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Me: That sucks. Have you heard anything about Will?
I wasn’t sure how to ask about Maddox’s love life—or if he had one. We’d been friends in the frat and had hung out occasionally since. He’d had a fling with the fraternity sweetheart, but as far as I knew, nothing had come of it. Maddox and I weren’t what you might call close.
Adrian and I were chums. Maddox and Duncan always had more in common with each other than I did, though that didn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy a round of beersnow and then.
I just didn’t see how I could say,Are you dating anyone?without it sounding like I had an ulterior motive. It felt too weird.
Maddox: Should I?
Me: You know how we got those cards at the wedding? The warnings?
Maddox: You worried about that? You dating someone?
How come he could ask it and have it be fine? Probably because I’d opened the conversation.
Whatever.
I’d take the opening.
Me: She’s hot, man. She’s amazing. I don’t want anything happening to her.
Maddox: I think Will’s still in jail. I doubt he’d try anything like that again.
The words were strangely comforting. What was I so worried about?
Ella had just mentioned her stepsister making some stupid threats. There was no real connection to the fraternity.
For all I knew, Pris was just trying to intimidate Ella and be a total witch.
Me: Yeah, you’d think he’d learn his lesson.
I slid the phone away from me and sank my head back, running my hands through my hair. I had nothing to worry about. I was overreacting.
A pencil sat beside my computer. I reached for it and rubbed the pad of my finger along the pink eraser, thinking.
Ella would be fine. I’d be seeing her in a few hours—and I couldn’t wait.
Ice skating was the perfect way to have forced interaction, especially if she or I were terrible at the actual skating part of things.
My excitement returned to the project I’d been brainstorming moments before: donating funds to Harmony Children’s.
I wanted to help those kids. Even if backing research foundations to help with curing the kids’ various ailments might be satisfying enough—I wanted to do something personal as well.
The intercom on my office phone droned, interrupting my musing.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Clary said.
Her wary tone struck me. I set the pencil back onto the desk.
She went on. “I just received a call from security, and they have something they think you should see.”
Concern drew my brows together. I pressed the button to respond. “Any idea what it is?”
“They said youshould come.”
Scenarios shuffled through my mind. What was it—the thefts? Or something worse?
