"Not if I have you in the private jet with me." Ivy chuckled, grateful for the levity.
"Damn right." Trish grinned.
Before Ivy could respond, the butler appeared, impeccable in his dark suit and white gloves, his posture radiating the Kane estate's quiet authority.
"Miss Morales," the butler greeted Ivy with a polished bow. Then, with a gracious pivot, his sharp eyes landed on Trish. "Miss…?"
"Whyte." Trish supplied, flashing her most charming smile as if she'd just stepped onto a red carpet.
The butler gave a single, approving nod, clapping his hands once. A young maid materialized instantly from the hallway. She swept forward to receive their bags.
"Miss Whyte. Welcome," the butler continued. "I have a room prepared for you already to freshen up and dress. Your make-up artist will be arriving shortly. Mrs. Kane is personally overseeing the final stages of the meal preparations and insists that you should not trouble yourselves with a single detail."
