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It still didn't mean anything. Fast forwarding past the blackout, I scanned back toward the camera in the kitchen. Surely, Olive had just hung out in the cupboard to eat a snack and sober up. Any minute now, I would see her come back down the spiral staircase and out of the kitchen where I'd found her.
Except that's not what happened.
The power went out in the entire house. I remembered that. I'd been in the living room, wondering when Olive was coming back from the bathroom.
Squinting at the kitchen camera, I adjusted the brightness on my monitor and watched as the door behind the spiral staircase—the one that led outside—opened. A woman—Olive—walked in, barefoot. She paused to put on her heels, fixed her hair, and trotted back out into the living room.
My hands trembling, I leaned back in the chair, trying to process this. This couldn't be...no. There was no way Olive was a hacker. I'd have known that, wouldn't I?
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my lap, and I jumped, grabbing it. There was a text from the Private Investigator I'd hired.
"I found him. Quinn Zinger. Have him in my care. Figured I'd text you before Jessie. What do you want me to do?"
Quinn Zinger. The hacker who Helen had hired to blackmail them. And possibly the man who'd hired Olive?
If Olive was the hacker, then Quinn Zinger would know.
I texted back quickly.Do not contact anyone. What's your address?
He responded immediately, and my heart leapt. Was I really going to do this?
I'll be there in twenty.
17
OLIVE
The next morning, I woke with my arms stretched across Lucas's side of the bed. It was empty, the sheets cold. My eyes opened. Had he really worked all night? The hum of the shower made me sit up. Maybe I just hadn't heard him come in.
I was a fairly light sleeper, but then again, his mattress was softer than anything I'd ever slept on, and the sense of security and safety that had developed within me since arriving at the Penthouse had definitely led to better sleep.
The shower shut off, and the door opened in a burst of steam. Lucas stepped out, wrapped in a towel. When he spotted me, he shuffled to a stop.
"Oh, hey, I didn't know you were awake."
I chuckled and yawned, stretching my hands over my head. "I wasn't. I just woke up."
He smiled but there was some tension in his face, and his eyes averted my gaze. Rolling to the side of the bed, I reached over and grabbed his hands.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." He kissed my forehead, and then crossed to the master closet. "Work just kicked my ass last night. And we have a long day ahead. The press conference is at four, right after we pick up Claire from school."
Stifling my groan, I fell back onto the bed. "But we can lounge around until then right?"
"Oh, no," Lucas called. "You have your makeover today."
I bolted up from bed. "My what?"
Lucas peeked his head out of the closet, a playful smirk on his face. "Don't worry, you're going to love it."
"I hate it."
Behind me, Lucas chuckled. "You have to open your eyes first, Olive."
I clenched my eyes tighter, gripping the armrests of the salon chair. "I don't want to."
Hands gripped mine, spinning the chair around. "Olive, look at me."
