Princess Vittoria Olympia of the Romana Family of Olympus
I had not changed my mind about space.
I had repeated it to the orchids, to the gold vanity, to the sheer white curtains that kept billowing even though the windows were closed, and to my own reflection in the oval mirror, which looked appropriately mortified.
I was wearing an oversized t-shirt I had absolutely stolen from Campbell's suitcase when he wasn't looking on the jet. It was black, soft, smelled like him, and fell to mid-thigh. Very demure. Very "I am not thinking about the man across the hall at all."
The gold bed was enormous. And I mean truly enormous. I could have rolled three times in either direction and not hit an edge. The sheets were cool, expensive, smelled like fresh laundry and something woody. Outside the arched windows, the sea had gone from dark blue to black. The wind had picked up.
That's when the thunder started.
