“I was fine before,” she said. “Fine.”

The party grew louder. People were shouting and whooping inside. Sounds of glass shattering.

“But you want to let it loose again.” He moved still closer. She tried to take a step away, but her back was pressed against that tree. “We both know how it was between us.”

“I can’t. I…”

His breath was getting in her face. He was so close, she could bend her head and kiss that freckle. Or she could kiss his mouth.

“Hey, Genevieve!” Monteray’s voice, from the party house. He was leaning out of a ground-floor window.

Zachari put a hand on her shoulder. “Him again. I want to speak to you alone, Genevieve.”

“You coming in?” called Monteray.

“Yes, I’ll be right there.”

Zachari frowned. “Be careful of him. Meet me tomorrow afternoon. The Jardins du Luxembourg.”

“Is that man bothering you, Genevieve?” shouted Monteray.

“Two o’clock,” said Zachari. “I’ll be by the Cyclops at the Fontaine de Médicis.”

“I don’t think so.” Genevieve wriggled her shoulder free of his hand.

“Do you want me to come out and hit him?” Monteray again.

“No. I’m coming.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.” And Zachari was walking away, quickly.

“I wasn’t talking to you. You know that!”

“I’ll be waiting for you.” He tossed the words back over his shoulder.

Inside the mansion, a jazz ensemble—now joined by the musicians who’d been down by the barge—was letting rip in the grand salon. The room was hung all over with African and Egyptian artifacts. Palm trees grew in china pots. Creepers twined around gaudy marble pillars. Wall murals showed Egyptian gods, and a golden statue of a pharaoh might easily have been imported straight from Tutankhamun’s tomb. The crowd, mostly wearing masks, were dancing a Charleston.

“You want to dance?” asked Monteray.

“Not just now.” Genevieve was still shaky. “Have you seen Lulu?”

“Nope. How about we have a nose around this joint?”

“I don’t know. I might go home.”

“Ah, come on.” He bent to whisper in her ear. “Aren’t you even slightly curious about this place?”

“Well…”

He put one hand on the small of her back and propelled her out the doorway into the hall. “You know what I always say? ‘The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.’”

“Wasn’t it Oscar Wilde who said that?”

“Clever girl,” said Monteray. “Come on. Perhaps we’ll find Lulu.”

As Genevieve led the way up the sweeping oak staircase, she realized again just how drunk she was. There seemed to be more and more stairs every time she looked up. An impossible number of them. It was like climbing a mountain.