Page 30 of Mase
Again, he swallows harshly, and I calculate each and every move. “I don’t want to overstep”—he shifts from side to side—“but have you made your father’s associates aware of your relationship with your stepsister?”
I remain stunned. The old bastard doesn’t miss a damn trick, that’s for sure, and I don’t fucking like it.
“That’s nobody’s damn business but mine and Summer’s,” I grind out, holding his stare with an intensity that forces him to glance away.
“Very well, sir.” He gives a firm nod, then turns on his heel and opens the door.
“Actually, Hugh. Could you help me with something?”
He looks over his shoulder. “If I can,” he replies.
“Where does the footage from the cameras go?”
He blinks, then gawks back at me, and my eyes zero in on the bead of sweat gathering on his forehead. “I’m guessing to your father’s computer.” He glances at a spot on my father’s desk, an empty spot. “His laptop, I mean.”
I cross my arms over my thick chest and relax into the chair. “And where might I find the laptop?”
His jaw sharpens and his focus intensifies. That’s right, fucker, I know you know something. “I don’t know. I’m too old for anything like that. I know nothing about technology; I’m almost seventy, Mason.” He chuckles, but I just stare at him. Is he deliberately trying to piss me off by evading my questions?
“I didn’t ask if you knew about technology. I asked you if you knew where his laptop was.”
His face falls, and his eyes sharpen. “No. I don’t know where it is.” There’s a dark edge to his tone I don’t like, and I’m not even sure he knows he revealed it.
“That’ll be all.” I force a smile; one I drop as soon as the door closes behind him.
I’m going to discover your secrets, motherfucker. If Summer is in jeopardy in any way, I’ll happily take him to the Varros residence. I need to let off some steam, and Hugh is looking like the perfect candidate.
My phone buzzes, and I fumble with it as I accept the call. I’m expecting one from Owen with some answers, but it’s too soon for that.
“Hello?”
“Is this Mr. Campbell?”
“It is.”
“This is Preston Academy. I’m sorry to tell you, but we’ve had an incident with Summer Campbell”—my pulse rushes and my head feels light—“and you’re down as her next of kin. Is it possible for you to come into school to discuss the situation, please?”
“Y-yes, sure.” Holy fuck. What the hell happened? “Is she okay?”
“She’s perfectly fine, Mr. Campbell. We just need to discuss the situation with you.”
“Okay. I’ll be right over.”
I end the call, push back in the chair, and grab my truck keys, mentally preparing myself.
I’m about to go into a fucking school to collect the girl I want to fuck. Hell,havefucked already. How screwed up is that?
SIXTEEN
MASE
I throwopen the school door and march toward the reception, and my feet come to a halt when my eyes are drawn to Summer as if magnetized toward her. She’s sitting outside the school office in a row with three students, but the others don’t exist to me.
She appears wet, really fucking wet, and not in the good way.
Her blue eyes shimmer, on the verge of tears, and I want to wrap her in my embrace and protect her. She quickly averts her gaze while I remain rooted to the spot, heart hammering like a love-struck teenager, and time stands still.
Why the hell does my body crave hers like no other? Why do I feel so alive and finally like myself when I’m in her proximity?
