I directed my arrogant ass straight to Maria's designated room in the guest mansion while, back at the main house, my women were still locked in what had apparently escalated into a full-blown democratic circus about transportation.
No one but Maria was here.
The guest mansion was deliciously quiet, empty, all that pristine marble silence pressing in from every direction like it was waiting for something sinful to happen.
My women were still voting on whether we'd roll up to the Ghost Mansion in a single vehicle or each drive their own.
Some were saying that ARIA's new so-called Harem Van was too flashy, too conspicuous — basically a rolling neon billboard screaming "Look at us, peasants, we belong to a Dark Lord" before you even registered what the hell it was.
