I scramble every corner of Quinn's kitchen. There's no food, plate, cup or even spoon. My stomach grumbles and I yawn on top of it.

The elevator opens and a muscular guy with a weather beat face steps in.

"Mr Nickel asked me to pick you up." He is direct with no formalities.

"Who are you?"

"His family driver and bodyguard." He stays at one position.

"Where is he?" I ask.

"He apologises, he had errands to run." Not a muscle on his face moves as he speaks.

"Alright, I will pick my bag."

"I will be waiting for ma'am." He says.

Ma'am? "Call me, Cara," I say as I...