“How far away will the car be parked?”

Linus shook his head. “If it’s parked 0.14 miles away, would that be close enough?”

“Yes.”

The car turned onto Texas Avenue and pulled up in front of the Wortham Theater Center, joining the line of other luxury vehicles dropping off their passengers, as if we all were elementary school kids. Night had fallen, but the entire street was bathed in bright electric light.

“All right, children,” Linus said. “We’re going to walk inside, mingle briefly, and be seated at our table. The ball will consist of five acts with twenty-minute intermissions. Dinner will be served in courses during the intermissions. It is customary to dance and socialize between the acts. Catalina, you’re going to find Cristal, and when an opportunity presents itself, become her best friend in the whole world. We need definitive proof of her involvement, the location of the facility, and an admission of guilt, if you can get it. Record everything she tells you. Alessandro, under no circumstances is Catalina to be harmed. Avoid violence, but if you have no choice, try to take care of it quietly. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said.

Count Sagredo didn’t dignify the question with an answer.

The Escalade slid to a stop. The usher opened my door and offered me his hand. I leaned on it and stepped out of the vehicle into the night.

A hundred and fifty feet of red carpet stretched across the narrow plaza, bordered by lush oaks and lit by globe streetlights. At the end of it, the glass entry archway glowed with golden light. People in evening attire strolled toward it, women in glittering gowns and men in suits, pausing at the topiary to have their pictures taken against the red-carpet backdrop. Onlookers waited on the edges of the path, eager for a glimpse of the rich and famous. A TV crew lurked in the distance, by the entrance, the correspondent interviewing the guests. Cameras flashed, ushers hurried back and forth, jewels sparkled on skin and hair . . .

The urge to crawl back into the Escalade gripped me.

I raised my chin. I wasn’t some Cinderella with a magic dress from my fairy godmother. I bought my own dress with money I earned, I bought my shoes and my bag, and nothing was going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight. I didn’t like this fake world of glamour and excess, but nobody had the right to question my presence here. I had a job to do, and I would do it.

Alessandro came around the car and offered me his arm again. A few heads turned our way.

Linus exited the Escalade. A subtle change came over the crowd. They didn’t exactly gape, but the Primes of Houston paused. Every single one of them knew Linus was there.

Linus flashed a thousand-watt smile. When he was young, he might have given Alessandro a run for his money. He waved at no one in particular, and the onlookers went wild.

Linus strode up the red carpet. We followed. Ahead, the TV crew realized that a Big Name Prime had landed, and the correspondent was desperately trying to wrap up her current interview.

Alessandro walked next to me, beautiful and slightly aloof, a prince just a touch above it all, while Linus grinned and played up to the crowd. Ahead, the walls of the Wortham Theater glowed with colored projections of acrobats and rings of fire. The Houston Opera Admiration Society was celebrating the opening of Madame Trapeze, a new hybrid show that blended elements of the circus and opera. It had sold out in London and New York, and somehow Houston was the next to get it. We wouldn’t be getting the entire performance, just a few chosen acts before the real thing was open to the general public, but it was exciting being one of the first people to see it.

A woman shrieked from the left, “Alessandro! Look at me!”

He turned without breaking his stride and winked. The group of girls on our left erupted.

“Oh my God!”

“Marry me!”

“Who’s the girl?”

“My number is 830 . . .”

We resumed our march toward the entrance.

“Enjoying yourself?” I murmured.

“Jealous?”

“Of your many admirers? No.”

“You never say anything nice to me,” he said, his voice low and slipping into an intimate tone that brushed against my skin like velvet. We were on display in front of hundreds of people and he was speaking to me as if we were about to make out in my bedroom. “It’s always ‘Stop driving so fast, Alessandro.’ ‘You have to leave, Alessandro.’”

“What would you rather hear?”

“I could think of a few things.” His face took on a wistful expression. It looked good on him. Like everything else. “I missed you, Alessandro.”

Why did I ask?

“Hold me, Alessandro.” His seductive voice wove around me. All my senses came to attention. The crowd was fading and only his voice mattered.

“Kiss me, Alessandro.”

Heat warmed my face. I was blushing. Damn it.

“Will you stop?”

We were almost to the TV crew. Maybe we could slip by them unnoticed while they pounced on Linus.

“Don’t go, Alessandro. Don’t stop, Alessandro . . .”

“Stop lying about who you are, Alessandro.”

His face shut down as if someone slammed a door closed. I hit a nerve. Good.

The correspondent pounced on Linus. Alessandro smoothly passed by him and we joined the throng of overdressed people walking through the wide-open glass doors. Nobody asked us for our invitations. Apparently just arriving with Linus Duncan was good enough.

Six armed security guards in black suits lined the sides of the short lobby. We passed through the arch of the metal detector, then the airport-style bio scanner, and took the escalator up.

The Grand Foyer had been transformed. An enormous wagon wheel chandelier supporting stage lamps hung suspended fifty feet in the air. Above it yards and yards of midnight-blue fabric stretched from the ceiling to the walls and dripped to the floor, imitating the inside of a big-top tent. Strings of golden lights curved from the chandelier to the sides of the room where the walls met the ceiling, glittering like summer stars against the night sky. Colored lamps tinted the fabric with splashes of lavender and turquoise. Soft music played from hidden speakers, a complex modern interpretation of the circus theme performed with a full orchestra.

A round stage dominated the center of the room, level with the floor, smooth, and shimmering with flecks of gold. Rings of round tables surrounded the stage, each covered with a golden tablecloth and set for ten.

A pair of tall metal golden supports towered on the opposite sides of the foyer. A high wire stretched between them. Two female acrobats twisted in the air, suspended by lengths of blue ribbons. To the left, on a small raised platform, a contortionist in a black bodysuit ripped in strategic places bent backward, touching his elbows to the floor. To the right an animal trainer strolled through the crowd, two lions in tow on absurdly thin silver chains. The lions followed him, oblivious of the onlookers. He had to be an animal mage.

The sights, the sounds, the colors, and the hum of the crowd combined into a fairy-tale opulent circus. Reality ceased to exist. If I turned, I could still catch a glimpse of it through the giant window, the dark winter street, but here only fantasy existed. I could wander through it for hours, making up stories and watching people.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, as the current of people carried us to the right.

“Eh.” Alessandro shrugged. “The Melbourne Christmas Gala was better.”

I punched him in the arm. I didn’t punch him hard, it was more of a tap, but his eyes sparked with orange. “Careful. I’m a bad man, remember? Who knows what I might do when provoked?”

“If you decide to get provoked, let me know, and I will bring you back to Earth with the rest of us mere mortals.”

He lifted his hand and a waiter appeared as if by magic, wearing a blue vest over a black shirt, black pants, and a red clown nose, and carrying a tray with champagne flutes. Alessandro took two glasses off the tray and held one out to me. “Champagne, tesoro mio?”

My tolerance for champagne was about two sips. Any more, and I lost coordination. If I finished two glasses, I would fall asleep in my chair. But he was holding it out to me and I didn’t want to cause a scene.

I took the flute and sipped. Linus materialized next to us. “Children, work now, bicker later. Follow me.”

We trailed him to a table in the outer row. We didn’t have the best view of the stage, but we had an excellent perspective of the room and the crowd. Alessandro held my chair out. I sat. Alessandro was a touch slow to take the chair next to me. I glanced in the direction of his gaze.