Page 33 of King

Except - the door bursts open - I step inside - and find the room completely empty.

“What in the world - “ I mutter to myself, the fight draining out of me.

There wasn’t enough time for someone to escape.

This doesn’t make any sense.

I walk towards the computers and brush my fingers over the keyboard. The screens flicker with live footage of each camera.

A separate screen appears to be running a stream of information.

I watch it for a while, trying to figure out what it is.

It looks like it might be the access log, or record log for the entire system. When a house keeper walks past the camera in the kitchen, I note it on the live video, but then it also makes a written log of it on this separate screen.

Movement. Kitchen. 15:32.

Movement. Hallway 7. 15:32.

Movement. Patio. 15:32.

Movement. Living room 1. 15:33.

Each movement is recorded and my eyes dart to the corresponding video to confirm as someone walks past the camera.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice makes me jump. I spin to face the security officer who has walked into the room, holding a cup of coffee.

“Were you in here before?” I ask.

“Before what? I went to get a coffee. I’ve only been gone about ten minutes.” He says defensively.

I nod. “Never mind. Um. Enjoy your coffee.”

With slow steps, lost in thought, I head back to my bedroom.

What does this mean? If it wasn’t someone in the security office - who else has access to the cameras. Maybe his sons have the security app installed on their phones? Giovanni surely wouldn’t be watching me from his phone? What good would it do for the sons to watch me though - it seems like a total waste of time for them?

“Zina.” His voice is commanding and deep and it sends a thrill racing through me.

“Giovanni, did you need something?” I ask, turning to face him.

“We need to talk, now.” He snarls, grabbing my arm he drags me from the passage into his office. He pushes me hard and I stumble, only just managing to catch myself from falling.

“What are you doing - “ I squeal in fright and anger. He slams the office door behind himself and glares at me.

“What are you really doing here?” he snarls.

“What - “ I stammer. “You know what I’m doing here. We spoke about just the other night - for our son, Gio.”

He shakes his head and steps closer to me, looking down at me with a dark scowl. I push him hard against his chest, refusing to let him intimidate me. But he doesn’t budge.

“Explain this.” He says coldly, shoving his phone into my hand.

For a moment I don’t move. I just blink at him in disbelief.

I’m confused in so many ways I can hardly think.

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