The music in the venue shifted into something with a steady, driving rhythm, and the party expanded to fill the impossible dimensions of the room.
The initial shock of the shimmer and the cathedral-like architecture had settled, replaced by the particular kind of euphoria that came from realizing you were inside the most exclusive room in the universe. The groups that had arrived separately began to blur at the edges, mingling in ways that ignored the usual hierarchies of terrestrial power.
Evelyn, who managed the Bellemere Mansion staff, found herself in a deeply engaged conversation with Patricia, Harper's mother.
"I'm just saying," Patricia was saying, holding a glass of champagne, "for a boy who essentially commands the global economy, he dresses like he's running late for a morning lecture."
