Page 32 of The Thing About My Prince
“Not usually.” He strides into the room without being invited. “But I thought I should check with you that everything’s okay.”
Oliver makes a scoffing sound. “I wouldn’t exactly say?—”
I grab his hand exactly the way he grabbed mine earlier and squeeze it hard.
“Bit jet-lagged.” I step through the door. “Going to take a walk in these stunning gardens.”
And I pull Oliver after me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
OLIVER
“But we have people who sweep the place for things like bugs and make sure our phones aren’t hacked and all that shit.” My mind is a racing, whirling spiral as to how this could possibly have happened. “So how the hell did that thing get through?”
I hug myself and rub my arms. It’s pretty chilly, and in our hurry to get outside into a non-buggable environment, neither Lexi nor I grabbed a jacket.
“And who the hell would be bugging us anyway? It’s terrifying, no matter who it is. And what the hell do they think I’m going to be talking about in my bedroom that could possibly be of any use to anyone? I don’t know any government secrets. And how long has it been going on? Have I always been bugged and never known?”
Lexi places a calming hand on my shoulder. “I get that this is a shock. And a lot to process. But has it not crossed your mind that the call might be coming from inside the house?”
“What call? From whom?”
“You’ve never heard that phrase before? From the horror movie?”
I blink at her.
She groans at my lack of cinematic knowledge. “There’s a babysitter looking after a couple of kids and they keep getting calls from someone who says ‘go check the children.’ When the police trace it, it turns out the call’s being made from that address. So it spawned the phrase ‘the call’s coming from inside the house.’”
“Okay. But what’s that got to do with my room being bugged?”
“Jesus, Oliver. I thought you were smart.”
Ha, that’s actually a pleasing thing to learn. “I’m delighted I gave that first impression.”
She certainly made one on me. My mind flashes back to opening my front door, meeting her eyes, and that new sensation of being shot through with adrenaline.
Now those intense blue irises roll up to the gray sky. “Oh my God. It means an inside job. Like either the people sweeping for bugs are in on it, or else someone who knows when the sweep is plants it immediately afterward.”
“Inside job? Like my mum’s bugging me or something? Why would she do that?”
“Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe the staff.”
“The staff? Why would the staff want to do it?”
“Jesus.” Lexi stops and turns to face me. “Oliver, you are seriously being incredibly naive right now.” She reaches for my upper arms as if she wants to shake me but pulls her hands back before making contact. “Ever wondered how the press gets some of their info?”
“You mean you think the staff have been bugging me and then selling stories? For money?”
“There we go.” Now she reaches forward with one hand and pats me on the shoulder. “You got it.”
The entire contents of my brain feel like they’re gurglingdown a drain. “How can that be right? How could my own family spy on me? Or the staff spy on us? I don’t understand. There’s security to stop this sort of thing from happening.”
I shove my hands through my hair and press my fingers into my skull as if that will somehow help what’s inside it to function better. “Are you absolutely sure it was a bug?”
“I’m sorry.” And she looks like she really is.
Her expression is full of concerned compassion, like I’ve just woken from a long coma and she has to break the bad news that we now live in a post-apocalyptic zombie world.
