The contract lay on the black desk in my father’s office. Adam sat in a modern sleek chair across from me. A foot rested on his opposite knee.

My father’s office was designed in the same color scheme as the rest of the house, but that was the only similarity. Where the rest of the house was decorated in a classic traditional in style, his office was sleek and modern. It smelled like sterilizer and metal. Chrome shelves lined the top half of the wall behind me and behind Adam. Books lined the shelves. To the right was a window. The black curtains with white stripes were pulled open. The view outside the window showed our tennis courts. An urge to play bubbled up inside and I thought about demanding Adam play with me.

Maybe tomorrow. Right now I needed to make a phone call.

I picked up the phone and dialed the police station. I’d brought my cell phone downstairs and noticed Eva and Cassidy had left messages.

Eva sent me a text: You didn’t screw Greg did you?

I wanted to roar with frustration. No! I texted back.

Well then what were you and him doing in the wine cellar? And where is he?

So dramatic. I didn’t answer.

Another text from Eva: ???

Getting wine. Duh. And I don’t know where he is. I couldn’t tell her that he was somehow in my phone and that he/she/it might be a ghost.

I turned off my cell. Then placed the office phone on speaker so Adam could hear.

“Salt Lake County police station,” a voice said.

I sat up. “Who do I need to speak to if I want to drop the charges against someone who was arrested?” My eyes roamed over the signed contract. Adam’s signature was in black. It was a series of loopy letters and chicken scratch. I could read the A, the H, and the X. Everything else was scribbles.

“Let me transfer you.”

I was put on hold for several minutes. While we waited, I glanced out the window. A bird was perched on the tennis net. I had the sudden urge to chase it.

“This is Officer Mack. How can I help you?”

I took a deep breath. “I’d like to drop the charges against Celeste Haddox.”

“Her last name is Simmons,” Adam said, leaning forward.

“I mean Celeste Simmons. I had her arrested yesterday, but have changed my mind.”

“I see. And your name?” His voice was laced with sarcasm.

I huffed. “I’m Beatrice Cavanaugh, Officer Mack. Just in case you didn’t know, my family donates tens of thousands of dollars to the police department’s annual charity events.”

The officer coughed. “And you want Celeste Simmons to be released?”

“Yes, I do. Right away.” I glanced at Adam. His face was still stoic.

“Very well, Miss Cavanaugh. She’ll be released immediately.”

“Thank you.” I hung up.

“I appreciate you doing that,” Adam said. Tension seemed to leave his shoulders and he rolled them back. “I’ve been so worried about her.”

“It’s done and now it’s time to go to work. You may want to take notes.”

“Right.” He sat back in his chair and took out a small notebook and clicked a pen.

I was impressed, but didn’t let it show. “Every morning you will do my hair and makeup. Sometimes, if I go to an event, it may need to be done more than once in the same day. You’ll need to drop off and pick up my dry cleaning. Drucinda is in charge of the laundry and Nelle is in charge of cleaning my rooms, but it will be your job to make sure it’s been done.” I paused and watched him write. “You can use any of the cars in the garages, except my yellow LaFerrari. That is off limits, no matter what.”

He nodded.

I opened the drawer, pulled out a black American Express card and slid it over to him. “Use that for purchases, for gas, and to pick up anything I ask for.” He picked it up and turned it back and forth. “Don’t even think about using it for anything personal. Understand?”

“Yes, Miss Cavanaugh.”

I stood and walked out of the office. He followed. “I’ll show you to your rooms.”

We went down the hall, through the large industrial kitchen. Everything was slate or stainless steel. There were no colors but gray, except in the windowsill where we allowed Mrs. Dotts to grow fresh herbs. Mrs. Dotts was cutting up cucumbers. She was still humming. “Lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes. It’s your favorite. Cucumber sandwiches.”

“As long as it’s accompanied by a steak, cooked rare—very rare—that’ll be fine.”

Mrs. Dotts frowned, wiping her hands on her apron and opening the refrigerator to retrieve a steak. “Very well.”

“Adam Haddox, this is Mrs. Dotts. She’s in charge of the kitchen. If you’re allergic to anything, or have special dietary needs, Mrs. Dotts is the person to talk to.”

“Hello, dear.” She smiled at Adam as she unwrapped the package of meat.

Adam didn’t smile, but nodded his hello.

“Would you like a steak as well, Adam?” Mrs. Dotts asked, eyeing the two T-bones on the butcher’s paper.

My mouth watered. “Adam will be massaging my feet while I eat. After that he’ll need to put away whatever stuff he brought. He can eat with the staff later.”

Mrs. Dotts’ smile fell. “Very good, Miss Cavanaugh.”

We went through the kitchen. “The garage is here.” I opened the door leading to the garage. My yellow LaFerrari was parked on the far end. I glanced up at Adam. “See that yellow car?”

“Of course.” Adam crossed his arms.

“That’s my LaFerrari and it’s off limits. Don’t even touch it.”

“I understand.” There was a catch in his voice, like he wanted to say something else. He didn’t.

“The rest of the cars are available for driving.” I watched his eyes check out each one. There were seven visible on this level and more underneath. Up top were my LaFerrari, a white Jaguar F-type R coupé, a silver Mercedes S65 AMG, a bing cherry red Lamborghini Veneno Roadster that resembled a modern version of the Bat Mobile, a cashmere colored Lexus LX, a green Range Rover Autobiography, and a black Lykan Hypersport. I overheard my father say he’d paid more than three million dollars for that last one and there were only seven made. He’d probably flip if he knew some random guy was driving it, but what did I care? He and my mom had left me for the entire summer without saying good-bye.

“Even that one,” Adam asked, pointing at the Lykan.

“Sure. Just get the keys from there.” I pointed at a key box on the wall. “Make sure the keys are put back immediately when you return. And never let any of the gas tanks get below half full.”

His eyes shone with unshed tears. Guys and cars—I didn’t understand it. Because the prospect of driving the Lykan seemed to make him so happy, I was tempted to tell him I changed my mind, just to hurt him. At the last second, I held my tongue.

We left the garage and made our way down into the basement. The stairs were wide and not very steep but they turned several times as we descended. The air grew cooler the deeper we went.

At the bottom of the stairs I pointed to the bathroom. “This is yours to use. Keep it clean.”

He nodded.

I opened the door to the bedroom. Isaac had done a nice job. The blankets and sheets were navy blue and white. There was a lamp on the nightstand, a computer on the small desk under the window over which was obscured by Navy curtains. That was probably for the best, since it was doubtful there was anything to see aside from the empty window well. A decent chair had been pushed under the desk. Next to the computer was a cell phone with a piece of paper under it. I picked up the paper. It listed the phone’s number. I quickly typed it into my cell. “So I can text or call at any time.”

He took the phone and flipped it over.

“This is my room?”

“Yes. It is.” I ran my fingers along the bedspread.

“Thank you.” He sat on the bed, bouncing.