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or not, she’s the goodwill ambassador in that bunch. Kota went overboard with security.”
    â€œThreats?” A fact of celebrity life.
    â€œJust the usual whackos. No, this whole security blitz is about keeping the press out.”
    Nausea rolled through Chris’s gut. “That seems extreme.”
    â€œKota’s an extreme kind of guy.” Em took her arm. “Come on, let’s move before anyone notices you’re here.”
    Chris turned to stone. “What do you mean?” Were they on to her already? Was Nurse Ratched locking down the estate, preparing to stuff Chris in a trunk for a trip to the tar pits?
    â€œWhat I mean,” Em said with a grin, “is that you’re the hottest ticket at this party. You stole the show today. Everyone wants to meet you.”
    â€œOh, if that’s all.” Whew.
    Em poked her chin at the pool table. “When that breaks up, they’ll spot you. I’m sure you’ve been mobbed by fans before, but nobody does it like the Hollywood set.”
    That wasn’t good either. There was always a chance, slim but real, that someone in the crowd knew her backstory. She needed to check on Zach and get out before her cover was blown.
    â€œHave you seen my father?”
    â€œHe’s out by the pool. I’ll take you.”
    Em led her across the hallway into a dim room lined with bookshelves—­ Dakota Rain has a library ?—­then out through French doors into a rose garden, blooming lavishly.
    â€œWow.” The heady scent hung on the moist evening air. But the benches were empty. “I’m surprised no one’s out here.”
    â€œKota made this for Verna. He keeps it private.” Em nudged her along a path that followed the line of the house. “You might’ve noticed I used a palm plate to get into the library. That’s off limits too. Kota’s all about privacy.”
    Chris glanced back at the house, at the wings stretching ahead and behind. She was no stranger to wealth. Zach had millions, and she was well off herself. But Dakota was in another league. “How many rooms?”
    â€œI’m not really sure. It’s got all the usual stuff—­solarium, gallery, theater, blah blah. But Kota only uses a handful of rooms.” She shrugged. “I told him not to build this monster, but boys will be boys.”
    Ahead, the enormous terrace surrounding the lake-­sized swimming pool was packed with partiers. Torchlight sparked off sequins and jewels. Waiters circulated with champagne. The bar was three deep. Chris scanned the faces for Zach’s, praying she wouldn’t spot a martini in his hand.
    â€œDon’t worry,” said Em. “We’ve got a man on him.”
    Chris’s head swung around. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œKota knows you’re worried about him, so he’s got a guy positioned to run interference if anyone throws temptation in his path.”
    â€œOh. That’s . . . nice?”
    Em shrugged. “Kota’s sensitive to addiction issues. He’s lost ­people. And he probably feels guilty, because if I know him—­and I do—­he used Zach to lure you here.”
    A lightbulb went on in Chris’s brain. The nerve.
    Em must have seen her eyes widen, because she shrugged again. “Yeah, he’s kind of a dick that way. But surprisingly thoughtful at the same time.” She checked her phone. “Zach’s about ten feet north of the grill.”
    She pointed past a stainless-­steel monster as long as a limo, manned by four men in chef’s hats. And there stood Zach, Pepsi in hand, bantering with the usual bevy of beauties.
    As so often before, Chris envied his ease. Zach knew exactly who he was, where he fit, while she was a square peg in a world of round holes.
    â€œHe looks okay,” she admitted. Which meant it was safe to ditch Christy Gray and get Christine Case on the first