Page 62 of The Problem with Princes
He shrugs and the video zooms in slightly, but not enough to tell much.
“Is that as close as you can get?” I say, irritation filling my voice.
He nods. “Yes. These cameras aren’t very high-tech. They’re meant to deter stealing and vandalism.”
“If this were TV, we’d be able to read the manufacturer’s name on the hat’s tag,” I grumble.
Sander leans back in his seat. “Malak, continue tracing his path. We have enough to at least start an investigation into him.”
Malak nods and starts typing on his computer.
Sander pushes his chair out and stands. “Thank you, Miss Martindale. That didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I think we can handle it from here.”
I glance at the clock. I’ve been here nearly three hours. How much longer had he thought it would take?
I stand up and run my hands lightly down the front of my pants, my hands shaking slightly. It’s like I’ve just relived that moment all over again.
Sander must sense my change in mood, because he puts a hand on my arm. “I will see you are protected.”
I nod. “I know you will. Thanks, Sander.”
* * *
I pacethe length of my room, unable to sit down and relax.
A knock sounds at the door and I’m relieved that Tyrone is here to help take my mind off everything. Well, everything except for him. He is still a big part of my tension. Not him exactly. But rather the thought of leaving him and trying to figure out what exactly I am to him.
But it’s not Ty who enters my room. Instead, it’s Cora, carrying an armful of clothes. She deposits them in my open suitcase and dips a curtsy, before moving toward the door.
“Excuse me, what are those?” I point to my suitcase. Hadn’t I specifically told her to leave my laundry alone?
She looks at me like I’m slow witted. “They are your clothes, miss. I told you I would launder them. I am just returning them.”
I can see my underwear folded neatly on top of the stack. My face heats at the thought that this maid knows whether I wear boyshorts or thongs. I ball my hands at my side. “I told you, I’m capable of doing it myself.”
She looks nervously at me and then at the floor.
“I never said you could take my clothes.” I’m almost near tears, and I’m not exactly sure why.
Ty knocks on the door and walks in before I have a chance to say anything to him. Seriously? It’s like he has a sixth sense that tells him when I’m speaking with Cora.
He steps into the room and nods to the maid. She obviously takes it as permission to flee the room.
“I’m the one who told her to take your clothes.”
I put my fists on my hips. “And who gave you permission to do that? I specifically told her not to.”
He comes over and grasps my arms gently. “Grace, it’s her job.”
I shake my head. “No. Her job is to do your family’s laundry. Not mine.”
“No,” He shakes his head. “Her job is to attend to any guests of the palace.” He taps the end of my nose. “And that is you.”
“But—”
“Look at it this way,” he cuts me off. “What if you were never allowed to do any lobbying at your job? How would you like that? You would probably assume that your boss didn’t think you were capable. This is no different. It’s what she was hired to do, Gee. So let her do it.”
I blink up at him. Why did he say that about my job? Did he know that all I do is fetch coffee? I just nod at him. “There are more clothes in the bottom of the wardrobe that need to be washed.” I mumble, because even though I understand his explanation, I still don’t like the idea of someone else washing my unmentionables.
