I took a deep breath, my fingertip hovered over the screen, so tempted to accept the call. But I knew it was better to hold onto my resolve and keep him out of my life, knowing what a mess I still was about Adam. The emotional rollercoaster that I was on made it clear that I was not ready to be in another relationship. Christos was a beautiful man and I know I would probably regret ghosting him, but he didn’t deserve having a broken-ass girl dragging him down. I closed my eyes with regret as I let the call go unanswered.

Chapter 5 – Mason

Isatinmyapartment with the paperwork from the case spread around me. A pen hanging from my mouth, I surveyed all the information I had and frowned. There were so many things that I thought I knew about the case but had yet to corroborate with evidence. I hoped I would make inroads to finding that evidence on Wednesday when I went to the mixer Professor Owens had invited me to.

From what the professor had said, the mixer would be full of the wealthy elite of Stanford. Just the type of people I had spent my adult years steering clear of. They were supposedly cream of the crop, in the same social circle as my family, but I personally couldn’t stand the snobbishness and sheer ignorance that many of them displayed. That’s part of why I went into law enforcement. Mom and Dad had been heartbroken when I dropped out of Yale Law School and joined the FBI. But I loved my job. Not to brag, but I had a natural affinity for it, and I got along with most of my co-workers. Everyone knew I came from wealth, but the ribbing about it stopped a few months into the job, when I proved I wasn’t just one of those rich assholes hoping to get by on my daddy’s meal ticket.

I had proven myself quickly and earned a reputation for being excellent at my job. I kept my head down and didn’t rock any boats or act like I was better than anyone else. They partnered me with Andrew right away and we had gotten along so well that we had become best friends.

Looking through the paperwork, I picked up a sheet with a list of names and pictures of persons of interest in the case. They all had pretentious names and came from wealthy families. I was most interested in the people who were closest to the most recent suicide case: Adam Armstrong’s friends. We suspected that they knew more than they were letting on. Hopefully, they would be at the mixer. I was aware they were part of the same secret society as Adam. I thought it strange that Amber Valentine didn’t appear to be part of the society. Or rather, it was strange that Adam was dating someone who wasn’t in the society.

The thought of Amber brought back the memory of our sensual kiss. It had been so intense. I wanted to get to know her more. The thought of all the things I could be doing to her made my cock stir and I had to push her from my mind so that I could concentrate on my work again.

But my concentration was gone. I decided to call Amber and see what she was doing. Maybe she would want to meet tonight. It had been four days since we bumped into each other.

I picked up my phone and pressed her name in the contact list. Listening to her ringing phone, I waited for her to pick up. She didn’t. It just went to voicemail. I left a quick message hoping she would get it soon and call me back. Disappointed at not being able to speak to her, I threw my phone down on the desk and sat back down to work again.

There had to be a connection with the three friends closest to Adam. They were all undergrads in Classical Studies, which meant they also knew Professor Owens. That was a connection that my primary source had been keen to press upon me. I wondered how my source was holding up. I thought I should call him but knew it wouldn’t do much good until I had more information. I couldn’t change his predicament yet, but I hoped to be able to soon.

I decided to call my sister, Hermione. She was only 22 and in her first year studying law at Yale. She answered on the second ring.

“What’s up, Mase?”

“Hey, Minie. Can’t a brother call his sister to see how she is? How’s Yale treating you?”

“It’s awesome. Classes are hard, but it feels good to exercise my brain. You know what I mean?”

Hermione had always been the more academic of the two of us. She loved to study, and it came easy to her, whereas I had to work hard for good grades.

“Sure, I know what you mean. Any good-looking men on the horizon?”

She scoffed. “As if I would tell you that! Actually, no, there might be one, but we’ll see how it plays out. He’s always surrounded by cheerleader-type sorority nuts.”

“I thought you used to be a cheerleader?”

“Yeah, when I was fifteen. Not now.”

I chuckled at the way she dismissed the idea.

“What about you? How’s your job going?”

“It’s fine. I’m at Stanford at the moment. Enrolled in the Master’s Program in their Classics department. A rich, half-Greek grad student.”

She burst out laughing. “That’ll be hard for you to do.”

“Yeah. It’s very difficult,” I laughed. “How are mom and dad, by the way?”

“Don’t you call them?”

“You know we don’t get along like we used to since I dropped out of law school. I always seem to disappoint them when I call.”

“Huh. Well, they’re fine. Mom is going to Santorini to see Uncle Phil next week. Something about buying a vineyard on the island.”

“Another vineyard? How many does a billionaire’s wife need?”

“Oh you know. It’s an investment for the future…”

I chuckled at Hermione’s rendition of our mother’s voice.