The party is in full swing when I approach the top of the stairs that lead dramatically down into the villa’s ballroom. Waiters flank both sides, dressed in their trademark dark blue damask-patterned suits, though for tonight, they’ve added coordinating masks as well. One of them hurries toward me as I stop on the landing and look down at the crowd.

There’s power in anonymity. I don’t doubt the guests will place me soon enough, but for this first moment, in this dress and mask, I don’t fail to capture their attention. They’re enthralled, and I like it—the cool caress of eyes on me as I take the offered hand of the attendant and walk slowly down the stairs.

For once, I’m not alongside my grandmother. She arrived earlier, the guest of honor on Victor’s arm. I was still getting the finishing touches done to my hair and makeup when she left our shared rooms. She preferred it this way.

“That way you’ll make a real entrance.”

I lift my gaze and take in the crowd at the bottom of the stairs.

Every guest gathered there is staring up at me. People who’ve largely ignored me all week now seem unable to look away, to even blink.

It’s Victor who whirls into action, taking me from the attendant, spinning me around so that I’m forced to turn and show him every angle of my dress.

“You’ve done it, my dear. You’ve managed to capture the essence of an angel. Your grandmother told me about this dress and dear God, it does not disappoint. Turn just once more for me. Stu-nning.” He leans in for a double air kiss on my cheeks. “You’ve managed to make every other person in this room look like they pulled an outfit off the rack at Macy’s. Who is this? Valentino?”

“Dior.”

“Of course. Maria never misses. I’ll have to congratulate her on another showstopper. Would you like champagne?”

“Please.”

“Good. Come with me and I’ll parade you through the party so everyone can get an eyeful before that handsome fiancé of yours steals you away for the rest of the evening.”

“Oh, I—”

I’m not given the opportunity to correct his misunderstanding about the man I’m actually betrothed to because he’s found a group of people he’d like to chat with, and instead of loosening his grip on me so I can slink away, he keeps a firm hand on my arm.

“Have you all seen this dress?” he asks, thrusting me into the limelight.

They ooh and ahh, performing for Victor more than me.

“Lainey, it’s gorgeous,” Florence says. “Who designed it?”

Victor swoops in and answers her before I can.

“It needs to be sent to Dior’s archive after tonight!” another person comments.

“I’m sure that’s already been arranged,” Victor says with an air of impatience.

“How long did it take them to create this?”

“I—I’m not sure.”

“Weeks, I’ll bet,” the woman beside me says, picking up the top layer of tulle near my hip to inspect the embroidery. “This is all hand done. Wow. How were you able to secure a custom fitting like this?”