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He disappears round the side of the house, and I’m left alone on the doorstep. I open the box and stare at the computer-chipped wristband, a tiny earpiece and a mask arranged on a bed of velvet.

Right, Keels, you’re definitely not in Kansas anymore.

I feel a little sick with nerves as I slide the wristband on and insert the earpiece. The mask is a bit big, but I look on the bright side—better a bigger fit than for it to be too small.

When I’m done, I look for a doorbell, but there isn’t one in sight. There’s no visible handle. I chew on my lip for a minute, then knock.

Five minutes later, I’m still standing on the doorstep. I check my phone on the off chance that Leo has realized I’m not by his side yet. There are no messages. I’m about to hit my home button when a Porsche roars up the driveway and skids to a halt, barely missing a column under the portico.

I pretend I’m checking my phone as a guy and girl about my age approach the door. They’re wearing masks and earpieces too. The guy looks me over and smirks, before holding his wristband to a black box at the top right-hand corner of the door.

The box clicks and the door opens. He ushers his girlfriend in and eyes me over his shoulder.

“You coming?” he asks me.

“I… Yeah, sure.”

I start to walk in, but he plants himself in front of me. “Did you forget? You need to code in.” He points to the black box.

“Oh, of course. I was miles away.” I raise my wrist and I hear another click.

We walk into a stunning entryway with a statement-announcing sweeping staircase that rises from the middle and curves into two wide arcs. A guy in a tux holding a clipboard and a similar earpiece to the one I’m wearing approaches. “Names?”

“Jeeves,” says the guy who’s just entered.

“O,” his girlfriend supplies.

The guy with the clipboard traces a finger down his page and nods. “I have you both. Proceed to the east wing, please.”

The couple beam, and the guy smacks his girlfriend on the ass as they skip away.

Right, so clearly the east wing was the place to be.

I paste a cool smile on my face as he turns to me. “Name.”

“Keely Benson.”

Startled eyes widen as he stares at me. “Umm… did you just— Fuck, I don’t want yourrealname. I need your codename.”

I flush a humiliating red and I think about making one up, but he only needs to look on his list to catch me out in the lie. In the end, I go with the truth. “Sorry, I wasn’t given one. I’m actually here to see Leo—” I stop when I realize I’m probably not supposed to say Leo’s name either. “The host of the party invited me. He’s my… umm…”Friend? Date? BFF?I feel foolish, standing there, trying to explain a relationship that has so far only lived in my imagination. “Can you point me in the direction of where the host is, please?”

He shakes his head. “I need your name before I can grant you access to the wings.”

“Okay, just give me a minute.” I turn away, still drowning in humiliation, take out my phone and start tapping. The next moment, I’m texting air.

“Sorry, there are no phones allowed at the event.” He depresses the button that shuts down my phone before he slips it into a Ziploc-type bag and seals it with a padlock. He hands me the key. “It’ll be returned to you at 3a.m., when the event ends. Now, about the name…”

“You’ve just confiscated my only means of proving to you that I’m an invited guest. How else am I supposed to?—”

“Is there a problem here?”

My head snaps round at the familiar voice and my mouth drops open. “Prof—” I clamp my mouth shout at the last second, before I commit my third faux pas in three minutes.

What the hell is my psychology professor doing here? And dressed smartly in tailored slacks and a button-down shirt, unlike his normal jeans, sweater and casual jacket combo. He’s wearing a mask too, but since I’ve recognized him immediately and he’s making no attempt to deny knowing me, I’m getting the feeling the masks are a casual prop, not a serious attempt to disguise identities.

“Are we okay here?” he asks again.

“We’re just straightening out this guest’s identity.”