seventh: invite

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credits to @littlegardensfor the graphics!

And thank you limptesticles for the awesomely hot new cover! 


That evening, I was feeling quite accomplished by the time I returned home.

She was the one who had asked for my number and I felt like I was on the right track. I made a pit stop at the gym before going home. My heart stopped, however, when I noticed Grayson's familiar car in the street right outside my apartment. On moving closer, I saw that both Black and Grayson sat in the front seat, their gazes fixated on me.

I walked over to them and entered the car silently. Gray revved up the engine and we were off in silence. Both of them were in civilian clothes. Perhaps off duty or simply because they had come to my neighbourhood.

"How was it?" Gray asked, gazing at me from the mirror.

"The sex was great. Thanks for asking."

He sighed and Harold shook his head. He spoke again, "Did you manage to make any headway regarding the case?"

I scoffed, raking a hand through my hair. "It hasn't even been twenty four hours guys."

"We're not guys," Gray said, his voice stoic. I sighed, leaning against the seat. "You know we are time bound, don't you? What all did you learn? Anything at her place?" he continued.

"She's interested in numerology and likes French toast. Her favourite position is missionary." I completed, stifling a yawn. "Oh and I met Scarlett. I'm trying to earn her trust. I think she might have some useful information."

Harold nodded, approvingly. We turned around a bend and I wondered where we were headed.

"We called you here, because of this-" he lifted his hand and I saw a colourful sheet of paper. I took it from him and straightened it out. It was a pamphlet for what looked like a high end yacht party.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Harold?" I grinned. His cheeks turned pink and he cleared his throat. There were times when I felt bad for teasing him like that. But it was way too easy to get him flustered. I couldn't resist.

"Can you be serious for once?" Grayson snapped. His eyes flashed as he stopped the car and turned to glare at me. I was quiet, perusing the pamphlet. "It's a party thrown by Reznick. One of Atkinson's associates," he continued. "You have to get yourself an invite."

I gazed at him and shrugged. "Alright."

"I wish you would take this seriously," he said.

"I am taking this seriously," I answered, gritting my teeth. 

"You're not," he declared.

"Stop being a baby," I said, glaring back at him, unable to understand his sudden hostility. His eyes seemed to soften a little and he opened his mouth to say something before Harold interrupted. 

"Stop it you two," he said, sighing as he turned to look at me. "We need you to talk to Reznick. And another thing, we need you to spend more time with Rosalie. The entire day if possible. Stay the nights. Leave in the afternoons and return in the evenings. If possible, don't let her be alone at home."

"Talk to Reznick? Why? What does he have to do with anything?"

"That is exactly what we need to find out," Grayson said. "There have been no massive withdrawals from her account. Except for her usual investments which have been thoroughly tracked. However, she often has transactions upto billions with her associates. Of course, this doesn't raise an eyebrow because they are partners. Without hard evidence against the associates, we can only speculate that it is one of them who is withdrawing the money, transferring it to cash or another bank account that is not directly linked to Rosalie. We don't have enough evidence to convince the court to let us conduct an investigation into her company associates' accounts."

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