“Besides, some rules are made to be broken,” he adds. “That’s what tonight is about. This way.” He ushers me into the kitchen, flicking a switch on an antique wall panel that illuminates the chandelier over a round dining table surrounded by wicker chairs. “Try to relax and have fun. Nobody will believe you’re my sister if you’re always so jittery around me.”

“To be clear, you do not make me jittery. It’s just my nature. But I will try to come off as your carefree, adoring sister.”

“Thank you.”

I tuck the contacts into my cargo pocket. “It’s so French in here,” I say, running my fingers over striped satin curtains that frame a leaded glass window.

“Yeah, my mom lived in Paris before my parents were married. She would’ve loved to stay there, but it wasn’t possible. Robie promised her a chateau if she came to Keystone, and here it is.”

We walk into a living area. In keeping with the streamlined Keystone aesthetic, the space is bright and light, with floor-to-ceiling windows that open to the woods, but that’s where the similarities end. The room is packed with stuff. One wall is lined entirely with books, and next to it a sculpted marble fireplace is flanked with intricate moldings. Gilded-framed paintings lean against ornate wooden tables and velvet couches. While examining the crystal chandelier twinkling overhead, I trip over a tassel on the rug and nearly collide with a vase painted with blue dragons and flowers, catching myself just in time.

“Good thing you didn’t break that one. It’s from the Qing dynasty,” Garrett says, ducking behind a claw-foot wet bar. “It’s worth millions.”

“Good thing,” I mutter. “Did your parents steal all of this?” I ask, picking up a jewel-encrusted brooch.

“Yep.” His voice sounds from behind the bar. “A K-12 protect-a-lok with tamper resistant screws. Too easy, Dad.”

My jaw drops. “But what about stealing for the fun of it? I thought it wasn’t about the stuff?”

He reappears with a bottle of vermouth in one hand and peach schnapps in the other. “Now you know my dirty secret: my parents like stuff. They just have interesting ways of getting it.”

Laughing, I relax, comforted that his parents have their own version of smoke and mirrors. “Literally what are you doing with those?” I point at the bottles.

He takes out two etched crystal glasses and adds ice to a shaker. “Truth-serum cocktails are served.”

“No, no, no.” I shake my head, watching him pour the schnapps.

“Ellie, we’re going to be in a situation where we have to party. We need to be able to stay in character and keep our secrets.”

I narrow my eyes. “I thought you wanted me to spill my secrets.”

“To me, yes. To Nicki, no. It’s good to have a tolerance and to know how to fake it.”