Eyes that are regarding me with barely masked disdain.

I become painfully aware of every wrinkle and crease in my travel outfit, and the airplane grease that’s probably making my nose shinier than a bacon strip. “Hi,” I smooth my hair down, and try to seem easy, breezy, and at home on a billion-dollar mansion terrace.

“You’re the mystery girl, I take it?” The woman keeps looking me up and down.

“That’s me,” I say brightly. “Callie Delgado, International Girl of Mystery.”

Blondie is not amused. Of course, her outfit is immaculate. Chic linen dress, just short enough to show off a pair of killer legs. Tasteful gold jewelry gleaming against her tanned skin. Not a blonde hair out of place. “I’m Georgia,” she says expectantly.

That’s it. That’s all she gives me. Georgia. As if I should recognize who she is based on first name alone, like Madonna or Prince. “Nice to meet you, Georgia. Are you a friend of the family or something?” I guess, just to be polite.

Those green eyes narrow. Clearly, that was not the answer Just Georgia with no last name was hoping for. “More than that,” she says with a little trill of laughter. “Dash and I go way back. We’re very close.”

“Oh. How nice for you.” I keep my smile bland, even though that was supposed to inspire some kind of jealous, insecure reaction from me. And maybe it would have, if I was Dash’s real girlfriend.

But since I’m just a decoy? I can say things like, “I’m guessing there are a lot of you.”

“Hmm?” Georgia frowns.

“Exes,” I say cheerfully. “Lord knows that man is a certified man-whore. Or should that be certifiable? Either way, I’m guessing he’s fucked half the women here today. Practice makes perfect, right? I guess that means I should be thanking you,” I add with a wink. “You know, for honing his skills.”

Georgia’s jaw drops.

“So nice meeting you!” I add, before she can reply. “Now, where is the food in this place?”

I turn to leave, pausing by the fountain to get my bearings. The next thing I know, something knocks into my shoulder from behind, making me stumble off-balance—right as that damn goat scampers through my legs. My arms windmill helplessly for a moment, but there’s no righting this ship.

I tumble into the fountain with a SPLASH.

Spluttering, I surface to find the entire party has gone silent, staring at me.

“I’m fine!” I wave, dying inside. I’m soaked through, and I can only imagine what I look like right now. Because if the looks of shock, delight, and plain victory (à la Georgia) being sent

in my direction are anything to go by, it’s not great, Bob.

“Ahem.”

Somebody clears her throat behind me, and I turn to find a regal-looking woman in a gorgeous—and completely dry—yellow silk outfit. She peers down her nose at me like I’m something the goat dragged in.

“You must be Dashford’s new… Friend.”