“Oh.” I had to keep her talking. I had to look around. I had to answer the most important question: Was Luna on this ship, too? “Can I go ahead and unpack while I wait for the guys to come back? I don’t want us to get behind schedule.”

She gave a curt nod but didn’t move from her position, holding the refrigerator door open with her butt.

“I’ve kind of followed Mr. Fairchild’s career,” I said, opening the box and taking out two wine bottles. “I’m curious—does his daughter live here with him?”

This time the woman frowned. “Mr. Fairchild’s daughter is . . . away,” she said.

“Vacation, huh?” I plowed on, acting clueless, even though my heart had dropped with disappointment. Luna wasn’t on this ship. Maybe Chris was right. She was in Dubai, living the life with her parents’ money. She was nice enough to set up her doting daddy before she left, so he could keep house with a hot young starlet. How kind of her.

The housekeeper mashed her lips together, then leaned in. She whispered, “She’s getting some rehabilitation.” She said the last word with great gravity.

“Drugs?” I whispered, playing along.

The housekeeper shrugged. “She’s had some difficulties in her past,” she said. “Could be drugs, I suppose. My impression is it was much worse.”

“I heard she was in jail,” I ventured, my spine tingling. If she figured out who I was—that I was the much worse she herself was referencing—I was toast.

The housekeeper twisted her hands in her old-timey apron. “I can’t say,” she finally said. “Mr. Fairchild has been very good to me. His family problems are none of my concern. I only know that he does not believe he will see her again.”

“Ever?” I asked.

“That’s how I understand it. He said it would be best for everyone if we just forget she exists. Can you imagine a father saying that about his own daughter?”

Shit. That proved it. Luna was gone. She’d run away and was never coming back. That should have made me happy. So why was I so enraged I wanted to start throwing these wine bottles against the walls of his posh little boat?

“No, I can’t,” I said absently.

There was a faraway knock. The housekeeper peered up the spiral stairs anxiously. “It’s probably the caterers coming back,” she said.

I smiled sweetly. “I’ll just finish up here, and if they don’t need me, I’ll let myself out.”