us quickly. He was handsome, of Indian decent, with a full beard that covered most of his olive skin. He had wise brown eyes and I knew instantly he wanted to make some kind of sales pitch. “I’ve been looking for you. We still haven’t discussed the yachts.”
“Right.” River gave a nod. “Dev, this is Penelope. Penelope, this is Dev, an associate of mine.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Penelope.” Dev took my hand and pulled me to him, kissing me on either cheek. When he pulled away he gave me a once-over. “I know I don’t usually meddle in your personal life, but this one is a keeper, River.”
“I completely agree with you for once.” River’s hand squeezed mine as he looked at me. I felt my heart skip one beat too many.
“Shall we talk business? It’ll only take a moment,” Dev said.
“I’m okay. I should go find my friends anyway,” I said to River before looking over at Dev. “It was nice to meet you, Dev.”
“Pleasure was all mine.” He bowed slightly as I started to let go of River’s hand and walk away.
River held on to my hand and pulled me back to him, making my chest crash against his. “Don’t go into the white room.”
“Why not? Is that where the orgies take place?” I smiled at his scowl. “Maybe I’ll change my mind and decide to partake in something illicit after all.”
“Please don’t go in there.” The plea in his eyes was enough to make me yield any warning from him, so I simply nodded slowly.
“I won’t.”
He let go of my arm and turned his attention back to Dev as I walked away and spotted Dee and the rest of my friends.
“This party is amazing,” she said, setting down her empty glass on a tray walking by.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Not much.”
“Alcohol hits differently here,” Martín said.
“You said that about Pan.” I eyed him, his glass, and then Jose and his date’s.
“Yeah, well, it hits even harder here,” Martín said, his words slurred. “You haven’t uploaded any more pictures.”
“I will soon. I have to edit them. I just took them this morning.”
“I’m going back into the white room,” Jose said, grabbing his date’s hand.
“What’s going on in that room?”
“Orgies,” Dee said. “Gay, straight, whatever. It’s interesting.”
“You went in there?” My head whipped back to her.
“Just to watch. Martín doesn’t want to take his clothes off here.” She rolled her eyes.
“I’m wearing an Oscar de la Renta tux. One of a kind. I don’t know who will see it and take it,” he said. “The man is dead. It’s not like he can make me another.”
“That is actually totally understandable.” I shrugged a shoulder.
“Who designed the dress you’re wearing?” Dee asked, taking it in again. “It’s so gorgeous and it looks like it was made for you.”
“Carolina Herrera.”
“Wow,” Dee whispered, reaching out and touching the silk fabric. “Just wow.”
“Yours is beautiful too.” I smiled.
“Jenny Polanco.” She winked. “We met Sarah Caliban earlier. She’s wearing a Polanco piece as well.”
“What’d you think?” I looked between Dee and Martín.
“Honestly? It’s creepy after knowing the story,” Martín said.
“They both look way too young for their age,” Dee added. “Do you think they’re vampires?”
“Vampires?” I laughed, then sobered up. I couldn’t take any more magic talk. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Kind of. I mean, this house is so dark, only lit by gas lamps like we’re in the 1920s, and they’re so young-looking. How else do you explain it?”
“I can’t.” I shrugged.
“They’re rich,” Martín said. “Not rich like us, rich like point eight percent of the world rich. I think they do look their age, but they’re devoid of the stress that others would have, so their skin is less wrinkled.”