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Rachel Dennehy. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Jonathan.”
    He studied my hand for a moment before he finally placed his small hand in mine. His grip, however, was surprisingly strong. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Dennehy,” he greeted formally.
    He was such a little man that it nearly broke my heart. No wonder he was a discipline case. No one would allow him to be a child.
    No one, I decided, until now.
    “I noticed you had a pool out back,” I commented casually. “Cleo gave me some cookies and tea. I thought I’d have my snack poolside. Would you like to join me?”
    “That would be acceptable,” he said, giving me the sense that he really wanted to impress me with his Lord of the Manor routine. He turned to Harrison. “Please bring the cookies and tea out to the pool, Harrison.”
    I shook my head. “No need. I can carry them.”
    Jonathan’s blue eyes widened, as if he were confused by my refusal. He was speechless as he watched me walk into my room toward my desk, grab the plate and the glass, and return to where they stood in the hall.
    Harrison’s eyes darted between Jonathan and me, as if he were waiting for the tiny terror to come unglued at any moment. I, on the other hand, was completely composed as I gestured behind us toward the stairs. “After you.”
    I followed the boy down the stairs and through the kitchen toward the French doors leading outside. Sculpted topiaries stood on either side of the reflecting pool, which connected in a channel toward the hot tub and finally the Olympic-sized pool behind the iron gates. Chaise lounges were scattered in pairs on the brilliant green grass surrounding the concrete pool, so we headed through the solarium to a couple at the far end. A breezeway covered in fragrant wisteria separated two smaller houses in the same style of the main house, quite possibly servant quarters for either Harrison or Cleo. Jonathan affirmed my assessment with a curt nod.
    “Father likes to keep the house staff close,” he informed me as he snagged a cookie from the plate. “I see them more than I see my own family,” he stated matter-of-factly, which further tugged at my gut. What a lonely little boy.
    “I know that can be tough,” I said with such a sincere tone that he turned his head toward me.
    “Do you have family?” he wanted to know.
    I shook my head sadly. “Most had passed by the time I graduated college. And there’s no one else,” I concluded as I glanced away.
    Jonathan nodded , as if the answer didn’t surprise him. “Father probably wouldn’t hire you if you did,” he said as he glanced at the pool.
    It seemed like such an odd thing to say that I couldn’t help but probe. “Why is that?”
    Jonathan shrugged. “He just doesn’t,” he said, as if that were an answer in and of itself. Off my look he added, “He is very selective in who has access to the family. Both Cleo and Harrison were older when they came to work for us, so they could dedicate themselves to the family full-time. Father puts heavy emphasis on dedication and loyalty. Having commitments on the outside would interfere with that.”
    I chuckled. “You make it sound like a prison.”
    His eyes met mine. “It is.”
    Before I could pounce all over his raw comment, he forged ahead with his own questionnaire. “Where do you live?”
    “I’m from Texas,” I answered.
    “Would you miss it if you moved here?”
    I thought about that for a moment. “I’ve never lived anywhere else, so I wouldn’t know for sure until I did. But even if I missed it, I would keep my commitment to the job, if that is what you’re worried about.”
    His chin tipped defiantly. “I’m not. I’m used to people leaving.”
    God, this kid was killing me. He was way too young to be this heartbroken and this cynical. “I understand that.”
    He was skeptical as he met my gaze. “You do?”
    I nodded. “Yeah,” I said softly.
    He let the comment pass to continue his interrogation. “Do you