The glances between us are charged with silent desire; but as we sweep across the dancefloor at another grand party at le Château de Versailles, Arno leans in to whisper, “Not now, cherie. Wait for the fireworks.” By the time the dances are finished and the candles are dimmed, my body is almost screaming from wanting him; and as the partygoers gather in the garden, Arno has me anchored to the bed in an empty room, pounding into me, our cries of delight drowned out by the thundering fireworks.