We’ll all come to Valle de Bravo to watch your little performance fall apart.”

Samuel stepped up on my right, his thin black leather binder under his arm.

“A headcount of thirty-two guests is formally noted, Doña Victoria,” Samuel said with quiet authority.

A long, gleaming black luxury sedan pulled smoothly up to the red curb right in front of the plaza steps.

The driver, in a dark uniform and polished cap, got out onto the sidewalk.

He walked straight past Alejandro and Doña Victoria, stopped two feet in front of me, and gave a crisp, respectful bow.