I get out of the cool, scented limo air into the fiery heat of LA’s sun. Standing on the wide driveway, I look up at Miss Honeywell’s ginormous white mansion. Wow! What a place. It’s more like a palace than a house. I’ve never been inside such a majestic building.

The driver closes the door and indicates that I should walk up the steps to the house. I ring the doorbell, suck in a breath of scorching air, and straighten my spine. One of the tall double doors opens and cool air-conditioned air pours out. The round, middle-aged, Mexican-looking woman standing at the entrance widens her eyes in surprise at the sight of me.

“Santa Maria, you’re prettier than her,” she cries gaily.

Slightly embarrassed, I smile politely. “Hello, I’m here for my meeting with Ms. Nora Moore.”

She moves back to allow me access into the house. Above us, there is a massive chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling, and beneath my shoes, the granite floor gleams like a mirror. A few yards in front of me is a sweeping, white marble staircase. Amazing. All this to accommodate just one person.

“Come in, chica. Ms. Moore is not here yet, and Miss Honeywell has company, but she asked me to take you up to her when you arrive.”

I take a small step forward. “Company?”

“A man,” she stage-whispers. “And I should warn you that she’s been drinking.”

“It’s ten o’clock in the morning,” I blurt out.

“Miss Honeywell likes bubbles for breakfast, but today she’s had a bit more than usual, so be careful,” she confides.

A chill runs up my spine. “Is she…drunk?”

“A little bit.” She smiles apologetically.

“Do you think she’ll remember that I’m supposed to be here?”

She rolls her eyes heavenward. “God only knows. But don’t worry. Ms. Moore will remember and she’ll be here soon.”

“Well, shouldn’t I just sit somewhere and wait for Ms. Moore to arrive then?” It seems like the most logical solution to me.

She ushers me further into the house. “No, no, my orders are to take you up as soon as you arrive.”

I hang back. “But don’t you think it will be better if we just wait for Mrs. Moore?”

“Do you want me to lose my head?” she cries dramatically.

My mouth drops open. “What?”

She laughs uproariously. “I was joking, chica. This is a madhouse you have come to and without a sense of humor, you won’t survive it.”

I stare at her.

Her face suddenly becomes serious. “What’s your name again?”

“Cass Harper.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks. If you agree with everything she says and treat her like a princess, there should be no problem.” She shrugs. “After all, you only have to deal with her for a month.”

“Okay,” I agree with a nod.

She puts her foot on the first step of the marvelous white staircase. “Don’t take her insults to heart. She belittles people to seem superior to everyone, but you’re a very beautiful young lady. Don’t let her bring you down.”

“All right,” I mumble, reluctantly following her up the stairs.

“You need anything at all, you come and see Maria, okay?”

I nod again, glad to have found a friend in that vast, cold house. “Thank you.”

She grins widely. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“How do you do it?” I ask. I can’t imagine that her job is simple, especially working for such an egotistical rich girl.

“Chica, I have two boys at home. They need a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. Miss Honeywell’s father pays better than anyone else. Once you learn to be lower than her, it gets easier,” she explains gently.

She leads me down a large landing toward a gilded door. I’m not sure if I’m nervous to meet Tamara Honeywell because she’s drunk, or because of what I know about her, but either way, I’m not looking forward to meeting her. A door is slightly ajar at the end of the hallway and there are strange grunting noises coming from inside the room. Maria stops outside it.

“Good luck, dear,” she says, patting me on my back.

I push the door fully open, walk into a pink and gold room, and come to a complete standstill.

What the…