Chapter 9: Listening

I peeled the bug off the bed frame and held it up in the light.

It was the size of a shirt button.

"Don't crush it," Bram said from the doorway.

He had taken his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves.

He did not look surprised.

"You knew," I said.

"I suspected. Torben's man planted them the week before you moved in."

"And you kept sleeping in here?"

"I kept sleeping on my side of the bed."

"With a microphone under it."

"There are three."

I stared at him.

"Three?"

"One in the bedroom, one in the kitchen, one in the study."

"My security chief found them the day after you moved in and left them in."

"Why would you leave them?"

"Because it's easier to lie to a man who thinks he's listening."

I set the bug on the nightstand and looked at it.

Torben had heard everything in this room since the day I arrived.

He had heard the elevator, and the kitchen counter, and whatever I said in my sleep.

The idea made my skin crawl.

Then it made me smile.

"Does the study one work?" I asked.

"It does."

"Do they play it back in real time?"

"My chief says every night at eleven."

It was ten forty.

I put my hands on my hips and looked at Bram.

"Come here," I said.

"Why?"

"Because we're having a fight."

He frowned.

"What kind of fight?"

"The kind where I'm cold and ambitious, and you're a rich boy who can't stand it."

A slow grin spread across his face.

"Do I get lines?"

"You get to sulk."

"I'm very good at sulking."

I walked to the middle of the bedroom and raised my voice.

"I told you, Bram, I won't be managed by your family!"

His grin vanished, and he did a very good job of looking wounded.

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