The music changes, and couples move onto the floor, spinning in perfect synchronization. The women smile as they're led. The men hold them close.
Thankfully, Maxim doesn't dance. He just watches.
After what feels like hours, he leans down and speaks in my ear. "Come with me."
I blink, pulled back into my body.
He leads me to a spot near the edge of the room, beside a marble column. A safe, out-of-the-way place where I can stand and be forgotten.
"Do not move," he says, his voice low. "Do not speak to anyone. Understood?"
"Yes."
He leaves, weaving through the crowd toward a cluster of men near the far windows. One of them I recognize, another Russian politician. They shake hands, and Maxim leans in, speaking quietly.
I stand by the column, warm champagne glass still in hand, and wait.
A woman walks past me and nods. Her eyes are empty and hollow. I doubt she even really sees me.
Another woman stands across the room, older, maybe thirty, with dark hair, and she stares at the floor, probably told to stay still like me.
The music shifts again to something faster and more upbeat.
I close my eyes and will the pill to have a bigger effect on me than it normally does.
Suddenly, I'm startled as Maxim grabs my elbow and jerks me back to reality.
"We're leaving," he says.
I blink, disoriented. The hall is still full. The party is still going.
"Now," he adds, sharper this time.
He pulls me toward the staircase, moving quickly, his grip firm. I stumble slightly in my heels, but he doesn't slow. We climb the stairs, passing other guests who barely glance our way.
The hallway upstairs is quieter and emptier.
He stops outside our suite, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking the door. He pushes it open and shoves me inside, making me tumble and fall to my knees.
"You'll stay here," he orders. "Do not open the door, and do not make noise."
I turn to look at him, but he's already stepping back into the hall.
"Maxim."
"Quiet," he says, and slams the door, locking it.
I sit on the floor of the suite, staring at the door, processing what just happened.
I kick off my heels, stand up, and move toward the corner of the room, the darkest one, away from the windows and the light.
I sink down, pulling my knees to my chest, and wrap my arms around them. This is one of the few things I still do that started when they took me. I find a corner and sit, holding myself. It's as if I can pretend I'm safe, or that I'm anywhere other than where I am.
I close my eyes.
The pill is just starting to do the thing I hate, wear off.
I can feel it. I can't explain it, but the edges of my thoughts start to sharpen. It's like when you can't remember the name of an actor or band, and it bugs you, and then suddenly it comes to you effortlessly.