Stacy turned and took the napkin, beaming like she’d swallowed a light bulb. “Oh my god, thank you, thank you! You’re so amazing. Keep being you.” She scurried off, and Annika heard her say, “Oh my god, Ava, you’re never going to believe what just happened!”

Sighing, Annika walked through the living room, which was full of a cacophonous mixture of pulsing music and chattering, squealing, and laughing. She pushed past clusters of people who looked either über-techie, sadly underfed, alarmingly over-tanned, or completely wasted—sometimes all at the same time. No one gave her a second look. She’d lost sight of June a long time ago, and whoever the host was, they were not easy to find. Deciding she’d take a quick break in a quieter part of the house—if she could find one—Annika picked her way down a long hallway.

There were fewer people in this hallway, but still enough chatting together in tight clusters that Annika had to shove some of them out of the way before they’d step aside. She continued her path through the haze of perfume and cologne. Closed doors greeted her on either side, and the hallway dead-ended in a large pedestal, on which was poised a gorgeous, sinuous sculpture made of iridescent white stone.

At first Annika thought it was a teardrop, but then she noticed arms folded against a shapely torso, a neck bent with a head on the end like a dandelion at the end of its stalk, and realized she was looking at a sculpture of a woman. Gently, she ran her fingers over the cool stone, marveling at the craftsmanship.

Raucous laughter echoed behind her. She didn’t want to shove her way back through the crowds to go back to the living room, so on an impulse, she reached for the doorknob of the door closest to her and turned it. The heavy door swung silently inward. With a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was about to stop her or accuse her of being a thief, Annika stepped into the dark, cool, quiet room and shut the door behind her.

Ah. Blissful quiet.

She turned the light on, dimmed it, and looked around. It was an enormous bedroom, with a minimalist bed on a raised platform. The bed was fitted with taupe and black sheets and several overstuffed pillows. Three of the bedroom’s walls were glass; they looked out over the city and its breathtaking assortment of roads and skyscrapers and the red glow of brake lights, like a string of rubies on a necklace. Annika noticed more sculptures on the nightstand and dresser as well, which were smaller and more brightly colored than the one in the hallway, but similarly languid in style. They were mounted on wooden stands.